Chapter 1 The Ghost King's Daughter

Alessia Ricci applied her lipstick with the steady precision of someone who had learned early that beauty was just another weapon. She chose blood red, the shade of vengeance. The same color her father had splashed across his custom suit the night the Castello family had destroyed everything.

She capped the tube and studied her reflection. At twenty-three, she looked nothing like the terrified sixteen-year-old who had escaped the massacre with nothing but the clothes on her back and her father's silver pocket watch. Seven years of hiding, planning, and reinventing herself had transformed her into someone unrecognizable even to herself sometimes.

Tonight, she would become someone new again: Sofia Bianchi, an ambitious event planner with impeccable credentials-all fabricated, of course, to organize the Castello family's annual charity gala, which provided her with the perfect cover to infiltrate the inner circle of the man who had ordered her father's execution.

"You're clear on the plan?" Marco's voice came from the doorway of her modest apartment. Her father's former consigliere was the only person from her old life who had survived. He'd raised her in the shadows, teaching her everything she needed to know to one day reclaim what was stolen.

"I've been clear on the plan for seven years," Alessia replied, not turning around. "Get close to Dante Castello. Find proof of his illegal operations. Destroy his empire from within. Make him suffer before he dies."

Marco stepped into the room, his weathered face reflected beside hers in the mirror. "This isn't just about revenge, Alessia. It's about restoration. Your father-"

"Is dead." She cut him off sharply, the familiar pain slicing through her chest. "And I'm going to make sure Dante Castello pays for every drop of Ricci blood spilled that night."

Marco's eyes darkened. "Just remember your training. Castello is dangerous, more so than his father was. He's expanded their territory into five states since taking over three years ago. The FBI has nothing on him because anyone who gets close enough to gather evidence doesn't live to testify."

Alessia slipped on her simple gold earrings-the only jewelry she allowed herself. Anything more might trigger a memory in someone who had known the Riccis before their fall. "That's because they weren't me."

"And what makes you different?" Marco challenged.

She finally turned to face him, her expression cold. "Because, unlike the feds, I'm willing to do whatever it takes. And unlike his other enemies, he'll never see me coming."

Marco nodded a flicker of pride in his eyes. "The car will be waiting at seven to take you to the Castello mansion. Remember, you're Sofia Bianchi now. She has no connection to the Riccis."

"I know who I am," Alessia said, picking up her clutch purse, which contained lipstick, a phone with an untraceable number, and a small knife disguised as a compact mirror. "And more importantly, I know who I'm not anymore."

As Marco left, Alessia's phone buzzed with a message. The car service was five minutes away. Perfect timing. She took one final look at her reflection. The elegant black dress hugged her curves while remaining professional. Her dark hair was swept into a sleek updo, and her makeup was flawless but understated.

Sofia Bianchi would be everything the Castello family looked for in an employee: competent, discreet, and eager to please the city's most powerful family.

The drive to the Castello mansion on the outskirts of the city took forty minutes. Alessia used the time to review the dossier on Dante Castello one more time, though she'd memorized every detail years ago.

Thirty-two years old. Harvard Business School. He took over the family business three years ago when his father stepped down due to "health reasons" which, according to Marco's sources, was a strategic move to put the more ruthless son in charge as they expanded operations. Single, but with a reputation for short, intense relationships with beautiful women. No known weaknesses.

Except, perhaps, his pride.

The Castello mansion came into view, a sprawling estate protected by a wrought iron gate and a state-of-the-art security system. Alessia's hands clenched involuntarily in her lap as the car approached. Seven years ago, her family had lived in a home just as grand, just as secure. It hadn't saved them.

The car stopped at the gate, and a guard approached. "Name and purpose?"

"Sofia Bianchi," she replied smoothly. "I have an appointment with Mr. Castello regarding the charity gala."

The guard checked his tablet, then nodded. The gates swung open silently, and the car continued up the long, winding driveway. Alessia forced herself to breathe normally as they passed manicured gardens and ornate fountains. This wasn't the time for emotions.

The car stopped at the front entrance, where another security guard opened her door. Alessia stepped out, nodding her thanks, and approached the massive double doors.

Before she could knock, they swung open, revealing a tall, stern-looking woman in her fifties.

"Ms. Bianchi," the woman said, her tone clipped. "I'm Mrs. Vega, the household manager. Mr. Castello is running late from a previous engagement. You'll wait in his study."

Without waiting for a response, Mrs. Vega turned and led Alessia through the mansion's grand foyer. The interior was exactly what Alessia had expected, opulent but tasteful, displaying the Castello family's wealth without being gauche. Old money aesthetics for a family that had stolen their fortune through blood and betrayal.

They passed several security guards positioned throughout the house, all wearing earpieces and subtle bulges under their jackets where their weapons were holstered. Alessia cataloged each one, noting their positions and the security cameras mounted discreetly in the corners.

Mrs. Vega stopped before a heavy wooden door and knocked once before opening it. "Please wait here. Mr. Castello shouldn't be long."

Alessia stepped into the study and heard the door close behind her. She took a moment to absorb her surroundings. The room was dominated by a large mahogany desk facing floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the estate's grounds. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes that looked well-read rather than decorative.

She moved to the desk, fighting the urge to start searching through the drawers. Not yet. That would come later after she'd established herself as trustworthy.

Instead, she wandered to the bookshelves, noting the titles. Military history. Philosophy. Business strategy. And-she almost smiled-a section on chess. The strategic game had been her father's favorite. He'd taught her to play when she was just five years old.

"In chess, as in life, the queen is the most powerful piece on the board," he'd told her. "But the king is the one you must destroy to win."

The sound of the door opening made her turn. And there he was-Dante Castello. The man whose order had destroyed her family. The man she'd been preparing to kill for seven years.

He was taller than his photos suggested, broad-shouldered in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His dark hair was cut short on the sides but slightly longer on top, and his olive skin contrasted with eyes so dark they appeared almost black. A five o'clock shadow framed a jawline that could cut glass.

He was, Alessia was forced to admit, devastatingly handsome. And utterly dangerous.

"Ms. Bianchi," he said, his voice a deep baritone that carried easily across the room. "I apologize for keeping you waiting."

Alessia slipped into her role as easily as she'd slipped into her dress earlier. "Not at all, Mr. Castello. I was admiring your library."

He crossed the room with the confident stride of a man who had never had to worry about watching his back. Foolish. If he knew who she was, he would never turn his back on her.

"Are you a reader?" he asked, coming to stand beside her at the bookshelf. Up close, she could smell his cologne-something expensive and subtle, with notes of sandalwood and bergamot.

"When I have time," she replied with a professional smile. "Which isn't often, given my line of work."

Dante studied her face for a moment longer than was comfortable, and Alessia felt a flicker of unease. Did he recognize something in her features? Some echo of her father that seven years of careful disguise couldn't erase?

But then he smiled-a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth that didn't quite reach his eyes-and gestured toward the sitting area near the fireplace.

"Let's discuss this gala, then. I understand you come highly recommended."

Alessia followed him to the pair of leather armchairs, maintaining the perfect balance of confidence and deference in her posture. "Yes, I've organized events for several prominent families in the city. I believe your associate, Mr. Rossi, mentioned my work for the Viscontis last spring."

Antonio Rossi-once her father's friend before he'd betrayed him to align with the Castellos. He'd been the one to recommend "Sofia Bianchi" for the job, not knowing he was helping place the knife at his new boss's throat.

"He did," Dante confirmed, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat. "Though I make it a point to do my research as well."

Something in his tone made Alessia's instincts flare. She kept her expression pleasantly neutral as she took the seat across from him.

"Of course. Due diligence is important in any business relationship."

Dante leaned back, one arm draped casually over the chair's arm. There was nothing casual about the intensity of his gaze, however. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey.

"The Viscontis spoke highly of your discretion, Ms. Bianchi. That quality is particularly valuable to me and my family."

"Discretion is the foundation of my business," Alessia replied smoothly. "Your guests will experience a flawless evening, and you'll never have to concern yourself with the details-or worry about them becoming public knowledge."

Dante nodded slowly, his dark eyes never leaving her face. "This event benefits our family's foundation. There will be politicians, judges, business leaders, people whose support is essential to our charitable efforts. Everything must be perfect."

The charitable foundation was one of the Castello family's most effective money laundering operations, according to Marco's intelligence. The "essential support" Dante mentioned came at the cost of bribes and blackmail. But Alessia just nodded, the picture of professional enthusiasm.

"I assure you, it will be. I've taken the liberty of preparing some initial concepts based on the foundation's previous events." She reached into her clutch and withdrew a small, sleek tablet. "May I?"

When Dante nodded, she pulled up her presentation and handed him the tablet. As he scrolled through her ideas, she observed him. Despite his relaxed posture, there was a coiled tension in his body that reminded her of a snake ready to strike. This was a man who had killed to reach his position, and would do so again without any hesitation to maintain it.

"These are...impressive," he finally said, handing the tablet back. "Particularly your security considerations. Most event planners focus solely on aesthetics."

"Security and aesthetics aren't mutually exclusive," Alessia replied. "The best security is invisible to guests while remaining effective. I imagine that's a philosophy you appreciate in other areas of your business as well."

It was a calculated risk, that subtle hint that she understood the true nature of the Castello business. But she needed to establish herself as someone who could operate in their world without asking uncomfortable questions.

Something flickered in Dante's eyes-amusement, perhaps, or approval.

"Indeed." He stood abruptly. "You're hired, Ms. Bianchi. Mrs. Vega will provide you with the guest list and budget details. The event is six weeks away, which should give you adequate time."

Alessia rose as well, maintaining the perfect professional distance between them. "More than adequate. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Castello."

"Dante," he corrected her, extending his hand. "We'll be working closely together in the coming weeks. No need for such formalities."

Alessia took his hand, forcing herself not to flinch at the contact. This was the same hand that had likely signed her father's death warrant. The hand she would eventually cut off before she killed him.

"Sofia, then," she replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

His grip was firm, his hand warm against her cooler one. And for a brief, disorienting moment, something electric passed between them, something that had nothing to do with hatred or revenge.

Dante held her gaze a moment too long before releasing her hand. "Welcome to the Castello family, Sofia. I have a feeling you're going to make quite an impact here."

If only he knew just how right he was.

As Mrs. Vega escorted her back through the mansion, Alessia fought to keep her breathing steady. Phase one was complete. She was in.

Now the real game could begin.

What she didn't see was Dante Castello watching her departure from his study window, phone in hand as he dialed a number from memory.

"It's me," he said when the call connected. "She's here. Antonio Ricci's daughter just walked into my house, exactly as we predicted." He paused, listening to the voice on the other end. "No, she has no idea I know who she is. Let's keep it that way for now."

He ended the call and turned back to his desk, pulling open the bottom drawer. Inside was a file labeled simply "Ricci." He flipped it open to reveal a photo of a younger Alessia, taken years ago before the night that had changed everything.

Beneath it was a surveillance photo taken just last week: Alessia entering her apartment building, unaware she was being watched.

Dante ran his finger along the edge of the photo, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Welcome home, little queen," he murmured. "Let's see if you're as good at chess as your father was."