Her plans usually get us caught before we even begin to execute them.Her plans are also the reason we now have three bodyguards instead of one, although that could have something to do with the Bratva too.
“Come on, Gia, stop being so negative,” Chiara says.“You deserve to have some fun.What do you have to lose, anyway?”
Not much.I’m already doomed to wither away behind the walls of one of my father’s many mansions or apartments or beach houses and everything in between.I’ll never get married.No one will ever have me.So why the hell do I have to be careful anymore?
“OK, what’s your plan?”I ask, grinning at my sister in the mirror.She grins even wider, while in the distance, by the window, Lidia rolls her eyes again.“You guys are insane.”
“Maybe,” I say.“But if that’s true, I might as well start doing insane things to prove it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Chiara says, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.“I’ve already set the wheels in motion.We’re leaving for the city in an hour, so get ready.”
Lidia groans.“Come on, do we really want to put Mom and Dad through more grief right now?”
It’s a valid point.
But Chiara shakes her head.“They’ll never know we’re gone.And we deserve to have some fun once in a while, don’t we?Besides, we’re the three cursed sisters.Who’s gonna mess with us?”
I wish she hadn’t brought that up, and I think she does too.There’s a heaviness in the room now that wasn’t there before, and everything just seems so pointless again.
The one important thing a woman in our world can achieve is a good marriage and the three of us… we’re not even gonna get that much the way things are going.We’re just gonna waste away in beautiful houses, changing in and out of beautiful clothes that cost about the same as it costs to feed a five-person family for a month.
“You’re exaggerating, but fine,” Lidia relents.“I haven’t been dancing in ages.”
It’s true.The last time we snuck out was before all this trouble with the Bratva started.Though Lidia actually prefers to stay home and read.But Chiara and I have also been very good since our brother was killed.But it is my birthday, and I deserve to have some fun too…
“Me either,” I say.“Let’s do it!”
It feels a little like I’ve just spoken my famous last words.But that’s just my inner good girl fretting—the one that’s always done exactly what was expected of her and didn’t get a whole lot in return.
I’d asked my dad for a small b-day celebration with just family, but he insisted on this monstrous thing.So going out tonight will be my gift to myself… a night away from all his expectations of me, and all the ways I’ve failed him.
Chapter2
MATTEO
A nightand half a day of flying, switching out three different planes, but I’m finally here.In NYC, where it all began.Where my great-grandfather got off the boat at Ellis Island with one dream and one dream only.Make it.He did.His son did.As for us, we reversed it all.But now it’s time for me to change it back.
I can’t quite see the Statue of Liberty and adjacent Ellis Island from the large windows of my cousin Niccolo’s penthouse, but over the skyscrapers I can see all the way to the horizon where the sun is setting a violent red and orange.Rosso di sera, buon tempo si spera.My grandmother used to say that.Meaning that a red sunset would bring good weather.Or good times.I hope it holds true for that too.
“You almost ready?”Nico asks from the hallway leading from the open-plan kitchen, dining and living room situation to the bedrooms.
We’re first cousins on my mother’s side and haven’t seen each other in over seven years, but whenever we get together, it’s like no time has passed at all.We could pass for brothers, since we’re built almost the same, have similar light brown hair and our eyes are the exact same shade of green.Probably why we click so well.That’s gonna come in handy now.
“I’m gonna need to borrow some clothes,” I say and grin at him.“I brought nothing.”
He rolls his eyes.“What kind of bum are you?Do you think there’s no limit to my hospitality?”
“Just this one more thing,” I say and grin at him.“Then I’m done asking favors.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” he says and points behind him.“Help yourself to anything you need from my closet.Just stay away from the Gucci.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking about the Gucci, but I’m sure he’s joking about everything else.
“Thanks, I owe you,” I say and walk past him, swinging a few mock punches in his direction of his stomach, which he expertly dodges.
“Yeah, you do owe me.”
That’s some more trash talking.But he’s also talking truth.This is just one more favor in a long line of favors his family have done mine.From taking in my sister, Isabella, when she was hooked on heroin and had disgraced herself by shunning the man she was engaged to, all the way to stepping in and saving my life when said fiancé decided he was offended enough to demand blood.Dante Moretti.A name I can’t even think about without fiery black hate washing over me like molten lava.
