Page 1 of Wedlocked

Chapter One

Sabrina

The euphoria slipping over me like a second skin was nothing short of liberating as I sashayed my way through throngs of glittering guests, surreptitiously eavesdropping on their conversations while I sipped on overpriced bubbles.

I was born for this subterfuge…for the thrill of the hunt. Except, I was no hunter, I wasn’t even a spy. Hell, I wasn’t even meant to be here tonight.

I was Sabrina Costa, the one and only daughter of the Costa mafia family. Not only was I invaluable, a pawn to my family, I’d become somewhat invisible, too. I could put up with being a pawn—weren’t we all?—but it grated my gears that I’d never been allowed to bask in the power and prestige given freely to my brother, Salvatore.

I was determined that would change tonight and I’d be the one who’d uncover what was really going down with our rival mobster family, the Agostinos.

A shiver of unease threatened to take away my swagger. If my father or my brother caught me here at our rival’s house, I’d never be without a guard again. Hell, there was a chance I mightn’t even make it out of this party alive, if my own family didn’t kill me first.

The knowledge sent my pulse racing, my breath catching in the throat. A smile curled my lips. Damn, it was good to finally feel alive! Being groomed to be the next bride to some Frankenstein mobster wasn’t my one and only objective in life. That was pretty much last on my bucket list.

I was determined to prove one way or another that I wasn’t just a pretty face. I had power too, along with connections, they were just more…subtle. I touched my plump, lower lip. One didn’t need to fire a semi-automatic when poisoned lipstick could do the job with so much more…finesse.

Not that I was planning on killing anyone tonight. Information was all I desired. After all, information was power and I craved that rush like nothing else, craved to experience what my brother did on a daily basis.

Being a woman hadn’t curbed my killer instincts, if anything it’d honed them sharper. I wasn’t a behind-the-scenes type of woman, I never had been. I might have been homeschooled and kept socially inept, but it hadn’t dulled my brain. My teachers had quickly learned I was bright. Too bright at times for the social role I’d one day soon be forced to play—an arranged marriage to propel my mafia family’s standing to the top of the heap once and for all.

I had a fair idea now which man out of the three other mobster families my father planned to assign me to, and it most certainly wouldn’t be one of the Agostino brothers. My dad was already leaning toward the Accardi family underboss, anything to push back the powerful Agostino uprising.

I’d be fed to the wolves, quite literally, my virtue of no importance once my father agreed upon my worth. That I was a beauty along with being an innocent would no doubt increase my potential groom-to-be’s desire to have me…to own me. And probably hurt me. It would be considered a small price to pay so that my family could wrestle back mobster dominance.

Little wonder I’d been guarded so stringently. My role as daughter had been just as important, possibly more so, than the role of my brother. It meant I’d had few friends or social interactions growing up and I’d had to strive to be adept in a crowd, playing it cool when inwardly my ego and passionate nature battled with my fragile insecurities and inexperience with social engagements.

The one benefit from my upbringing was that no one recognized me now. I was a stranger here, slipping through the party like a wraith in my wraparound, red sheaf dress and silver heels. I’d ensured my striking platinum blonde hair, a trait I shared with Salvatore, was pulled off my face in a braided topknot. I hadn’t had time to do much of anything else. Even my lipstick had been applied hastily in the back of the cab I’d ordered to pick me up a block away from my family home.

The Agostinos lived an hour west of New York City, their house overlooking the same Promenade River that my family’s house did. Except us Costas lived an hour east of New York. It didn’t stop the turf rivalry between us. It was legendary and spanned generations thanks to our forebears who’d moved from Sicily with nothing but a gun, and whole lot of grit and determination.

“I hear Ethan won’t be joining us for at least another hour.”

My ears pricked at the name of the Agostino underboss, and I tuned into the gossip ensuing between the three young, designer clad women dripping with jewels and barely withheld envy.

“He’s celebrating privately first, if you get my drift,” said a brunette, her sparkly diamond clips holding back the sides of her dead-straight hair.

Celebrating what, exactly? A pity I couldn’t approach and straight out ask them. Not without drawing attention to myself.

“Surely there are enough girls willing to do him for free?” a dark-haired women asked, her hands fluttering as she fanned her flushed face. “Lord knows I’d do him in a heartbeat.”

“Who says he wants them willing?” the brunette asked with a husky, evocative laugh. “Besides, you’d do anyone for free,” she added with a malicious sniff.

I didn’t hang around to hear the rest of their mean dialogue, instead I found myself drifting around the huge marble staircase while my thoughts also drifted. I only hoped my platinum wig, which I’d left lying on top of my pillow on my bed back home, would trick anyone who might look in on me until I returned home.

It’d be unlikely anyone would bother. It wasn’t like I had a mother anymore to care about me and my father most certainly didn’t. As for my brother, our bond was seriously close but even he was too busy lately in his role as our father’s underboss to focus on me.

No one would miss me until morning.

In the meantime I had to be careful not to engage in conversation with anyone while being mindful my distinctive hair stayed pulled back so that I didn’t stand out. Another frisson of excitement sparked through me as I edged through the crowd. I was just another beautiful face amongst these wealthy and overdressed guests.

The fact I might be one of the few women here without a clutch purse or cellphone was probably more noticeable than my hair. It’d been worth it though just so that I had no identification on me, no proof to get me caught out.

This is stupid! Reckless. Dangerous.

“And I wouldn’t change a thing,” I murmured to myself as I rounded the grand staircase with its glittering chandelier hanging high above.

I stopped as I inadvertently stumbled upon a discreet service entry elevator, where a harried young waiter pushed a cart of liquor and other supplies inside, the doors then sliding shut behind him.

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