The Girl Without a Name Was the Name They All Feared

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Right before I finished school, my man of four years, Lorenzo Bianchi, told me he wanted to end it.

He handed me the deed to a townhouse, the keys to a Bentley, and eighteen million in clean cash, and thanked me for the four years.

I just stood there, wanting to know why we were ending anything at all.

But he only said, cold as a blade laid flat on a table, "Adriana Valente, for a man from a bloodline like mine, love and marriage are two separate accounts. I'm going home for a blood-alliance union. Understand?"

...

My man was being promised to another woman at a sit-down, and the bride wasn't me.

By the time I reached the alliance sit-down, Lorenzo was already up on the raised floor of the ballroom, under the eyes of every made man in the room.

He wore a hand-cut suit and obsidian cufflinks, more beautiful than any man had a right to be.

And the woman standing across from him looked to be barely four foot six, and heavy, her face crawling with greasy, glistening pimples that looked ready to burst at any moment.

My man was going to bind his blood to a woman like that?

Thinking back to last night, it felt like another lifetime.

Yesterday I'd come back to the townhouse from my day among ordinary people, and Lorenzo had pinned me down on the bed.

He bent over me and kissed me, his voice rough as gravel as he said, "Baby, tonight, don't treat me like a person."

And then it was as though he devoured me whole.

But when I woke up, he was already gone, no trace of him left.

His number was dead. Every account he'd ever kept, wiped clean, the way a soldier scrubs a place he was never supposed to be.

He'd vanished from my world all at once, and I had no time to brace for it.

Then his lawyer showed up at my door.

The lawyer came at noon.

He said Lorenzo had given specific instructions to come only at noon, so he wouldn't disturb my rest.

Then he handed me a document.

I read it, and I didn't understand.

It was a deed of gift, stating that Lorenzo was voluntarily handing me the townhouse, the Bentley, and the eighteen million in clean cash as tribute for four years at his side.

So he'd cut me loose out of nowhere, and then treated me like some kept woman and thrown laundered money at my feet?

But I wasn't short on money at all.

When Lorenzo and I first came together, I'd told him as much.

But he'd said, with the easy certainty of a man who'd never once glimpsed the real table, "However much you've got, cara, you're not sitting on what I am."

I hadn't bothered to argue. What could I do, when I loved him.

But everything had been fine. So why cut it off?

Last night, that cold, aloof man of mine had been so eager, so fierce, saying he loved me almost the entire night.

How could that turn into this?

I made myself calm down, and then, through the Valente channels no one in that room could imagine I owned, I quickly found out the truth.

And so I came to the sit-down.

I could tell Lorenzo wasn't happy. Was he being forced into this alliance with this woman?

"Give her a kiss!"

Just then someone called it out from the crowd of guests, I couldn't tell who.

And then I watched the woman reach out to take Lorenzo's hand.

Lorenzo instinctively stepped back, dodging her.

The woman wasn't pleased. Her thick lips flapped, spitting as she said, "Forgotten what you promised me already, this fast?"

Lorenzo's face went white, but he pressed his thumb flat against his knuckles and stepped forward anyway.

He must have been threatened. Someone had a hook in him.

I pushed my way out of the crowd at once and called toward him, "Lorenzo, if something's wrong, tell me. Don't put yourself through this!"

Every gaze in the room fell on me. Conversations died mid-sentence, the way they do when the wrong person speaks out of turn.

When Lorenzo saw me, a flicker of joy crossed those cold eyes, then in an instant it froze over with ice.

"Who's this bitch?"

The woman glared at me, her jeweled fingers rising to brush the diamonds at her throat. "You call my fianc by name, awfully close, aren't you?"

I was about to say who I was, but Lorenzo cut me off.

His sharp brows drew together as he said, "She's just some pathetic hanger-on. Have someone throw her out, don't bother with her."

Hanger-on?

I could feel it, every gaze turned on me now full of contempt.

Right. Who ever respected a doormat trailing after someone?

But that wasn't me.

Lorenzo and I met at one of the Family's social clubs, the kind with a legitimate face and old blood in the back rooms.

I'd just come off a Muay Thai session, starving, so hollow my stomach was pressed against my spine, and I snuck a bite of my roommate's snacks.

She ribbed me for it, then told me to call her "Mommy" and let her hear it.

Just roommates messing around. I didn't mind, so I actually said it.

Lorenzo stepped in on my behalf right then. He said you couldn't bully someone just because they were poor, and then he told me I shouldn't steal other people's food either.

That was just him. The upstanding sort, always eager to set things right, honor stitched into him where other men our world raised carried only appetite.

After that I played poor, played pitiful, chased after him every single day, and before long we were together. Everyone knew Lorenzo was "keeping" me.

People kept saying he was keeping a gold-digger with cash and no bloodline. I was afraid it made him lose face, so I told him my Family was actually old blood. He didn't much care either way.

Four years together. No dramatic ups and downs, no sweeping love story, but the kind of love that was thick and sweet as honey.

We'd barely ever even fought.

So when he dumped me out of nowhere, I couldn't accept it. I just wanted to know why.

I looked at Lorenzo up on the dais where the alliance sit-down was set, and walked toward him, step by step. The men in dark suits along the walls tracked me, hands drifting near their jackets, but none of them moved.

But before I could get a word out, that woman was suddenly in front of me.

She was so short she had to tip her head back to look at me, and I had to look down to see her.

"The hell, you actually came up here?"

She sprang up and swung to slap me.

I stepped back out of reach, frowning, and looked at Lorenzo. "You broke it off with me to marry a thing like this?"

"What garbage are you spouting?"

Lorenzo strode forward and slapped me across the face. A glass was set down somewhere behind us, too deliberate in the sudden quiet.

When the woman hit me, I dodged.

But when Lorenzo hit me, I didn't move.

He'd been ill lately, and I was afraid he might lose his footing and fall.

He was about to marry someone else, and I was still worrying about him. How pathetic could I get?

I touched my struck cheek, grief already welling in my eyes.

"So you're Lorenzo's woman from before?"

The woman came over, gave a scornful little laugh, her rings catching the light as she flashed them at me. "A gold-digging bitch, and you've got the nerve to put on airs in front of me? Do you know who I am? I'm Bianca Ferraro. The Ferraros are the richest crew in Boston!"

I didn't look at Bianca. I kept talking to Lorenzo. "Walking away without a word. That isn't fair to me."

"Fair?"

"The estate, the car, the cash. I gave you all of it. What else do you want?"

"Stop this, Adriana. We're over."

Lorenzo said it with his brow knotted, his thumb pressing flat against his knuckles. "You know how it is. In a bloodline like mine, love and marriage stay separate. Thank you for the four years, but my wife can only be Bianca Ferraro. Understand?"

"I'm only asking you one thing. Do you love me?"

I looked at him and said it.

As for blood-alliance unions between old Families, I understood those. I'd been raised inside that silence, that code where a bride's feelings meant nothing at the table.

My own parents were an arranged match. They were just luckier. Childhood sweethearts who grew up together and fell in love as a matter of course.

As for me.

I was meant to marry for alliance too, though I didn't have to. The Valente seat on the Commission no longer needed a union to shore it up.

"Love?"

"Stop this, Adriana. From the time I was very small, I knew I'd have to marry for alliance one day. So I never believed in love at all."

"Being with you was simply because I thought you were pretty, and poor enough to be easy to control."

Lorenzo gave a mocking laugh. "That's enough. Now you have the answer you wanted, so go."

So the love thick and sweet as honey I thought we had was only ever what I thought.

But in Lorenzo's eyes I was only a canary. Presentable, and obedient?

How ridiculous.

I nodded. If that was how it was, then fine.

It hurt, deep down. But I was someone who could pick things up and set them down again.

I had come here to hold on to him.

And if I couldn't, then I would let go.

I looked at Lorenzo, gave a bitter little smile, and said, "All right, then. I wish you every happiness."

With that, I turned to step down from the dais.

Lorenzo's hand clenched around the stem of his glass, hard enough to whiten his knuckles. He looked away, refusing to meet my eyes.

But Bianca planted herself in front of me, laughing that mocking laugh. "You came all this way, so you'll stay and watch the union. Otherwise you're snubbing me, Bianca Ferraro. You're snubbing the Ferraro name. You're snubbing all of Boston!"

"That grand, are we?"

I laughed.

I'd heard lines like that before.

New York is a wide territory, after all, and not every crew knows whose ring they should be kissing. There are always people who try to throw their weight around, and sooner or later some of it lands on me.

But after I dealt with a few who couldn't see straight, no one in the city dared talk to me that way again.

Bianca didn't catch the contempt in my voice. She just clapped her hands, the diamonds on her fingers catching the light.

And then a crowd of men in black closed in around the dais, jackets cut loose over what they carried beneath.

"Bitch, if I'm not happy today, you don't leave this room."

That was Bianca.

Lorenzo crossed to me quickly, glaring. "Get out. Now. I don't want to see your face again."

"Did I say you could speak?"

Bianca's face went cold. She touched the stones at her throat as if they might answer for her. "You think I'm stupid? You think I can't see you're shielding this little bitch?"

Shielding me?

I looked at Lorenzo, a long look, and saw his eyes were full of worry.

Maybe everything he'd said before had been a lie.

Lorenzo shook his head. He pressed his thumb flat against his knuckles, holding some line I couldn't see. "I just don't want any more ties to people from my past. And this is our alliance. What business does my ex have at a sit-down like this? How does it look for you when word gets around the table?"

His tone softened a great deal. "Bianca. I'm thinking of you."

That eased her expression a little, but she still said, "I'm not afraid of looking bad. In this little patch of Boston, I am the sky."

She pointed at me. "Go down and watch the union."

I nodded, gave Lorenzo a look somewhere between a smile and none at all, and stepped down.

But the moment my feet left the dais, four of the men in black closed in around me.

Then they steered me to a chair in the corner and sat me down.

Terrified I might run, apparently.

From up on the dais, Bianca called out, "Bitch, you sit there and enjoy the union. I say you don't leave, so you don't leave."

"You won't let me leave now. But when you want me gone, I won't be going anywhere."

I smiled faintly.

"Shut your mouth!"

Lorenzo barked it.

I smiled and said nothing. They were the ones who wanted to keep this game going, so they couldn't blame me for what came after.

Bianca went on, "I hear you're from New York. How nice. Some important people from the city are coming a little later. Young gentlemen with real weight on the Commission. I'll introduce you. Consider it a lesson in how the real world works."

"Well, thank you in advance."

I couldn't help smiling again.

Just then a group of people came over.

Young, all of them, and every one of them wearing that swaggering arrogance that comes with borrowed money and no bloodline behind it.

Bianca's little pack of hangers-on, no doubt.

"Little bitch, wouldn't life be easier if you'd just stayed away?"

"You actually thought Lorenzo could protect you?"

"Let me be honest with you. Even if you hadn't shown up today, Bianca wasn't going to let you off. How could she stand to let the woman who had her fianc for four years keep breathing?"

"I've got my phone right here. Want me to make a call for you? Have someone come take out the trash?"

The whole crowd laughed at me without a shred of restraint.

I kept my head down, turning my grandmother's signet ring once around my finger with my thumb, not bothering to trade words with people like this.

But there was one thing I was sure of now.

Lorenzo really was protecting me.

The alliance sit-down ended soon after.

Next came the part where the guests ate, drank, and worked the room, the way every made table in this city did once the ceremony was sealed.

Bianca led Lorenzo from table to table, raising a glass to each one, and every single person fawned over her.

I'd just used the moment to look into the Ferraro clan of Boston. Richest crew in the city, sure enough, but no real bloodline behind it. Upstarts with cash and nothing else, basically.

The Ferraros had risen because they had connections to the New York Families, then muscled into a string of profitable rackets in Boston and shot straight to the top of the city's earners.

Even so, the Ferraros had never managed to buy their way onto the Commission or into Boston's old-blood circle.

Which meant everyone here today was either a hanger-on of the Ferraros or a guest of Lorenzo's side.

As for Lorenzo's people, the Bianchis counted as one of Boston's old bloodlines, but a fading one, its respect thinner every year.

The Bianchi-Ferraro union was a matter of each side taking what it needed.

What the Ferraros wanted was a seat among the old bloodlines. Marry into an old-blood Family, and the seat was yours.

What the Bianchis wanted was laundered cash, nothing more, a chance to rebuild the Family on it.

I'd seen unions like this my whole life, so it didn't surprise me in the least.

Look back through the Families, generation after generation, and you'll find the same thing happening over and over.

A blood-alliance union was always its own kind of arithmetic.

Just then, a girl who looked no older than sixteen or seventeen sat down beside me.

She was sweet and pretty, still carrying a little baby fat, genuinely adorable.

And around the eyes and brows, she looked a great deal like Lorenzo.

"I'm Gia Bianchi. Your ex-man's little sister."

"Don't say a word from now on. Come with me."

She looked adorable, but her voice was ice cold.

Even as she spoke, she'd already taken my hand.

I didn't move. Instead I asked, "Your brother told you to help me?"

"What do you think?"

Gia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes flicking toward the side door. "Just come with me, quick, or you won't get out at all!"

By then a few men in black suits had already closed in around us, enforcers reading the room, hands loose at their sides.

Gia let out a sigh, dropped my hand, and settled back into her seat, no longer meaning to leave, because she knew there was no getting out now either.

"You shouldn't have come."

She sighed again. "If it weren't for you, my brother wouldn't have to marry Bianca the Sow at all!"

For me?

I was startled, but before I could ask, a stir went through the banquet hall.

Bianca and Lorenzo were moving toward the entrance too, motioning for everyone to stand.

Then I saw them: seven or eight people walking into the hall.

Men and women, all young, all carrying themselves with a settled, unhurried poise, the kind that came from real weight behind the name.

The one at their head especially, barely past twenty, and yet there was real force about him. Conversations near the door died as he passed.

"Salvatore, you finally made it. Without you my sit-down was almost missing something."

Bianca rushed forward at once, hand out to shake his, her rings catching the light.

Salvatore didn't take her hand. He didn't so much as glance at her. He studied Lorenzo carefully, then finally spoke. "Your name's Lorenzo?"

Lorenzo blinked, then nodded.

Salvatore's manner eased a little, a trace of a smile on his lips. "She's hidden herself too well. Otherwise we'd have met long ago."

Bianca assumed the "she" meant her, and was still trying to work out when exactly she'd hidden anything.

She didn't dwell on it, though. She turned to the others, touching the diamonds at her throat. "Everyone, this is Salvatore Romano of the Romano Family of New York, the genuine heir apparent. And the Romanos are the greatest protection our Ferraro clan of Boston has!"

The others burst into applause on cue, oozing every kind of flattery, excitement written all over them.

But Bianca caught sight of me still sitting on the couch. She glared. "You little bitch, who gave you the nerve to stay sitting?"

Lorenzo spoke up at once too, his thumb pressing flat against his knuckles. "Adriana, get up. Now!"