The Bastard Bride of Saint Giovanni

Every Christmas Eve in Port Saint Giovanni, the Camerlano family hosts the Claiming Rite at Saint Giovanni Manor.

Twelve girls stand in a line. Whoever receives the white-gold signet pin becomes the heir’s publicly acknowledged bride candidate.

I am Grace Sorrento, the bastard daughter of the Sorrento family. If I do not receive that signet tonight, by sunrise I will be put on a plane to Chicago and married off to a Rizzo, a man rumored to have killed two former fiancées.

Adrian Camerlano, the boy I grew up with, swore to me in blood three days ago that the signet would be mine.

But when the moment came, his hand turned.

With a smile, he pinned it on Lucia, the orphan his family had sponsored.

Then he leaned close to my ear.

"Let Lucia have her moment. No one has ever really looked at her before. Don’t worry. This is my estate. No one will dare arrange your marriage without my say."

I grabbed his sleeve, but he removed my fingers one by one.

"Lucia has no roots and no last name. Tonight is all she has. But you are a Sorrento. Even without the signet, no one will touch you."

That phrase, no last name, drew every gaze in the ballroom toward me, full of pity and quiet mockery.

The next morning, I boarded a flight to Chicago.

When Adrian heard, he made one call to Port Saint Giovanni Air Control.

"Ground every plane. Nothing leaves today!"

Lucia’s hand rested on Adrian’s arm, pale from how tightly she held on. Beneath the chandeliers, they looked like a couple on the verge of an engagement.

I stayed where he had left me, empty-handed.

The Claiming Rite ended in music and applause, the elders’ approval sealing what everyone had already seen. Adrian never looked at me.

When the guests began to disperse, I was still there, as if I had simply been overlooked.

The butler stepped closer, his gaze measured.

"Miss Grace, Mr. Sorrento would like to see you in his study tomorrow morning."

Mr. Sorrento. My father.

Not being removed on the spot was already the last dignity he would grant his bastard daughter.

Adrian approached with a glass of whiskey, his expression easy.

"Why are you standing here alone?"

I met his eyes. "What do you think?"

He laughed lightly, as if brushing off a child’s temper.

"Don’t be like this. Tonight is important. I can’t make it too obvious that I favor you. The Godfather was watching."

"Was he watching when you cut your palm open and swore to me three days ago?"

His smile stiffened.

"Grace."

"You promised me that signet."

Adrian stepped closer and lowered his voice.

"Lucia is different. She doesn’t even have a last name. With that pin, she finally has a place here. But you are a Sorrento. No one in this family would truly dare touch you."

"A Sorrento?" I laughed quietly. "I don’t even have a room with a lock