I’m Lucky Charm, Even the Don Kneels – I was born a walking lucky charm. Anyone who shook my hand watched their stocks hit the daily limit. Anyone who sat across from me at dinner saw their deal sail through approval. But me? I was permanently, spectacularly broke. That was why the Donna of the Castellano family came looking for me, begging me on behalf of her son, Marco Castellano. She wanted me to marry him. Tears streaming down her face, she grabbed my hands and said, “Selena, the Castellano family is barely holding on. You’re the only one who can save us. If he ever wrongs you, you can walk away whenever you want — and the family will pay you a hundred grand a month, no questions asked.” I figured I had nothing for anyone to swindle out of me anyway, and she was offering cash upfront, so I nodded.
Three years later, the Castellano family had gone from the brink of bankruptcy to running the smuggling operations at three of Port Harbor’s piers, with two underground casinos on the side. I’d gone from a shared basement rental to a hilltop mansion with its own pool. Which is where I was that afternoon — floating on my back, soaking in the sun — when I overheard Marco and his lieutenant Luca talking on the deck above me. “Boss, Isabella’s flying back next week. What are you gonna do about the ball and chain?” “Throw her fifty grand. Tell her the family’s hit another rough patch. She’ll buy it.” “And if she won’t sign the papers?” “A woman who only wants me for the money?” Marco’s voice was flat. “If she tries to make a scene, she won’t see a single cent.” Luca snorted.
“Remember, back when your mom panicked and dropped half a mil on that con-artist fortune teller who swore the girl’s ‘special constitution’ would bring the family luck? Three years later, and the truth is you clawed this family back up with your own two hands.” “I’ve already booked the restaurant,” Marco said. “The night Isabella lands, I’m proposing.” That’s when I kipped up out of the water, hair plastered to my face, and popped my head over the edge. “So when exactly are we signing the divorce papers?” Both of them nearly fell off their loungers. Marco’s face went ashen. “You — how long have you been in there?” I wrung out my hair. “I swim for an hour every day. As the family’s Donna, I have a figure to maintain. Okay? Now cut the crap. When are we getting this divorce done? Don’t hold up my next marriage.” Marco actually laughed, short and mean. “A con artist like you? Without me, you’re nothing.” I almost laughed back. Sweetheart, I really am a walking lucky charm.
The only person I’ve never been able to make rich is myself — everyone else who touches me wins the jackpot. And honestly? I’d been over living in the Castellano house for a while. His mother had been kind to me, I’d give her that. A hundred grand a month like clockwork, the best food, the best clothes. But Marco? In three years of marriage, the total number of words he’d spoken to me wouldn’t fill a paperback, and most of them were “mm,” “okay,” and “got it.” I’d started wondering if he treated me like some human-shaped lucky cat figurine — set me on a shelf, feed me, no conversation required. Fine by me. I had the mansion, the black card, the pool. And now I wanted out. I turned and walked inside. Ten minutes later I came back out holding two copies of a divorce agreement. “Since you feel that way — sign. Let’s part on good terms.” Marco stared down at the paperwork, jaw twitching. “You’re serious?” “You brought it up first.” I tilted my head.
“What, you gonna miss my lucky-charm vibes?” His face darkened. He locked eyes with me. “Outside of eating, shopping, and sleeping, what exactly did you ever do? You once lost a hand of Texas Hold’em holding a royal flush. You’re not a lucky charm — you’re a damn jinx.” My eyes went wide. A lucky charm, insulted as a jinx. That did it. Marco had crossed the line. I slapped the agreement flat against his chest. “Fine. We’re getting divorced. But remember this — it’s me, the lucky charm, walking out on your house.” The moment I turned around, I was already pulling my phone out of my bag. I scrolled down to a number I’d kept for three years and never once dialed. Marco’s worst enemy. Vincenzo Ricci.
The Riccis and the Castellanos had been at each other’s throats for generations, shooting it out over pier control more times than anyone could count. Lately Vincenzo had been under police surveillance, most of his pier business had been chewed up by Marco, and the whole family was circling the drain. The line rang twice before he picked up. “Hello?” “Vincenzo, right? This is Selena. Marco’s soon-to-be ex-wife.” A beat of silence. “And you’re calling because…?” “I want to marry you.”