"Oh," I gasped softly, the sound catching in my throat as Angelina laid out the reality of her upcoming marriage to Adam.

I hadn't expected it to be a completely transactional, one-sided arrangement. The realization that both Sullivan and her father were orchestrating this union strictly for their own syndicate interests left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I tilted my head, glancing up toward the second-story balcony. Sullivan was locked in an intense conversation with Mr. Bianchi. I could tell by the sharp, unyielding set of his posture that the subject was critical. He held a lit cigar between his fingers, exhaling a plume of thick smoke directly into...