When I mention returning to my studies, Dad grunts noncommittally, as though he doesn’t care about my education, but at least it’s something that can occupy me that isn’t thoughts of defiance and escape. Or Vincenzo.
Secretly, I’m always thinking of Vincenzo. His cold voice calling medoelike it’s both an insult and an endearment.
Dad’s soldiers follow my car as I drive to college. They walk behind me on campus, their heavy footsteps announcing my presence before I arrive, and they flank me in class. I’m painfully aware of the stares the dangerous men draw. Of the handful of acquaintances I’ve made, none of them approach me, even to say a brief hello or welcome me back after more than six weeks’ absence. They’re all what my friend Lucy and I have nicknamed “normies.” People whose fathers aren’t in the mafia, and therefore couldn’t hope to understand what our lives are like.
My insides ache from loneliness, but perhaps it’s for the best that no one approaches me. I wouldn’t know how to respond to the simplest questions like,How are you?andWhere have you been?
Well, I’ve been hiding in a crummy apartment and working at a coffee shop ever since my father used me to slaughter a rival family. I helped an assassin commit a quadruple murder, and we made out after. I was locked on a balcony to freeze to death. I murdered a man. The assassin wants to marry me or kill me. I’m not sure which. How are you?
My college acquaintances would back away slowly, staring at me like I’m monstrous.
But Lucy would understand.
She’s the youngest daughter of Don Carlucci, head of the Barone crime family, and one of Dad’s allies. They trust each other as much as two powerful dons living in the same city can trust each other, but they recognize that they’re strongertogether. At least for now. Dad had no problem wiping out Don Elio and the rest of the Vicis, so maybe he’ll turn on the Barones next.
There’s one important difference, however. The Barones are “our” kind of people, meaning rich, polished, and well-connected. The Vicis, like the Lucanias, the other crime family in Malus, are none of these things. Or I should say,werenone of these things. The Vicis are dead, apart from Vincenzo and whoever has sworn fealty to his family, and the Lucanias are broken. Don Gabriel Lucania has been in prison for twenty-something years, and though Rafiel has taken over, he’s barely holding the family together.
Over dinner that night, I mention the possibility of having lunch with Lucy after class. I have to tell Dad, because his men are reporting on all my movements in excruciating detail. I overheard one of them telling him I stopped at a pharmacy for tampons, and I sarcastically asked if they’d all like access to my period tracker app.
Dad’s eyes narrow. He approves of the Barones, but he’s never wholeheartedly approved of defiant, rebellious Lucy. He’d rather I was friends with Lucy’s older sister, Ariana. If anyone asked me, I’d say that I like Ariana well enough, though we’ve never clicked. Lucy once asked me what I really think of Ariana, and I said I found her a little mean and a touch too proud. Lucy said the word I’m looking for isobnoxious, and I couldn’t disagree with her.
People who only know Lucy by sight think she’s just as cold, proud, and stuck-up as her sister. The truth is that Lucy is wary of most people, so her walls are sky high and built from steel. But once she lets you inside, she’s one of the warmest, kindest, and smartest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of being friends with. I only know of two people she’s ever let inside her walls. Me, and her brother Damiano.
I grip my fork and flick my gaze surreptitiously at Dad, silently praying that he’s not going to forbid me from seeing my best friend.
Dad chews his steak and swallows. He reaches for his glass of red wine, and just when my nerves are at breaking point, he finally mutters, “If you must. Come straight home afterward.”
“Yes, Dad.” I carefully and quietly breathe a sigh of relief.
I need my best friend right now more than ever.
The coffee shopLucy chose is small and bright, tucked into a corner of the university district where students cluster around tiny tables with their laptops and overpriced lattes. Sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, and hanging plants cascade from macramé holders, their leaves catching the light and turning it green-gold. It’s warm and alive and so different from the cold stone mausoleum I’ve been living in that I almost want to cry.
Lucy is already there when I arrive, seated at a corner table where she can see both exits. A Barone habit. She’s dressed in jeans and a silk blouse, her curly hair pulled back in a way that makes her look older than twenty. More guarded. When she sees me, her face lights up with relief.
She stands and pulls me into a fierce hug. “Adora. I’ve been worried sick.”
I hold on to her tightly, breathing in her familiar perfume, which is something warm and expensive. When we pull apart, I see the concern written all over her face.
“Where have you been?” she says as we sit down. “You disappeared for weeks, and all anyone would tell me was thatyou were ‘away.’ I tried calling. I tried visiting. Your father’s men turned me away at the gate.”
Guilty fingers clutch my heart. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you like that.”
“It’s not your fault.” Lucy reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I know how your father is. I was terrified something had happened to you. Especially after…” She trails off, glancing around to make sure no one is listening, and lowers her voice to a whisper. “After what happened with the Vicis.”
My stomach clenches. Of course she knows about the massacre. Everyone in Malus knows.
A waitress appears, and we order coffee. When the waitress leaves, Lucy leans forward.
“Tell me everything,” she says. “And don’t leave anything out.”
There’s nothing I want more than to get all that’s happened to me off my chest. “First of all, I think I might be engaged? I’m not sure, though.”
Lucy is startled, her water glass freezing halfway to her lips. “Wait, what? To who?”
“Vincenzo Vici. He still wants to marry me,” I say, the words feeling surreal even as I speak them.
“After his family attacked Don Agnello? That’s presumptuous of him. I hope you told him where to shove his proposal.”
