Heartless Prince by Brook Wilder
Chapter 1
Leda
The van bumped along the road, and I crashed against the metal wall, still not completely sure how everything had led up to this exact moment.
Less than an hour ago, I was summoned by my father, Carmine D’Agostino, to visit him in prison. And now, I was stuck in the back of a windowless van whose interior door handles were removed, going God knows where.
A particularly hard turn threw me against the wall of the van and a wave of nausea crept up in my gut. Jesus, where did this guy learn to drive?
I steadied myself against the jostle and tried kicking the door open again. Being a Mafia Don’s daughter had some perks. One of which was the cheery knowledge that if they took you to a second spot, your odds of survival basically dropped down to zero.
Which meant that if I didn’t get out of this van ASAP, my life was over.
Well, my life was probably already over, in all honesty. I thought the fact that my brother Nico had put our father in prison meant that we’d be free of his shitty influence.
But somehow, the man still found a way to keep us on his leash. That fucking bastard. Being locked up in prison for murdering a whole fucking family should mean you can’t make demands anymore, least of all demand that your only daughter show up for a mandatory family visit.
Especially if the only thing you intended to do with the visit was to tell her that you’ve sold her to another Don for a favorable deal.
Why couldn’t you have just died when you had that stroke?!
My mind whirled with the possibilities of the Don he would marry me off to. I’d met enough of them in my twenty-four years, and each one worse than the last. Most were old, fat, both, and almost every single one of them had already buried one wife already.
All of them wanted a wife who did what countless other women have already done: spread their legs for a man who disgusted them in every way, shape, and form. There would be no love, no devotion, and no hope in the future my father had chosen for me.
The van lurched to a stop.
I put my hands out to keep from being slammed against the doors.
I arrived.
I didn’t know exactly where I arrived to, and something deep in my gut told me that I didn’t want to be here. But after that nauseating ride, I welcomed the brief respite.
The doors opened suddenly, and I took two steps back as the cool night air filled the stifling vehicle. In an instant, I was rushing toward the man at the level of the van, nearly knocking him over in my attempt to escape.
I didn’t get far before he grabbed my arm and hauled me against the cold steel door, the metal biting into my flimsy dress. “Nice try, bitch.”
I stared at him defiantly, my eyes glittering with anger, not tears.
Never tears. Tears were a sign of weakness. I was a D’Agostino, and we didn’t cry.
“Whatever my father has paid you,” I said, lifting my lips into a cruel smile that my father would have been proud of. “I will double it if you let me go right now.”
To my surprise, he laughed and shook his head. “Your father? You think Carmine is behind this?” He gave me a shove. “Get moving.”
He acted like my father wasn’t part of this at all, but I had heard his parting words in the prison before I was carted away. Take her to her new husband. I knew what was in store for me.
My sandals didn’t provide any support for my feet as I was forced to walk over gravel, attempting to peer into the darkness to get some sense of where I was being taken. The air was crisp and cool, gently blowing at the sundress I had put on to visit my father earlier. Summer was coming to an end, and since it was my favorite time of year, I had way more of a summer wardrobe than I did for cold, harsh winter.
Right now, though, I would have killed for a light jacket.
Well, that, and a gun so I could shoot the asshole behind me.
We came to a door and my kidnapper twisted the handle, opening it up. “Down you go,” he said, giving me a little push.
A set of stairs greeted me, and I swallowed as I descended, nothing but dim lighting ensuring I didn’t fall down them. I hated the dark, the feeling of claustrophobia.
Nico used to tease me about my nightlights when we were children: the brighter the better. Even with the small lights around me, I felt the rise of panic in my throat. It was clear that we were moving underground.
But to where?
The anticipation of something—anything—was killing me.
The man urging me forward breathed down my neck as it were, but if I tried to hurry down the steep stairs, I could easily slip and fall.
Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go…
My lips pursed. Well, it wasn’t like my father would mourn my death. Nico and Rory would, but there was no one else.
No one who’d give a shit about me. I had a gaggle of friends, but all surface level. None of them was close to me like my brother and his little family. The people that I knew were haughty and rich. They snubbed their noses at anything that didn’t fit in their little vapid world.
And unfortunately, I also knew for a fact they wouldn’t give two shits about my death. Maybe there’d be a day of mourning. And that’d be it. Leda D’Agostino used to exist in their world. But no longer.
Steeling myself against the flare of hurt in my chest, I was relieved when the stairs ended, and we found ourselves at another door. The man gave three raps on the steel frame, the door opened immediately, and he shoved me through.
