Prologue
Arianna
I’ve always believed New York City has a way of revealing itself in layers. After exploring just about everywhere one could go, it’s safe to say that I’ve seen most of it. From the glass and steel of the skyscrapers to the beautiful mess of green and brown of Central Park, the blinding lights of Times Square all the way to the hidden gems tucked into corners most tourists never find. I’ve been to the side of town where all tourists flock, but I’ve also wandered through Chinatown at midnight and appreciated the brownstones of Harlem on lazy Sunday mornings.
I’ve seen so much. I’ve vlogged it. And now, I’m ready for something new.
Living in what is considered the greatest city in the world has left me feeling restless—not because I don’t love it here, but because the world is so much bigger than one city, even this one. Sure, there are perks of living close to my family, but in the past year, with my cousins and twin sister set on helping me find love, I’ve found even more reasons to hit the road.
The thing is, I don’t need love. It ties you down to one place, to one person, and well, I prefer not to be tied down—at least not yet. Not when there’s so much left to explore. A part of me isn’t sure how my family will take it when I tell them of my plans for the cross-country trip I’ve been dreaming about. They worry about me. I know that. But I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m discovering someplace new.
Well, at least that’s what I thought until I walked into this gallery. I was certain I knew this city inside and out.
I was wrong.
From the moment I set foot into this building, with its stark white walls and polished floors, I was completely mesmerized. Everything in this hall is pristine, untouched in a way that feels almost sacred—a blank canvas designed to let the art breathe. And breathe it does. Paintings designed to look like different parts of the city fill the space with vibrant splashes of color.
“My New York!”is both the title and the theme of this art exhibition, and as I walk through the gallery, I realize that I’ve never viewed New York City through the eyes of someone who adores it this deeply. And this artist, Gabriella Rossi, clearly does.
I stop before a piece, a painting designed to look like a window with a view of the city at dusk. My breath catches in my throat as I take in every detail in those brush strokes. Gabriella has captured the city through a lens I’ve never considered before. The buildings aren’t just concrete and steel. They look alive—breathing—with lights that play across the glass and reflect the sky in a kaleidoscope of colors. And the streets below? They’re a hive of activity, yet there’s a sense of order. A rhythm, I’ve always felt but never quite seen until now.
But it’s not just this one painting. As my eyes move to the next, I find myself drawn to the painting of Central Park in the fall. It’s stunning. All those beautiful hues of red, orange, yellow, and brown take my breath away. But I can tell that the trees aren’t the main focus of the painting. The people are. The ones sprawled everywhere, picnicking and sunbathing. There’s a busker on the corner and a vendor selling hot dogs. My eyes shift to the girl walking her dog, and God, I didn’t think it was possible to capture all that with just paint and a brush, but she did. Somehow, she breathed life into the painting.
But it’s another painting that stops me in my tracks—a quieter corner of the city, one of those neighborhood streets tourists never find. A café with mismatched chairs spilling onto the sidewalk, a woman reading on a fire escape, a cat watching from a windowsill. There is a strange beauty to the everyday moments, and each one of these paintings shows a version of the city’s soul I never stopped to appreciate.
And now, I can’t look away.
Without realizing what I’m doing, I find myself reaching for my phone, wanting to take a picture of this painting. The need to document this moment is strong, but before I can snap the photo, someone taps my shoulder, stopping me.
“Do you like that one?”
I turn around at the soft voice and I’m met by the stunning dark chocolate eyes of Gabriella Rossi, the youngest in the Rossi family. The genius painter and the mob princess.
It’s crazy to think that she and I are practically family now that two of her brothers married my cousins, and our families have become so intertwined I’ve lost track of all the connections. Even crazier to think that this all started after my Uncle Gio, “Sold off” his first daughter into the mob family for power inan arranged marriage. Things could have ended badly for my cousins and me if the Rossis were actual monsters, but instead, Sofia fell in love with her husband, Matteo Rossi, who, in turn, worked to protect the rest of us from getting married off the same way.
And now, nearly a year later, everyone in my family is either married or engaged to the love of their lives. In fact, Gabriella and I are the last in our families without partners. Aside from my youngest cousin, Bella, who is still seventeen and in high school, everyone seems to have found love. While I don’t have anything but my own wanderlust keeping me from dating, the same can’t be said about Gabriella. I suppose it can’t be easy to court the daughter and sister of some of the most dangerous men in the city.
I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be born into a mob family and have four overprotective brothers, and whether Gabriella gets to experience life without a bubble wrapped around her. Still, there is something in those gorgeous dark eyes that makes me think that perhaps the youngest of the Rossis is not as innocent and naive as everyone makes her out to be. Even so, she has a certain warmth that is absent from her brothers. And these paintings…they reflect that. I can feel the love and passion in her work.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, turning back to the masterpiece of a painting. I examine that quiet street corner that somehow feels like a secret the city whispered just to me. “How do you breathe life into a still image? You’ve even made such a chaotic city look so…intimate.”
“You think so?” Gabriella steps next to me and stares up at the painting. “I guess that’s how I see New York. Maybe it’s from a naive standpoint, but well, it’s how I see it anyway.”
“Naive, maybe, but also…different,” I say, eyes on the details—the steam rising from a coffee cup, the fairy lights strung across the café’s window. I don’t know how people will react to the fact that the mob princess found poetry in the ordinary, but instead of overlooking it like many would, she created something beautiful.
The truth is, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t raised in a wealthy and protected environment my entire life, too. My twin sister and I had parents who would have bubble-wrapped us if they could. They protected us from so much. But then, one day, they were stolen from us. Murdered while my twin sister watched from her hiding spot. Matilde and I were forced to move in with our uncle, who didn’t care much for us. Even then, we were sheltered in our own way—just not showered with love.
“Hey,” Gabriella whispers, shaking my shoulder a bit and pulling me back to the present. “If you like the painting so much, I’ll gift it to you.”
I chuckle at that, feeling the tension leave my shoulders. “I can’t accept that, Gabby.”
“I insist.”
“You need to make money at an art exhibition, and you can’t do that by giving your paintings away.”
“Well, they’re my paintings, and I can give them away if I like, and this one is yours,” she says stubbornly, raising a hand to stop me when I start to argue again. "Don’t you know it’s insulting to an artist when you turn down her work? And no, I won’t accept your money for it."
I turn back to the painting, taking in all the little details. Christ, it must have taken weeks if not months to paint. All that time and effort only for her to give it away. And I realize that I actually want it.
