The Machiavellian Prince

For as long as I could remember, Saverio Macchiavello had been a part of my life. He was the son of the Machiavellian King of New York, and I was considered Italian royalty—a princess in the infamous Fausti family. Our families had been friends since before I was born. A connection existed between us that wasn’t normal. It was the strongest thing I’d ever felt. It tethered me to him whether I wanted it to or not. One of us couldn’t seem to exist without the other. It was the same sort of epic love my parents had. I was terrified of it. Because being a part of the Fausti famiglia meant danger always lurked in the shadows. And as a top soldier for my family, and my personal bodyguard, Saverio would die to see me safe. And someone wanted me dead.

For as long as I could remember, Saverio Macchiavello had been a part of my life. He was the son of the Machiavellian King of New York, and I was considered Italian royalty—a princess in the infamous Fausti family. Our families had been friends since before I was born. A connection existed between us that wasn’t normal. It was the strongest thing I’d ever felt. It tethered me to him whether I wanted it to or not. One of us couldn’t seem to exist without the other. It was the same sort of epic love my parents had. I was terrified of it. Because being a part of the Fausti famiglia meant danger always lurked in the shadows. And as a top soldier for my family, and my personal bodyguard, Saverio would die to see me safe. And someone wanted me dead.