I was sold to the Don of the Italian mafia when I was twelve years old. Now, at twenty, I've been summoned to Nicolas Capasso's home, a man I've never even met, for my wedding day. No wiser of what it means to be a wife to a man like him. Let alone what goes on between a husband and wife in the dark. Nonetheless, I was assured it was all part of the plan. Step one, marry the Don. Got it. Step two, provide him with as many children as he requires. Gross. Step three, live silently and dutifully as the wife to the most powerful man in history. Oh, come on. The only thing standing in the way of completing such a simple plan, you ask. The blessing ceremony on the eve of my wedding. The most outdated form of torture imaginable on a pure bride like me, and something my family had been doing for centuries. Yet, when I found myself dressed in white, laid atop a ceremonial bedspread, and offered up to the deviant priest as a sacrifice, the man who walked into the room wasn't at all what I expected. Don't even get me started on what he did to my body during the ceremony, or what carnal things he made me feel while he did it. My future marriage was supposed to be blessed by the ceremony, paving the way to a peaceful union between our families. But if that was the case, why was it the man from the night before that consumed my every thought as I walked down the aisle the next day?