1
AERIN
I envy Mom.
Not a day goes by that she isn’t the picture of elegance and peace. She thrives in a world meant to squash down women like us, a world where the men rise above because power trickles to them like it’s their birthright and nothing else matters.
Staring at the way her perfectly lined lips pull into a warm, polite smile for the waiter has my own mouth twitching, as if I could possibly mimic a smile so perfect.
I should be able to. I’m her daughter after all, but somewhere along the line, I lost my elegance.
Maybe I never had it to begin with.
Mom’s smile doesn’t waver as the waiter tops up her glass of wine, but her green eyes narrow when she catches me staring. Her eye color seems to be the only thing I’ve inherited from her.
“Sit up straight, Aerin,” she murmurs out of the corner of her mouth. “Remember, people are watching.”
People? What people?
It’s hard to believe that any of the guests at the other lavish tables surrounding us even dare to spare us a glance.
Those who keep their heads glued to their plates clearly know who my father is and know better than to sneak a glance. Those who don’t are too arrogantly wrapped up in their own little world to care.
I sit up straighter at her command and adjust the front of my dress, attempting to hide how the fabric strains around my middle.
Maybe that’s what I’m lacking.
Attempting to mimic Mom’s elegance fails at the first hurdle because she’s as thin as a rake.
She swallows and all the bones of her neck and collar protrude as sharp as knives.
I swallow and my chin doubles.
I’m staring again. She flashes me a sharp glance, a final warning, then faces Dad, who’s wrapped up whatever intense, important conversation he was having with his right-hand lieutenant.
“Guido, darling. Are we staying much longer?” She flutters her eyelashes at him.
Dad’s face loses every hard line and wrinkle as he smiles a smile only reserved for her. “Soon. We haven’t even had dessert yet.”
Mom glances at me through the corner of her eye. “Are you sure?”
Dad’s jaw ticks slightly as he very briefly clenches his teeth. “One more hour.”
I study them both, debating which one I’m supposed to echo. Mom, because she’s the only other woman in the family and through her I’m supposed to learn my place and how to act? Or Dad because he’s the Don, the head of the family, and six weeks ago he made me his heir?
Time and time again I wait for the answer to hit me, but it never does.
Laughter rises from a nearby table, stealing my attention away from the quiet conversation that rises between my parents.
The next table over has a man and a woman laughing loudly while their three children giggle and celebrate the arrival of a two-tier chocolate gâteau covered in sparklers and candles.
“This is too much!” gasps the older girl. She can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen.
Her wide, saucer-like eyes reflect the sparkles as her face lights up and she playfully attempts to blow out the candles.
Her two younger siblings push at one another, fighting for who gets the first taste.
That’s a happy family.
