26
DAISY
I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m nice. I’m incredibly mean, and everyone thinks I’m joking. —Daisy
If hanging out with Bianca for nearly twenty-four hours teaches me anything, it’s that women in criminal organizations party like there’s no tomorrow.
“I’m drunk.” That announcement parts my dry, cracked lips and is followed by a weak fist pump toward the rotating blades of the ceiling fan overhead.
Bianca’s snort of laughter has me turning my head slightly in her direction. I catch sight of the spread of her lush, dark hair. Man, I wish my hair was that nice, all silky smooth and shampoo commercial–style. I wonder if I chop it all off and fashion a wig out of it, will it make me look like her? My arm slumps back to my side.
“You’re not drunk, babes,” Bianca says, “you’re high.”
“I thought those were cigarettes.”
“And I thought you said you don’t smoke,” she shoots back.
Touché, bitch.
She holds up one of the thin rolls from her pack. “The cigarette pack keeps Uncle Stefano from looking too closely,” she explains, her voice way more level than mine. “He doesn’t approve of the smoking, but imagine if he knew it was weed.”
Surely Uncle Stefano—PapáStefano, I remind myself—can smell the difference. I suspect he does but ignores it because he loves his niece so much. Hell, I’ve only known her less than a day, and I’m already half in love with her myself.
“Fuck Giulio,” I say lightly. “Can I marry you instead?”
Her bark of a laugh is way too feminine and pretty. Life really ain’t fair. When I laugh, I sometimes sound like a honking pig. Sure, I tell myself it’s adorable, but whenever I end up snorting, I get weird looks. Each one is a knife to my self-esteem. Right now, though, I have no self-esteem. I feel like I’m fucking floating away, and it’s nice. I’m no longer angry, just…
“I’m hungry,” I grumble.
Bianca reaches for a tray that had been brought in earlier by an older woman in a gray frock that looked almost like a uniform. A maid? Maybe. It wouldn’t surprise me if Giulio grew up surrounded by maids and cooks and servants, but wait… no, he hadn’t, had he? He was a foster kid like me before he was adopted byPapáStefano. That’s nice. At least he’ll never judge me about where I came from.
“I expected you might be.” Bianca’s words draw my head up and around as they disrupt my thoughts. She holds the tray out to me. My greedy little fingers latch on to the fruit and pop it into my mouth.
“Oh God,” I moan. “This is just what I needed.”
She snickers and lowers down a whole plate of the slices. I snatch it from her hands before she can pluck one free and then curl around it protectively. “Mine,” I snap, shoveling another into my mouth.
Holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender, she grins. “I’m shocked that you’ve never had weed before,” she comments. “I feel like everyone’s tried it at least once by the time they’re twenty-one.”
I shrug as I chew on the juicy fruit in my mouth and swallow. “I saw a bunch of kids get into the shit, and it always led to something hardcore. I wasn’t interested,” I reply. “I’d rather fuck a douchebag than snort coke.”
Her pretty face wrinkles in disgust. “Oh, ew, I didn’t need to know about my cousin’s sex life, thanks.”
“Giulio’s not a douchebag,” I reply, then pause. “Well, actually, no, he’s being a fucking douchebag right now.” I scowl as I recall why I’m here at the Luciani Family Estate in the first place. “Do you know why he brought me here?” I demand, but before she can answer, I jump ahead. “When Giulio saw Emil, he lost it. I get that the whole protective he-man thing can be hot, but it was not. Giulio said he was some big shot from a different family.” I glance over at her as I lift another slice of apple and hold it in front of my face, using it as a gesturing mechanism. “Emil Cesari or something like that, and he—”
“Wait!” Bianca gapes at me, cutting me off mid-sentence.
“Um, rude,” I say. “I was talking here.” Then I realize how close that line is to the one fromMidnight Cowboy. I laugh and repeat it in the right accent. “I’mtalkinghere!” I laugh again, and what do you know, the pig honk comes right out,but I don’t care because my belly is full, and I’m flying high as a kite.
“You saw Emilio Cesari?” Bianca’s face appears over mine, and I realize I’ve slumped back on the floor once more. She gently takes the plate of leftover apple slices from me and sets them to the side. Her hands are cool on my face as she taps my cheek. “Daisy, pay attention. Did you see Emilio Cesari?”
I bob my head up and down. “Yeah,” I say. “And his dog. She was supercute. Her name’s Luna.”
A strange expression crosses Bianca’s face, but a moment later, it’s gone, and she sighs. Her hands move down to my wrist, and I groan as she forces me into a sitting position. “All right, I think you’ve had enough,” she murmurs. “Come on, let’s get you to one of the guest rooms and into a shower. I think some cold water might help you come back to yourself.”
More groans and shuffling ensue as Bianca urges me onto legs that don’t feel all that capable of walking. “I can’t believe he just walked away from me like that,” I grumble as Bianca slings one of my arms around both of her shoulders. “How come you’re not as high as me?” I ask.
“Who walked away from you?” she replies and then shakes her head. “I’ve smoked weed for the last ten years, kid. I’ve got a tolerance. You don’t.”
