Aria learned what she was worth at twenty-one. It was written on a bar napkin.

$480,000. It was written in her father's shaky handwriting, pushed across a poker table like it was nothing.

She was still standing in the doorway of the back room at The Velvet Ace, jacket damp from the rain. She'd only come because of the emergency text he had recently sent to her.

"Are you kidding me? What is going on?" Her voice came out smaller than she meant it to.

Three men in suits looked up. Her father didn't.

"Dad, I asked you a question. What is this?"

"Not now, Aria," he muttered, eyes stuck on his cards.

The man at the head of the table was already watching her.

Dante Moretti. Everyone knew that name. A mafia don. The coldest man in the city.

He didn't stare. He just looked her over, calm and steady.

"Is this your daughter?" he asked.

Her father nodded too fast. "Yes. Aria. She's twenty-one, a good girl. She cooks, she cleans. No trouble, I promise."

Her stomach turned. "Can you not talk about me like I'm not standing right here?"

Something almost like amusement flickered across Dante's face.

"You sure she won't be trouble? She looks rebellious."

Her father gave that nervous laugh he always did when he was losing. "Aria, tell him you'll be good."

"No."

It just slipped out.

Dante raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"I'm not a thing," she said, shoving her shaking hands into her pockets. "And I'm not obedient."

Her father's face crumpled. "Aria, please. You don't know what they'll do to me."

"You promised Mom," she said quietly. "You said you were done."

He dropped to his knees crying. Part of her wanted to hold him. The other part wanted to scream at him.

Dante stood and walked around the table toward her. He looked tired up close. Scar through his eyebrow. Expensive suit, but his knuckles were scuffed like he still fought his own fights.

"She's got fire," he said. For once he didn't sound cold. Just honest.

He picked up the napkin, folded it once, and put it in his pocket.

"I'll clear it," he told her father.

Her father gasped. "Thank you — you don't know what this means—"

"I'm not finished," Dante cut in, eyes back on Aria. "I'll clear it on one condition. She comes home with me tonight."

Aria let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "That's insane. You can't just buy a person."

"I just did," he said simply.

He held out his hand. She didn't take it.

He leaned in a little, voice lower so only she could hear. "You're walking out that door with me tonight."

She looked at her father. He was still on his knees, crying, unable to even look at her.

The anger hit so fast it scared her.

She walked right past Dante's outstretched hand and headed for the door on her own.

"I can walk by myself," she said.

Behind her, she heard him chuckle softly.

"Yeah," he murmured. "She can."