All The Pretty Little Lies (Second Sons Duet #1)

1. Vesper

VESPER

Everyone assumes that being a spoiled little rich girl is the path to Easy Street. Designer clothes. Fancy cars. Exotic vacations to faraway places that most people only see in magazines and coffee table books.

Let me be the first to tell you.

It’s all bullshit.

It’s a facade that the uber rich of the world put out there to elevate themselves over the hard-working people who dream about the world I was born into. A world so dark and depraved that all those little fairy tale dreams of a worry-free little girl are nothing more than pastel painted nightmares. While most girls had pretty dolls, I had etiquette lessons. Play dates? No. I had dinner parties where my parents brought me out to show off, dangling me in front of the shark infested waters of their circle of friends, chumming the water to whet their appetites. I was trained to understand that my role was to seal alliances and provide heirs. My virginity and womb would be sold off to the highest bidder amongst the mafia families of the world. An arranged marriage to a stranger. My life was always on a specific path, one that was predetermined from the moment I took my first breath as the eldest daughter of the most powerful syndicate in the United States.

In the Rossi family, what lies between your legs decides your fate. The men automatically join the family business, like my younger brother Luca, who is next in line for succession. But for me, things were different. Instead of fairy tales and white picket fences, my future held a different kind of family obligations - one tied with blood and loyalty.

My father, Antonio Rossi, saw me solely as a bargaining chip to gain more power outside of the U.S. I was the first-born daughter in the Rossi family in two generations. Every mafia family, according to my father, is salivating to get a taste of the advantages that an alliance can bring. It’s the kind of thing every daughter wants their father to tell her at my age. The only thing that is useful about me is my ability to look pretty and make babies.

As soon as I turned eighteen, my final year of freedom, our house became a revolving door for potential suitors. Old. Young. Suitors that barely spoke English. A modern-day marriage market for the rich and powerful. Except, I was the only one on the market. I mean, there were plenty of other mafia princesses in the sea, but none of them carried my name or legacy. Other than my seventeen-year-old cousin, Bianca, I am the ultimate prize. Another family's way into my father’s empire.

While my peers were living out the teenage dream of parties, boyfriends, and friends, I was trapped within the confines of our family compound. My parents, determined to protect my virtue, kept me tightly sequestered. And when I wasn't attending my prestigious private school for the children of the rich and ruthless, I was confined to my luxurious yet lonely prison cell - my bedroom. My once cozy sanctuary now felt suffocating, a reminder of all the experiences I was missing. The hours I had wasted staring out my bedroom window, like I am now, a sad reminder of just how little control I have over my own life.

Only the sound of a quiet knock at my bedroom door before the click and clack of heels draws me away from my daydreaming of a better life. As I turn towards the door, my heart quickens with dread. The familiar scent of my mother's expensive perfume wafts into my room choking me before she even speaks a word.

"Vesper, darling, your father would like to see you in his study. He has news to share with you," she announces in a tone that leaves no room for argument. Normally, her Russian accent is well hidden, but not today. Something has rattled her to let her tight grip on her accent slip. My father had once told me that when his marriage was arranged to my mother that the first thing, he changed about her was her accent. If she were to be a Rossi, she’d speak as one.

Her cold, calculating gaze scrutinizes my disheveled appearance. "Is it so difficult for you to look presentable, Vesper? Your father despises sloppiness. You are a Rossi. Act like one." She huffed disapprovingly before disappearing into my walk-in closet. My eyes fall to the soft pink sweater and white leggings on my body, and I sigh. Unlike my mother, I prefer comfort over appearance.

Minutes later, she emerges with a designer white sweater, pale pink trousers, and matching heels, which she neatly lays out on my bed.

“If I had known you were in this state, I would have intervened sooner. Now get changed and tidy up your hair. Show some pride in yourself."

I mutter a defeated "yes, mother" as I reluctantly leave the comfort of the windowsill. My heart races with anxiety; my mother's standards for appearance are unyielding and unforgiving. Growing up in a mafia family has its challenges, but having a former supermodel for a mother only adds to the pressure. Unlike most mafia princesses who are married off at an early age, my maternal grandfather allowed my mother to remain unmarried until she was twenty-one. It's a luxury I wish I had been granted. All the women in our world were married off as soon as they turned eighteen. Marriages of convenience and strategy. Bianca, being the only other Rossi princess, would be next on the market after I’m married if Uncle Mario’s bragging to my father is to be believed. Unlike me, Bianca loved the attention. She thrives in it, really. She is the social butterfly at every party whereas I would much prefer to be left alone.

Taking the clothes, I slip into my bathroom and change. The soft, cashmere feels like pricking needles against my skin.

“Hurry up,” she demands from the other side of the door. I run my brush through my long, blonde hair twice before pulling it back into a low ponytail. Reluctantly, I leave the safety of my bathroom and step back into my bedroom back into my mother’s hard gaze.

“This will have to do.” Without another word, she turns on her designer heels and gracefully glides out of my bedroom door. I follow her out of my room and down the elaborate staircase of the Rossi mansion. The grand chandelier above us casts a soft glow on the polished marble floors as we make our way to the opulent sitting room where my fate is sealed over and over again.

As we enter the room, I notice a man standing with his back to us, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the sprawling estate. His broad shoulders are tense under his fitted suit jacket, betraying the calm demeanor he is trying to exude. My mother clears her throat, causing him to turn around slowly. What I see takes my breath away - piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through me, a strong jawline dusted with a hint of stubble, and an air of confidence that makes my pulse race.

“Oscar?” I blurt out in surprise.

I’d never formally met him or his twin brother, Zaire, but I’d have to be blind to have not noticed either of them at school. No one at my school was overtly unattractive, but Oscar and Zaire are like two tall, dark, and handsome gods who allowed us to be in their presence. Every female gaze lingered on them no matter where they went. They were members of the Petrov family. The Rossi equivalent in Russia. Powerful, and as wealthy as my family. He gives me a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Miss Rossi,” he greets me, his voice smooth like velvet. His Russian accent is rich and melodic, sending shivers down my spine.

“Please take a seat, Oscar. My husband will be with us shortly,” my mother offers.

The tension in the room is palpable as my mother gestures for us to sit across from each other on the plush sofas. As we both take our seats, I can't help but steal glances at him. His presence brings an unexpected comfort, even amidst the suffocating atmosphere of inevitability that hangs over me. I’d never been this close to him or any man my age that isn’t related to me. I can’t help but steal glances in his direction.

His eyes, a striking shade of blue like the winter sky, hold a depth that seem to hide countless secrets. His features sharp and chiseled, every line and angle perfectly complementing each other. His dark hair ends just below his ears. There is a quiet strength in the way he holds himself, a confidence that exudes power without needing to be spoken. As we sit in silence, the only sound filling the room is the ticking of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner. Each passing second feels like an eternity, stretching the tension between us until it is almost tangible.

Before either of us can breach the suffocating silence that envelopes us, the heavy mahogany door creaks open, revealing my father's imposing figure as he enters the room. His sharp gaze sweeps over us before settling on Oscar with a calculating glint in his eyes, who rises from his seat and extends his hand towards my father.

My father accepts the handshake with a curt nod, his expression unreadable. "Oscar Petrov, welcome to my home," he states, his tone laced with a thinly veiled hint of suspicion.

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Rossi," Oscar replies smoothly, his posture remaining composed despite the palpable tension in the room. “Please accept my uncle’s apology for not being here in person today.”

“When business calls, these things can’t be helped,” my father smirks. “It’s the way of things for families such as ours, is it not?”

Oscar only offers a polite nod.

I observe the exchange between them, feeling like a mere spectator in my own life. The weight of my family's expectations hangs heavy on my shoulders, suffocating any semblance of choice or autonomy. I steal a glance at Oscar, wondering what thoughts are running through his mind.

My father gestures for Oscar to take a seat once more, his piercing gaze never leaving him.

"Let's get straight to the point. Your uncle, Victor, and I have been working towards an agreement that would be mutually beneficial to both the Rossi’s and the Petrov’s.”

I feel a knot form in the pit of my stomach as I anticipate the direction this conversation is heading. My fate is slipping further out of my control with each passing moment. I struggle to keep my emotions in check, my heart racing as the weight of my father's words begin to crush me. If Oscar is here, it means only one thing. My Father has chosen a Petrov as my husband. Only one comes to mind, and the thought terrifies me.

Oscar's expression remains unreadable, his eyes briefly meet mine before returning to my father. His silence speaks volumes, a veil of mystery shrouding his thoughts and intentions.

"This arrangement will solidify the bond between our families for generations to come.”

Oscar nods in understanding, though a flicker of something unreadable crosses his eyes. “I am here to honor my family's commitments.” His voice is steady, betraying none of his thoughts swirling beneath the surface.

My father's gaze lingers on Oscar for a moment before he turns to me, a glint of expectation in his eyes. “And you, Vesper. Do you understand the significance of this union and what it means for our family?”

I swallow hard, steeling myself against the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume me. “Yes, Father. I understand,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “I accept my duty.”

A heavy silence descends upon the room once more, punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock. The weight of my impending future hangs over me like a shroud, snuffing out any semblance of control I had over my life.

"Good,” he smiles. “With the Rossi’s and Petrovs in alliance, no one will be able to touch us. This alliance will solidify both sides of the world with a single vow.” My father nearly glows with his delight. Everything that he has wanted will be at his fingertips the second he binds me to the Petrovs. His dream becomes my nightmare.

“When is the wedding?” my mother asks from behind us. “Preparations will need to be made for the ceremony.”

“A week,” he answers flatly. “Out of respect for your education, your future father-in-law has allowed you until your graduation day to fulfill your obligation.”

A gasp escapes my lips. My father’s eyes narrow in the rare break of my calm outward demure. A break that I may pay for later.

A week? That’s all that I am allowed to come to terms with this arrangement. That’s all the time I’m given until my life as I know it ends.

The words hang heavy in the air, sealing my fate with an irrevocable finality that sends a chill down my spine. I glance at Oscar and catch a brief glimpse of the whirlwind of emotions raging behind his cool facade. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, a silent understanding passing between us.

“A week isn’t much time,” my mother remarks. “There’s much to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he flatly answers.

“Father, am I permitted to ask a question?”

“Ask,” he declares.

“Why is Oscar here instead of Dmitri?”

“As Dmitri is still abroad, and will be until your wedding day, his father has appointed Oscar and his brother, Zaire, to be your guardians until you are handed off to your husband. They will also be joining your security detail at school.”

I steel myself against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm me, forcing a mask of stoicism over my features. With a barely perceptible nod, I acknowledge my father's decree, knowing that resistance would be futile. My destiny has been written in stone, and I am but a puppet.