Chapter 3

Sienna POV

Two hours later, Rocco finally yanked the freezer door open.

He didn't look me in the eye.

"Boss says get dressed. We're going to the Gala."

My lips were cracked and blue.

My fingers were numb claws, so stiff I could barely button the designer dress Dante had laid out on the bed.

It was white.

Pure, innocent white.

It felt like a cruel joke.

The charity gala was held in a ballroom that reeked of old money and corruption-a spectacle that cost more than my father's entire lifetime of earnings.

Light refracted off massive crystal chandeliers, dancing over champagne towers.

Everywhere I looked, there were men who killed for a living wearing tuxedos that cost five grand.

Dante clamped his hand onto my waist as we entered.

His touch was warm, possessive.

"Smile," he whispered against my ear, his breath hot against my frozen skin. "You look pale."

I wanted to vomit.

Valeria was there, of course.

She was draped in blood-red silk.

She stood by her father, a Capo who controlled the Brooklyn docks, looking like royalty.

The auction began an hour later.

It was a "Charity Date Auction."

Rich men bidding on dances with the eligible women of the Family.

It was all for show. Money laundering with a smile.

When Valeria took the stage, the room went dead quiet.

She beamed, blowing a kiss to the crowd.

"Starting bid at five thousand," the auctioneer called out.

"Ten thousand," a voice yelled.

"Twenty," said another.

Dante stepped forward, detaching himself from my side.

He raised his hand.

"One million."

The room gasped.

Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Valeria's smile widened into a victorious smirk. She looked directly at me.

Dante didn't look at her. He looked at the crowd, challenging anyone to defy him.

He was marking his territory.

And I was just the furniture.

Suddenly, I felt a vibration in my clutch.

Then another.

Around the room, phones started lighting up like fireflies.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, growing louder like an approaching tide.

People were looking at their screens, then looking at me.

Some were laughing.

I saw a woman near me whisper to her husband, covering her mouth but not her eyes. Her eyes were mocking.

With trembling fingers, I pulled out my own phone.

I had a notification. A mass text sent to everyone on the guest list.

The Don's Catch of the Day.

I opened the attachment.

It was a photo of me from five years ago.

I was wearing rubber overalls, covered in fish guts, holding a scaling knife. My hair was matted with blood and slime. I looked feral. Poor. Dirty.

Beneath it was a caption: You can take the girl out of the gutter, but you can't take the smell out of the girl.

I dropped the phone.

The screen cracked on the marble floor.

I looked up.

Dante was walking Valeria off the stage.

He had his hand on the small of her back.

He hadn't seen the phones yet.

Or maybe he had.

And maybe he didn't care.

I stood there in my white dress, surrounded by diamonds and silk, and I had never felt filthier in my life.