Page 1 of Call You Mine

Prologue

WYNTER

New York City

This can’t be happening to me.

Like an inescapable nightmare come to life, a gruesome scene too painful to look at directly, or a horror movie that becomes more terrifying with each passing second—that’s what my life has become.

Standing on the rooftop of the Emporio Hotel, staring down at the bustling streets of Manhattan, I’m determined to jump. Down fifty stories, while gazing up at the cloudless night sky alight with thousands of flickering lights in the distance. From daunting city skyscrapers to blinding street lights and traffic signals, the city that never sleeps is calling to me.

A haunting whisper urging me to my demise.Do it Wynter.This is your only option, the only way you can truly escape him. The only way you’ll ever know what true freedom tastes like.

Death is my one-way ticket to freedom. However, it’s a sweeter end than what’s in store for me if I remain any longer by his side.

Well, by his rotting corpse.

For three tedious years, I’ve hidden behind the wrought-iron gates of his bloody palace, like a damsel locked in his tower, helpless, barely surviving in this ruthless kingdom. No one is coming to save me. No one even knows I’m in danger.

It’s no one’s fault but my own, but it’s the way it had to be.

Alone. Forgotten. Broken beyond repair.

I disappeared without warning, leaving no trace behind, forced by his heavy hand. Of course, it wasn’t a shock to anyone. I always acted on impulse, and leaving behind the scandalous, ill-famed life I had adopted in Hillcrest Hills was exactly what everyone expected of me. I left my home and never looked back. Now there’s nowhere I'd rather be.

There’s no place like home.

My mind’s making a mockery of me, reminding me the glamorous life I once held to the highest regard, yet had taken for granted, was ripped away from me in the blink of an eye, and was now the only thing I wish I had left.

There’s no place like home.

If only I could click my five-inch, red-bottom heels four times and repeat this mantra, teleporting myself back to my family’s mansion. At least that was a prison I’d grown to tolerate. A purgatory in which I knew exactly what to expect. A comfortable hell.

No surprises, no hidden agendas. Not like this impressive penthouse on the top floor of his hotel.

C'est l'enfer pour moi. This was my hell on earth.

It’s funny how even in death, my biological father's ghost continues to haunt me. After all, I’m here because of him and his betrayal of the most dangerous family in all of New York.

Given Wesley Servite’s transgressions, I became nothing more than a prize to be won by his enemies. After they discovered his betrayal, the worst of them came to collect. Wesley was a monster—a crooked thief, a vile fiend who rana plethora of illicit businesses and illegal affairs. He bathed in corruption and thrived off the blood of those less fortunate he used to do his dirty bidding.

That was my true legacy. An inescapable burden my dear father left me with.

Lucky for him, he’d gone and gotten himself blown up before he had to pay for his crimes. Unluckily for me, I was left to pay for my father’s sins—a father I never had.

Yet the list was a long one, and they just kept on coming.

The brisk air around me sings a solemn song, one I’ve heard too many times before. Ghostly whispers kiss my neck like the most sensual lips, taunting me with the pleasure of a prodigal ending. How easy it could be to just forget everything and disappear. The idea is so tempting however, I've never been one for bravery.

A coward to the core, that is what I was. The worst of my kind. But again, it was the way of the people who raised me. It was my legacy. All the men in my life, cowards who claimed their entire lives to be fearsome lions, refused to face their fears and accept their flaws. They were anything but valiant.

“Mrs. Marchesi,” a voice I can hardly hear behind the sirens blaring in the distance calls out to me, forcing me to go stiff, my right foot teetering on the edge of the rooftop. Closing my eyes and silently praying whoever he is will disappear and leave me be, I bring my left foot up to meet my right, precariously balancing along the ledge of the rooftop.

I can hear Enzo’s whispers in my ear, a haunting melody I will live with for the rest of my life. Even in death, he’ll be a monster who’ll haunt me for all eternity.

The frosty New York breeze blows right through me, pricking my skin with goosebumps and shivers creeping up my spine. Just one small flick of air and it’s sayonara Wynter. Turns out wewere all only born to do one thing—to die, and I might have just found my one true calling.

C’est la vie.

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