“You girls look lovely,” she coos, taking a few steps inside, her gaze glinting with love and approval.
I wish the pride in her eyes didn’t irk me so, but it does.
“Thank you,Mammà,” Anna sheepishly replies. “Doesn’t Stella look absolutely breathtaking?” my sister adds, forcing my mother to take in every inch of the lie she wished was true.
The vision before her is exactly the type of daughter my mother always wanted—beautifully kept, softly spoken, and immaculately well behaved. The true definition of an Outfit princess.
While Anna fits the bill perfectly, even at fifteen, I do not. You can put me in a fancy dress and drown me in diamonds, but my spirit will always refuse to be caged. And this right here, having to pretend to be something I am not, feels like a prison. One that I don’t intend to stay locked in for long.
When my mother is met with nothing but a scowl on my lips, the light in her eyes dims, and a part of me almost feels guilty for causing it.
Though I should be used to it by now. My unruly attitude has always been the bane of my mother’s happiness.
“Yes, she does.” She smiles at us both, though it never meets her eyes. My chest constricts as I watch her pluck out her jade earrings from her lobes, and then grab my hand to place theminto my palm. “These will look much better on you than they ever did on me.”
I fist them in my hand, my scowl deepening, as her smile fades further.
“We leave in five minutes. Your father and I will wait for you downstairs.” With no further word, she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
Anna tries not to look at me accusingly, but I see how I’ve displeased her, too.
“Just say it, Anna. I already know what you’re thinking.”
“Then if you already know, what’s the point of me saying anything at all?”
“Whatever,” I grumble, taking off the diamond studs and replacing them with my mother’s earrings like she wants. “Let’s just get this show on the road. The faster we do this, the faster I can get out of this dress.”
I don’t wait for my sister to reply and just rush out the door. If I stayed a second longer, Anna would have played devil’s advocate, hoping her words of reason would persuade me to ease up on giving our mother such a hard time. Though to be fair, I didn’t say anything at all just now. But then again, I don’t need to say much to be the bad guy in my mother’s eyes. Even when I don’t open my mouth in defiance, my expression ends up saying it all.
What Annamaria doesn’t understand is that it’s because of our mother that I feel like my life is permanently on hold. I’m positive that Dad would have let me be inducted into the Outfit by now if she hadn’t always been whispering in his ear that women have no place in the family business. She might have failed to prevent Jude and Marcello from being inducted, but she still believes that she has a say when it comes to me. Lord knows she has more than enough artillery to use against me in her favor.
In all its years, the Outfit has never allowed a woman to rise tomadestatus. The Syndicate doesn’t even let women serve as soldiers. The closest a woman has ever come is as a low-level associate. My father inducting me into thefamigliawould set a precedent that would go against decades of tradition.
Even with such odds stacked against me, I still have hope that I can wear my father down. And if I can’t, then I’ll bide my time until Marcello takes his throne. My brother wouldn’t deny me. Jude, maybe. Not Marcello. There is only one caveat to this plan. And that’s the waiting.
I don’t trust that Marcello will becomeCapo Dei Capianytime soon. Maybe in fifteen years or even twenty, but not now. And that’s a fucking lifetime away. By then, it won’t be the fact that I’m a woman that keeps me from being inducted. It’ll be because I’ll be too old. A forty-something woman being made is an even more far-fetched scenario.
If my mom would just back me up… If she put herself in my shoes… If she only understood me… Then maybe I wouldn’t resent her so. And maybe if she didn’t expect me to be like Annamaria all the time, she wouldn’t resent me either.
As predicted, this fucking party is one hell of a boring snoozefest.
I’ve spent most of the night on this balcony, sipping pink champagne and counting down the minutes for us to leave. I’vebeen watching my parents mingle throughout the room, while poor Anna remains tethered to my mother’s side at all times. After I spent a couple of hours doing the same, my father didn’t put up much of a fight when I told him that I needed a breather. My mother didn’t say anything on the contrary either, since the last thing she wants is to cause a scene. However, from the lingering sad glimmer in Annamaria’s eyes, I can tell she’s still upset I bailed on her so early.
I know that having me by her side would make this event far more tolerable, but I couldn’t muster another fake-ass smile without losing my goddamn mind.
So here I am, leaning against the railing and getting tipsy, watching the crowd below mingle and make connections, while pretending to care about the charity they’re supposed to be raising money for. It’s all so… fake.
When my parents throw these parties at the old Salvatore mansion, I can stomach it more since I can always eavesdrop on a fewcapostalking business to keep me entertained. But here? It’s nothing but rich fat cats acting like they rule the world. Newsflash—they don’t.
No matter how many billions you have in your bank account, your life is just as frail as the guy begging on a street corner. It can all go away with a snap of a finger. A lesson we Romano kids learned early on in our lives. We don’t take anything for granted. Not our wealth, not our privilege, and most importantly, not the air that fills our lungs. We all know that enemies loom and lurk in dark corners, plotting ways to take it all away from us. That alone keeps us humble and vigilant.
Unlike these pricks. They think they are untouchable. How wrong they are. One quick flick of my blade and they’d be nothing more than a notice in the obituary section of a Sunday paper.
I really must be bored out of my mind if fantasizing about slitting these one-percenters’ throats is the highlight of my evening.
Still, looking down at my sister, with her head bowed as if she wanted nothing more than to shrink herself until she disappeared entirely, I realize that, unlike me, Anna wouldn’t find any comfort or distraction in thoughts of bloodshed.
Damn it. Guess my time’s up. No one is going to rescue my sister but me, so I’d better get a move on.
