spades by kyra irene

SPADES THE SUITS BOOK 1 OceanofPDF.com

KYRA IRENE OceanofPDF.com

CONTENTS Content Warning Playlist 1. Nina 2. Nina 3. Nina 4. Giovanni 5. Nina 6. Nina 7. Nina 8. Giovanni 9. Nina 10. Nina 11. Nina 12. Giovanni 13. Nina 14. Nina 15. Nina 16. Giovanni 17. Nina 18. Nina 19. Nina 20. Nina 21. Giovanni 22. Nina 23. Nina 24. Giovanni 25. Giovanni 26. Nina 27. Nina 28. Nina 29. Giovanni 30. Nina 31. Giovanni 32. Nina 33. Nina 34. Giovanni 35. Nina Epilogue

Acknowledgments Untitled OceanofPDF.com

Spades Copyright © 2022 by Kyra Irene All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or certain other noncommercial use permitted by copyright law. This is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical and current events, all names, characters, and events are product of the author's imagination. Book Cover Design and Formatting by Books and Moods Editing by Bryony Leah and Deborah OceanofPDF.com

For Mom and Dad, thank you for teaching me how to follow my dreams. OceanofPDF.com

CONTENT WARNING Your mental health is very important to me. If you find any of the following to be triggering, please put yourself first. Sexual assault, loss of a parent, death, murder, violence, and trauma. OceanofPDF.com

PLAYLIST You Know I’m No Good — Amy Winehouse You Don’t Own Me (feat. G-Eazy) — SAYGRACE Mount Everest — Labrinth Play with Fire (feat. Yacht Money) — Sam Tinnesz Power — Kanye West The Hills — The Weeknd Cinderella (feat. Ty Dolla $ign) — Mac Miller I Feel Like I’m Drowning — Two Feet Lion — Saint Mesa Peas — Boylife Work — Charlotte Day Wilson Dealer — Lana Del Ray I Was Never There — The Weeknd, Gesaffelstein Next To You — John Vincent III OceanofPDF.com

T 1 NINA wo years ago, I made a deal with the devil. The devil being my papa. In exchange for my years of freedom, I agreed to dedicate the rest of my life to becoming a prisoner to my own word. I signed the contract; I have to agree to any of my papa’s terms, no matter what it costs. As time passed, I forgot some of the rules he laid out for me. “I can’t believe you’re married,” I say as I fix my sister’s makeup. “I know. I’m just glad I was able to get to know him over the years,” she says. “It’s much better than having a random man waiting for me at the altar.” Her laugh is soft, coated in gratitude. Ana is a strong girl, but she would never do anything to try to piss off Papa. He never fails to remind us that we will marry whoever he wants us to. I can’t help but think he was planning their marriage for years. The Genovese family has been connected to ours for as long as I can remember. My sister and Carlo seemed like best friends growing up. When I was ten and they were riding their bikes outside, I stared out the window feeling like I was seeing something I shouldn’t: my sister’s first kiss. No one wants to see their sibling’s first kiss, especially when it’s their younger sibling and they’re having their first kiss before you.

Times have changed now; things aren’t as innocent as they used to be. Ana and Carlo may have clicked instantly, and I have no doubt Ana is happy, but I know it’s my father’s doing. It was a connection built on childhood fun that turned into expensive dresses and fine alcohol. I would’ve been fooled too, so I don’t blame her. I once overheard my father talking to a stranger about how the timeline worked out in his favor. Carlo’s dad passed two weeks before my sister turned eighteen. It was a marriage that had been in the making for years. “You’re right about that one. You lucked out with Carlo, Ana.” I turn around and place the makeup brush on the table. “He’s been great to you over the years, and I’m glad you’re happy.” “Good. Now, get out. I want to get ready for this dinner on my own. I’ll see you in a few.” I nod, taking a couple of steps toward the door. Her low chuckle fades as I close the door softly behind me. The sound of my heels echoes through the long hallway. Papa made our home a beautiful place for my sister to get married. The entire place is unbelievably stunning, decorations disguising everything that made the house look like the one I see every day. Inside, marble covers everything around me, swallowing me up. There are plants in vases, giving the room just enough color to brighten up the space. The house never has decorations, so this is a huge change. My mother likes to have nice things, but my father thinks the opposite. He hates the house looking cluttered. As I step outside, the wind waves the bottom of my dress in all directions. The warm air brushes against my skin. Noticing how many people are here, I take in a deep breath. Papa has a lot of friends, and our family is decently sized, but this has to be all Carlo’s side of the family. It was only ever Carlo, his parents, and his uncle who came to visit, but never the entire lineage. The resemblance is striking. They’re all Italian. Dark hair and sharp jaws. The women in the family all have long hair, their dresses allowing their curves to show. Everyone is sitting at the long table, staring me down. A lot of them don’t agree with the deal Papa gave me, but that’s none of their business. “Nina.”

I turn to my right and see my brother, Max, walking toward me. “Hey,” I say. “Put a smile on—people will notice,” he says, handing me a drink. It’s a mimosa, one of my favorite drinks besides classic red wine. “I do have a smile.” I try smiling from ear to ear, my cynical actions frustrating him in the way only sisters can. “Choose a different one. You look fake.” “Jesus.” I let out a laugh. Max is the kind of man whose words could kill, but his intentions are in the right place. It’s not only his words that could kill, but his expressions too. The only reason I’m able to make jokes with him is because we grew up together. If we’d only just met, I would be deeply offended by his words, and his glares. “Try not to piss off Papa today, all right?” Max is the first child. The favorite child. The golden child, as some would say. Parents shouldn’t have favorites, but mine do. He is the one who will carry the family name. He hasn’t yet, which is a shocker, but he will one day if he gets his priorities right. He used to be a happy person, but the light in him died one night– I wish I knew what happened. “I won’t.” I mean that. It’s my sister’s day, and I don’t want to ruin it for her. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who defies Papa’s rules. It’s not that I want to. Well, I kind of do. The deal I made with him has given me a sense of freedom. The moment he begins to talk about what the future for me will be like, I shut down. I plan to live this last month to my full potential. It’s a lot of fun seeing him on edge. He never wanted to agree to the deal, but something my mama said made him. Ever since the ink of his pen signed the paper on my eighteenth birthday, it’s like he can’t stand to look at me. It’s upsetting, but I understand. He is always business. In his mind he needs to send me off to a man as soon as possible so that there’s less of a threat to our family. He doesn’t care who I end up with. As long as I give my future husband a son, Papa won’t complain. He loves us—but we come second. Which is bullshit, in my opinion. The life I was born into is bullshit in general.

“I’ll see you at the table?” I ask my brother as I slowly start to walk away. “Soon.” Before I plant myself on a seat at a table full of psycho men, I need another drink. Papa did not waste a penny on any of the decorations—even the bar has crystal flowers lining the counter. It’s extraordinary. This is how I would want my wedding to be. But I will never give in to Papa’s tactics. I told him I will marry the man I fall in love with, no exceptions. As I think back on that day, I can’t help but laugh at my own stupidity. In what world could a weak daughter convince her father that she will do what she wants? I had some kind of guardian angel hovering above me that day when my mama stepped into the middle of our argument. She somehow convinced him that my deal was a good one. Something along the lines of: “Wait two more years until she evolves into the woman she should be.” Her words hurt at the time, but knowing my mama’s pure heart and intentions, I know she only said those things to try to win him around. My birthday is in a month. My twentieth birthday. I’m holding off going to the table full of my family, and my now extended family, because I know what they’ll talk about. I’m not ready. “Green tea shot,” I tell the bartender as his eyes lift slowly to mine. His hair is a messy blond, and his eyes are bright blue. His lips curve into a smile—one so subtle I almost miss it. “Already a rough day?” To say the least. “Yes, what gave that up?” “I hear things, that’s all.” Even the freaking bartender hears about me. Being given away to a random man like a piece of candy is inevitable at this point. I take a seat on the stool next to the bar, my hands cupping my face as my elbows hold me up. It’s been a good run. In a weak attempt to clear my mind, I take the shot off the counter and walk over to the table full of dense laughter. “Nina, darling,” my father shouts across the table, overpowering the loud laughter flooding over the fresh food.

He calls me darling now. I used to be love. I used to be his sweet and innocent daughter who wanted nothing more than to make him happy. To make him proud to be my father. For eighteen years, I did nothing but try to prove myself. Even in those long years, I still have no idea what I was trying to prove to him. That I have priorities? That I can be a good big sister? That I do my chores even though he pays someone thousands to do them anyway? Dozens of heads spin toward me as I pull out a chair. I’m on the edge of the table. No one is sitting by me yet. After the introductions, it goes dead silent. So many people told me their names, but I’m embarrassed to say I can’t remember a single one. Cheers, Nina. You dumbass. I take the shot, leaning my head back, feeling the alcohol scorch my throat. Carlo and a man behind him start walking toward us. The man behind him holds something strong in his walk. The way his suit clings to his body, revealing his definition but fitting him perfectly. I tilt my head trying to look at him more. He looks familiar. “Nina, my love,” Carlo says, planting a kiss on my cheek. His hands grip my shoulders. “I trust that your sister will be joining us shortly?” “Yes,” I say, trying to relax my breathing as his grip loosens. Carlo is a great man, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t frighten me. I know what every single man at this table does in their free time, and I don’t want a freaking thing to do with it. “Good.” His hands leave my shoulders. I lift my head to look at him, but he’s eyeing the man who came with him. “Siediti con lei.” It takes me a moment to recognize him. It’s Giovanni, Carlo’s cousin. The last time I saw him was for Christmas three years ago. He looks at me and then back to Carlo with a slight nod. His eyes are back on mine, and he looks at me as if I’m the dog crap he had to scrape off his thousand-dollar oxfords. Some things never change, no matter how much time has passed. He practically grew up here. His father is in Sicily, and his mother passed years ago. My mother and his were like best friends, so it’s no shocker that he spent as much time here as he did.

Our eye contact lasts for a long minute before he casually sits right in front of me. I take in a deep breath. I am going to need way more shots to make it through a dinner with him sitting in front of me with an expression as blank as a sheet of paper. He’s changed a lot since the last time I saw him. Is it possible that a grown man can grow even more? I can’t tell if he’s taller or if his arms have doubled in size. Hell, maybe both. Small dark curls hover over his forehead. My palms begin to sweat as he doesn’t look away from me. I’m not backing down either. What the hell is this about? I’m never one to get nervous around people, but I have always been nervous around him. He is known as the man with a temper. And if you mess with his temper, he messes with his trigger. He has always been like this. I will never forget the day I learned to keep my distance from him. Being a young child wanting to play a simple board game and walking up to Giovanni, the one person in the house who happened to be home. He told me that I needed to “grow the fuck up.” Even though I’m familiar with him, we’ve hardly exchanged any words. When he isn’t demanding things from me and watching over me, he’s silent. Come to think of it, the most he has ever said to me that wasn’t condescending was “pass the potatoes.” Every time he is in the same room as me, his eyes never fail to find mine, roaming over my body, taking in every look he can get. His head tilts slightly down, and he lets out a heavy breath. He finally takes his dark eyes off me and calls for Carlo. “Quanto temo ancora?” His voice is deep and intimidating, sending chills down my body. A deep voice masked with purpose. “Does it matter?” Carlo snaps back to him. “Lo fa se è lei.” Giovanni gets up and walks away. I’m not sure if I did something to offend him or if Carlo pissed him off. I can’t understand a word they are saying. They’re speaking Italian for a reason. They don’t seem to want me to know what they’re talking about. That can only mean one thing: they are talking about me. Treating me like an idiot because I can’t speak their language.

My mama would have been able to make this day amazing for everyone invited, not only the bride and groom. She would have filled the silence with awkward conversation about how she can make the best pierogis. She can—hers are the best I’ve ever had. She always adds just the right amount of filling, not too much and not too little. But her time overseas was too important. “Nina, your day is coming soon,” Papa says, all too loudly. Yes, I know. “Thank you for that,” I say. “Cut the attitude. Not today.” My smug smile slowly turns into a frown. “I’m sorry,” I lie. “Who did you have in mind?” I try to sound interested, but me trying can only go so far. “Kirill.” He puts a hand on Kirill’s back. My eyes widen. There is no way in hell I will be doing anything with that man. “Papa!” I yell. I have no filter anymore; the man might not be sixty years old, but he sure as hell looks like it. Kirill looks deeply offended, but I don’t care. “I will not,” I say. “Enough,” he shouts back at me with rage filling his eyes. “Need I remind you?” His glare tells me far too much. He just doesn’t understand. But with how this family works, he will never understand. I have a month left to show the fight in me. That was part of the deal. OceanofPDF.com

M 2 NINA y sister walks over to the table full of our joined families. She’s changed out of her wedding dress and is now wearing a shorter white dress that curves around her hips, leaving nothing to any man’s imagination. I’m sure Carlo won’t be too happy about her choice in style. Giovanni and Carlo walk back over to the table after they see Ana make her entrance. I sometimes make Carlo out to be a bad guy, but in this instance he isn’t. The way he looks at my sister like she’s the rarest diamond ever found on earth. I can see it in his eyes—they focus deeply on hers, leaving me jealous of their love. My sister fell in love with a guy and married him with our papa’s permission. Lucky that she was able to grow up with him. Years of family holidays spent together, helping the bond form between them. Even more lucky considering he is one of the leads in the Genovese family. Carlo may not have the Genovese last name, but he carries their power. He walks over to her and opens his arms as she falls into them, embracing every ounce of love he has to offer. I shut my eyes, trying not to cry. I am so happy for her, but seeing her in his arms just reminds me it’s something I will never have. I’ll be lucky if my soon-to-be husband dies in the next five years due to his old age. Kirill sits near my papa on the other side of the table, not taking a single look at me, or anyone besides my father. By the looks of it, he is intimidated by him. My papa hasn’t signed the marriage contract yet—at

least, not that I know of. Hopefully, Papa will let me talk to him before he signs any papers. Kirill places a cigar between his lips as he chuckles at everything my papa says, even the things that aren’t funny. He is just embarrassing himself by laughing. Giovanni finds a seat in front of me and places his arm around the chair next to him. “Where’s that blonde bimbo of yours?” I ask, knowing they’re not together anymore. Even though I haven’t seen him in a while, it doesn’t mean people don’t talk about him like he’s God. That girl he was with tried to steal a lot of his money last week. It was the only topic of discussion at home. “I can’t believe she did that!” “He almost killed her.” “Where is she at now?” I became bored of the topic, until now. Curiosity fills me. So does envy. “Not here,” he says with boredom all over his face. Why would anyone ever want to be on the wrong side of Giovanni? He has everything going for him. I try to piece together why he never dates anyone exclusively. I think he is twenty-seven. He should be settling down and building his empire, but from what I’ve heard, his father is still hanging on. “I can see that.” I take the glass of red wine off the table; it was nearly full, and now it’s empty. Giovanni crosses his arms and runs his tongue over his teeth. His stare stings my body as if he put a burned cigarette on my skin and held it there until it sizzled. I raise my hand, kindly asking the waitress to fill my glass. She leans over me to grab the drink I just finished and pours more red wine. I hold Giovanni’s stare and bring the glass to my lips again. He leans over the table and takes the drink from me. “Enough,” he says, throwing the glass behind him, shattering it on the patio. Everyone directs their attention to us, giving me even more attention I don’t want. My fists clench under the table. Does this man think he can control everything I do? He has been doing this for years. I’m getting tired of men telling me what to do, but I can’t do much about it because of the power they hold. My voice is all I have, and even that can cause consequences.

He finally breaks the stare down and rubs his hand across his mouth. I tilt my head toward him, giving him a half-assed smile. I don’t know why he held his eyes on mine for so long, or why I allowed it. So many people around us whisper to one another, curiosity flooding their minds. My papa clears his throat and fixes his black suit. “Nina,” he says. I can’t tell if he is frustrated with me or not. Truth is, I never drink this much. But a lot has happened today, and my hopes are to not remember this night. If anything, he should be pissed at Giovanni—I didn’t even do anything. “Yes, Papa?” I let out an overdue sigh, not breaking eye contact with Giovanni. “Excuse yourself.” Don’t mind if I do. I nod and push my chair back with my legs. As I begin to stand up, I notice a red spot on Giovanni’s white shirt. A spot I know all too well and have seen far too many times with this family. Blood. Of course he has blood on his shirt—what else did I expect? Is that why he seems different now compared to the other times I’ve seen him? He took someone’s life before coming to the joining of our families. It wouldn’t be a traditional wedding in my family if someone didn’t die. The kitchen is empty as I walk in, muffled laughter coming from outside. The lights above the island are dimmed, leaving the kitchen hard to navigate for someone as drunk as I am. “Strawberries?” an all too familiar voice says, and my head whips around to the living room. “Oh mon Dieu, maman!” I rush toward my mama as she drops her bags and nearly cries when she sees me. Her hair has changed—it’s much darker now. The dense blackness in her hair brings out the hazel in her eyes. She still dresses the same, only to impress. Her pantsuit is pure white, the color only the bride should be wearing.

Classic Mama. “Oh, how I have missed you.” She kisses both my cheeks. I’ve missed her much more than she’s missed me. She’s been gone for nearly an entire year. I spoke with her this morning on the phone. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to make it in time to see the families merge. She might have missed the entire day, but she made it nonetheless. “How was Paris?” I ask while walking back over to the fridge. Strawberries and chocolate have been our comfort food for years. Whatever the occasion—a period, a sad movie, a bad fight with Papa—we always eat strawberries. “Oh, you know. Magnifique.” She takes her coat off and sits on the stool as she watches me melt the chocolate in a pot. “You have changed, my love.” My brow furrows. “In what way?” My mama is by far the most amazing woman I have ever met, but she has a loose tongue. No filter whatsoever. That’s why she gets into so many fights with Papa. “Your boobs grew.” “Goodness!” My eyes could have fallen out of their sockets. “What! It’s true. Any man would be lucky to have you, my darling.” I frown instantly. The man who is so lucky to have me is as old as dirt. And he only wants one thing from me. “Yeah. Papa made sure I won’t be lucky enough to have a good man.” As I dip the fresh strawberries into the chocolate and place them on a plate, she lets out a scoff. “Please tell me it isn’t Kirill.” Her eyes roll. “I spoke with your father about that. Let’s hope he isn’t as stupide as I think he is.” Her hands fling in the air, casting a far too dramatic stance, even for her. “Stupide,” I say back to her. “My God.” She gets off the kitchen stool and walks over to me. Mama is the only person besides my sister who hugs me anymore. I didn’t know how much I missed the feeling of another person holding onto me until now. “I will talk to that man, don’t you worry.” She holds my face and kisses my forehead. I want to laugh at her response because I know she can’t do anything to help the situation. I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. “Go watch that show you love so much.”

“Mama, it’s been my favorite for years and you still can’t remember the name?” I let out a sigh disguised as a laugh. “Je sais cela. Amis,” she mouths, trying to say the word in English. “Friends.” Her finger points at me. “Yes!” She holds her mouth, laughing. “Now go cheer up. Let me eat these strawberries by myself.” “As if you had a day worse than mine?” “Maybe not, but these strawberries will ruin your curves.” My eyes narrow. “If anything, they will help my curves.” “Exactly, and that will ruin you. You give the men too much to look at.” I laugh and place my hand on her shoulders, a small gesture to show how much I appreciate her for even wanting to attempt talking to Papa about who I will marry. I step aside, my hand falling off her as I walk toward the stairs that lead to my bedroom. Just the simple sound of my mother’s voice makes me feel so much better—but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m meant to marry that old man eventually. God, what has my life come to? Old men, strawberries, and television—that’s what. OceanofPDF.com

I 3 NINA ’ve been watching the screen mindlessly for hours. My mind keeps racing back to what my life will be like in the upcoming weeks. Once he has me in his bed, there won’t be much to my life anymore. I will just become the woman viewed as a gold digger and impregnated by the hellion himself. I would rather kick the bucket than let that happen. I need to talk to my brother—he is the only person who would want to help me with my situation. He is the only person who will ever be able to help me. My bedroom door creaks open, and light from the hallway floods my dark room. “Nina?” My sister walks in, her body becoming a silhouette. “Yeah, I’m still awake,” I tell her as she climbs into bed with me. She always hogged the blanket when we were younger, but things have changed now. She hasn’t. She still takes the majority of the blanket, but now I have a huge bed. The light from the screen brightens her face. “You’re a tomato, Ana.” She pulls the duvet over her face, trying to hide her flushed cheeks. “Nina, it was amazing!” She’s hardly able to contain her excitement. “I’m so glad to hear it.” I try to hide how envious I am. My younger sister was able to marry before me by the good grace of my father. She was able to have her first time with the man she is in love with—and I will have mine with a man who probably can’t even get it up anymore. God, that is freaking embarrassing. I can’t even blame anyone but myself. I signed myself up for this. Literally.

Her dyed blonde hair relaxes in a bun on top of her head, stray hairs frizzed. “I heard about Kirill.” Her face creases with embarrassment for me. “I’m really sorry.” I sigh and throw my arms up from under the covers. “It’s not like much can be done now.” I let out a sad laugh. “Well, you could get Giovanni to kill him.” My expression shifts as I stare at her, trying to figure out if she’s making a ridiculous joke. She is serious. “I don’t want murder on my hands, Ana.” My sweet, stupid sister doesn’t know what’s good for her. “Giovanni would do it—he wouldn’t even blink. You’ve heard of the things he does, right?” I slouch further into my bed, trying to disappear from this conversation. Based on the experiences Giovanni and I share, I know for a fact he wouldn’t blink. One time, Papa made us go pick up cigars for him, and the clerk complimented my blouse. Giovanni pulled my arm back and told me to wait in the car. Every other time I’ve been there with my brother to pick up more for our papa, I haven’t seen the man once. So, yes, Ana. I know exactly what he does. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I say. I could use the one attached to my room, but the one down the hall has a better shower. I walk to my closet, pulling out clean clothes to change into. I need to wash away the sickening feeling overwhelming me. As I walk down the long hallway and turn to go into the bathroom, my body gets slammed against the wall. The back of my head feels like it’s been smashed with a baseball bat. I open my eyes. Kirill. “Stop it!” I shout before his hand covers my mouth, muffling any sound I could make next. “Stop being disobedient,” he whispers in my ear. He lifts my dress, grabbing my thigh hard, pinching my skin between his fingers. “You are promised to me already. Let me teach you how this is going to work.” I drop my clothes as I try to push away from him, but his grip is too strong. I force my head away from his as far as I can, but his hands hold me still.

“You live to please me. You live to give me children. And lastly, you live to do as you’re fucking told.” I bite down on his hand, drawing blood and a chunk of his skin. The taste of metal fills my mouth, as does the taste of my own fear. My fight-or-flight kicks in even more as I knee him in the groin. I live to what? Hell no. Fuck off. My hair falls over my face as I stumble forward. “Get the fuck off me! Jesus Christ!” My breath feels tense. I try to take in more air, but I’m still winded from how he slammed me against the wall. “Let me teach you how this is going to work. You lay one fucking finger on me, and I will cut it off in your sleep, got it?” The wine and food I ate today rise up in my throat, begging to be released. I never get angry. I tend to be dramatic—but never angry. I spit on him as he falls onto the other side of the wall, grabbing the thing I just hit. What an asshole. “You don’t fuck with a Romano, Kirill,” I say. He reaches into his pocket. The only time a man reaches into his pocket in a situation such as this is to pull out a weapon. I’m sure no woman has ever threatened him before, fearful of what his reaction would be to their harsh words and empty threats. Before I have any time to connect my body’s reaction to my senseless thoughts, a man steps in front of me, blocking the view and pushing me back against the wall. His height has nearly half a foot on me. Startled, the only thing I can do is look at his back. The neck of his suit has the symbol of a spade embedded in it. Genovese. Giovanni Genovese is the only man who wears his suits with that embroidery on it. His hand finds mine as he clicks his gun and steps toward the man who attempted to touch me. I feel worthless. Like a bag of rice that was sold to a man like Kirill. What the hell was Papa thinking? “Wrong girl,” Giovanni says, kneeling down to the coward. Instead of shooting him, he kicks his face into the wall. He backs up, looking at me. I don’t realize how shocked I must look until he whispers, “It’s fine.” “I handled that fine. I didn’t need your help.”

He ignores me, bringing his attention back to Kirill, who is currently spitting blood, sounding like he’s choking on his own mistakes. “And your intentions with the girl?” Giovanni asks with a voice too calm and collected for this situation. His voice could make men piss themselves. Based on the stories I’ve heard, I think he actually enjoys hurting men. His hand runs through the black curls on his head, veins popping out of his skin. “Just wanted to talk to her,” Kirill lies. Giovanni holds the gun right between his eyes. “A rapist and a liar?” He lets out a sarcastic laugh. Shaking his head, he pulls three bullets from his gun. “Say, to celebrate this wedding, let’s play some Russian roulette, huh?” “No.” The old man is nearly pleading for his life now. I want to laugh at the irony. “This will be so fucking fun,” Giovanni says. I don’t know what to do in this situation. I want the man to bleed for what he attempted, but I don’t want my family at war. Shivers run through my entire body. I don’t even know what to think. Giovanni is my family now, as much as I don’t want to admit it. Carlo Ricci inherited his father’s rule. The third most powerful family from Sicily, with the Genovese being the most powerful. In this moment I can’t think of anything else to be thankful for. I always hated what they do, but I need it now. I know I’m able to handle myself, but no one would believe me if I told them what happened. I need Giovanni’s protection, and if there is anyone I trust to take care of this, it’s my brother Max and the man standing between me and the man who bruised my thigh. I grab onto Giovanni’s shoulder, trying to pull him back, but my strength compared to his is pathetic. As if I’m a car trying to tow a semi. Weak, just weak. “Nina, don’t.” He shrugs me off like a fly that’s bothering him. The gun clicks as Kirill flinches. Giovanni only took three bullets out of the chamber. My bet is the next one that clicks will end the man’s life. I slam my eyes shut, an attempt to shut out what is bound to happen right in front of me, on my sister’s wedding day.

If Giovanni kills him, the entire family will wake up, and my papa will be unbelievably livid. “Smettila,” a voice says. Carlo. I look back down, and Giovanni doesn’t listen as he reloads the gun. “Nina, leave at once.” Carlo grabs my hand, pushing me in the opposite direction. My walk is staggered as I try to make my way back to my room. This is why I want nothing to do with my family. This is why I asked for those years of freedom. My cheeks flush, sending heat through my entire body as I realize I don’t have much time left in my little bubble of the normal life I tried so hard to give myself. I don’t even remember falling asleep last night. So much happened it’s hard to find a single thing that went right yesterday. I lift my head off the pillow and notice my sister isn’t here anymore. I have no idea when she decided to leave. I asked her to stay with me, but I didn’t tell her what happened. I don’t need her to worry for me. Either way, Carlo probably told her by now. The sunlight breaks through the curtains, forcing me to finally wake up completely. I can’t tell if it was the light that woke me or the loud arguing coming from downstairs. Nothing in this house can stay private if words are spoken downstairs— the rooms are covered in marble from floor to ceiling. I throw off the covers and stumble out of bed. My inner thighs are bruised from the grip Kirill had on me last night. Walking over to my closet, I pull out a sweater and a pair of leggings to cover up what happened. I pause, staring at myself in the mirror. The entire family probably knows what happened by now. And my fidelity is most likely in question. They all think I’m a virgin, and I’d like to keep it that way. Everything I did these past two years was for me, and only me. Papa would marry me off to a man worse than Kirill if he knew I wasn’t “pure.”

Papa never fails to tell everyone how careless I am, walking around with my head in the clouds all the time. I shake my head, trying to get those thoughts out of my mind. If I assume the worst, I won’t be disappointed. Papa will make me marry Kirill, and everyone will think I’m a whore. I walk down the stairs slowly, feeling my heart pound in my ears. The pressure building inside my head is about to burst—or give me the world’s worst migraine. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see my sister trying to listen in on the conversation in Papa’s office. I grab Ana’s arm, and she nearly jumps a foot in the air. “Shh!” “Nina, are you all right? Oh my goodness, I can’t believe what happened.” Yeah, so either Carlo told her after it happened, or she heard it from the many men inside the room next to us. “I’m fine.” I frown instantly when I hear my brother’s voice. “You’re sick, Papa. I’ll kill the man before you force her into this marriage.” “He didn’t succeed, Max. There is nothing I can do. The contract states that if she remains untouched, the wedding will continue.” I flinch at Papa’s words. They hurt more than I care to admit. He doesn’t care who he gives his daughter to. He only cares about the contract, and how it will benefit him. A loud slam echoes through the hall as my brother barges through the door. He walks past me and Ana with confusion. A look from Max says it all. The look says, “How much have you heard?” and, “What the fuck are you doing here?” He’s been the father figure ever since I had my first boyfriend. I grew up only having my brother to protect me. “Nina,” Max says, holding both my shoulders. “Come with me.” I’m sure Max will update me on everything that was said—or he’ll choose to keep it from me because he knows it could do more harm than good. “Ana, go find something else to do.” He turns and walks toward the front door, dragging me with him.

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I 4 GIOVANNI can’t lie, she is hard to look at. Every look at her, and she tempts me. I thought I got rid of my obsession when I left for a couple of years. She was a woman when I left, but she is even more of one now. I spent years watching her turn into who she is today, but something is different. She’s feisty now. She needs to be. Her father plans on marrying her off to some random asshole. When Max slammed the doors open and stormed out, his father’s demeanor shifted. Kirill threatens my family, and I can’t have that shit. He threatens her. I don’t normally let men who rape women breathe afterward. The son of a bitch is lucky Carlo came by and stopped me. He didn’t walk off without any consequences though. If the maids haven’t cleaned the hallway yet, his ear might still be lying on the floor. I did it as a warning. If the man’s smart, he’ll back out of this marriage. I swirl my whiskey around and take a couple of sips. I’ll give it to Nina, she stood up for herself. If it weren’t for her loud voice, I never would have rushed up there in the first place. The alcohol scorches my throat before I unleash hell on the man sitting in front of me, not a worry in the world. Rolando Romano—apparently one of the strongest men to form an alliance with in Italy. I beg to differ. He doesn’t have much going for him, if I’m being honest. My family views fathers negatively when they hand over their daughters to random

men. Not something usual for our way of life, but I sort of admire that. We are different when it comes to family. I can’t think of a single way Kirill would benefit Nina. He only benefits her father, Rolando. Not a damn thing in it for Nina. “Let’s get this going. I have places to be,” I say while I fix my collar. I need to fly back to Sicily and deal with my father’s mess. He never should have given those pricks the money. It seemed like a good business deal at first, but if he had any brains at all, he would have realized it was a mistake. Because of Rolando’s idiotic motives, I am the one who has to go and sort this shit out. This conversation runs in circles, to the point where I keep tuning them out, hardly retaining a damn thing. What kind of a father does this man think he is? Kirill attempted to rape his daughter, and he doesn’t even blink at the incident. “You’re an embarrassment of a man, Rolando.” Carlo’s head snaps back at mine as if his eyes could shoot me. I wave my hand at him. Does he really think I give two shits about this man? “Giovanni, a moment in private?” my cousin asks, but it sounds more like a demand. I don’t listen to demands; I make them. I think I’ve built some tension in this room, finally. What does it take to knock some sense into a man? “Later.” I shake my head. “Giovanni.” Carlo’s eyes scream business. That alone grabs my attention. We walk over to the door Max stormed out of earlier. As I close it behind me, I hear Nina arguing with her brother in the entrance of the house. With her high-pitched voice roaring through my ears, my fingers curl into a fist. “You know that”—Carlo points to the door while taking a cigar out of his pocket—“can’t happen, right?” “And why not?” I take the cigar from his hand. Normally, I refrain from smoking, but with Nina being so fucking helpless, this is how I’m dealing with it. Maybe not completely helpless, but she never would have been able to get out of the situation without my help.

I was almost eight years old when I held her in my arms for the first time. She was a tiny thing. Every small breath she took sounded like it was a chore to inhale. She was fragile. Even as young as I was, I was able to understand the meaning behind my feelings. Nothing would hurt her, not if I had a say in it. I visited often with my father. To this day I think it was just an excuse to fill the void of our empty family. Sure, I have a shit ton of cousins, but the void that needed filling was the space a mother should have. Nina’s mother had that effect on me. Every holiday I felt the love in their household. Whether Rolando has good intentions or not, he loves his family. That’s why I’m having the hardest time wrapping my mind around this new marriage. Carlo doesn’t want Nina to marry Kirill for some reason besides the obvious. Before he even tried anything last night, I already knew the guy was a pig. But there is something Carlo knows that he isn’t telling me, and I fucking hate it. I don’t even understand why Kirill was at the wedding. Why is Rolando trying to have an alliance with the Russians again? That ship sailed years ago. My muscles tighten, aching at the thought that if I hadn’t heard her, he would have had his way with her. Seeing all of her body, claiming her as his. I clench my teeth at the odd reaction my body just made. The careless girl drives me fucking crazy, even after all these years. I bring my eyes back to Carlo as soon as I realize I tuned him out. “Why can’t she marry Kirill, again?” I don’t want her with him, but I need to know his reason. My job, I take it very seriously. “If Rolando does this, the Stepanovs will gain appreciation from many. I don’t want his name anywhere near this family. You understand, I know you do. Nina can’t marry him. You know how the Stepanovs work, don’t you?” “I do. But you do realize both Ana and Nina will be marrying into different families either way, right? Ana already married you.” “Yes. But Nina cannot marry into Kirill’s family. That’ll set us up for failure. My marriage brought two strong families together. The Stepanovs are clumsy and careless, and I don’t want to deal with that shit.”

Does he even know what he’s talking about right now? I understand that the Romanos are a strong family, but they are clumsy as well. I have no idea why Carlo wanted to form a marriage with a Romano; they don’t do well with our business. They don’t give two shits about where their crime goes, and I for one don’t like the feds with their noses in my deals. “What do you want me to do about it?” “Protect Nina.” My jaw tightens so hard that if I press down any further it could break. I had three years to back off her. She got to the age where I became overbearing and annoying, so I left. That’s not the whole truth. I left because I started having feelings for her. If I stay, those feelings will only come back. They never left in the first place, but I was able to suppress them. “Are you really asking me to do something like that right now?” I ask as if I don’t already know the answer. In truth, I would have done it anyway. The girl has looks that have everyone breaking their necks. I’ve been watching over her ass over the years; I know more about her than anyone else does, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. She tries to hide what I do to her. I know she feels something for me. When I look at her, her eyes dart to the ground as if looking into my eyes will confess what she has been meaning to tell me for so long. She never will though. She is way too stubborn. I shift my attention back onto Carlo. Watching over Nina isn’t the problem. The problem is him asking me to get in the middle of Rolando’s deals. It’s a two-way street: I don’t want anyone in my business, so I stay out of theirs. “You have to.” Fuck. There isn’t any way to get out of this, even if I wanted to. “Just try to make a deal with Rolando. Make him understand that Nina will be marrying the wrong person.” “Oh, sure. Not a problem.” I knock him over the head. “How the fuck do you expect me to do that, idiota?” The Stepanovs have a really good business smuggling drugs, something I stay the fuck clear of. If Nina marries him, it will push Rolando’s deals up. It could be a marriage built on gaining money and losing respect.

He grabs his forehead and rubs the blood off. “It will benefit you as well. In the long run.” I laugh at his response. Not just a little chuckle either—I full-on laugh. There is no doubt his head is up his ass. Does he really think I give a shit what’s in it for me? Carlo has always been a people pleaser. Every goddamn minute of each day, specifically toward Rolando. I can’t remember when Carlo found out he was meant to marry Ana, but ever since then, he just follows the orders of Rolando without a second thought. That’s where I come into play. I couldn’t care less about what he wants as long as it doesn’t threaten me in any way. “Just do it. And do more than protect Nina. You know what you have to do.” He walks back into the office. I don’t follow him; I’m more interested in what Max is telling Nina over there. The last person I should be pissed at is Max. He’s helping his sister, but I need to be the person to help her. I look back at the office, contemplating if I should go in there and follow through with my business, or if I should do it when I get back from dealing with my father. Do I even need to complain? Killing a man is an easy task, but if Carlo wants the girls’ papa on my side after I do what he’s asking of me, he is just stupid. I’ll be declaring a war between these families when I already have other shit to deal with. Every man will come for her. Fuck. I should have gone to talk to Nina and her brother. This conversation is continuing to make me lose brain cells. The air in the room is clouded with fog from each man’s cigar. Carlo, who is sitting to the right of me, keeps having to straighten his posture. It’s almost as if he’s trying to hold back and contain himself. My cousin and I are similar in many ways, but different in how we handle our business. He would rather talk it out and threaten them before he

acts on his word. I, on the other hand, would rather just blow their brains out and get on with my day. “I don’t understand how this woman is becoming a problem for us,” Kirill’s second man says like he has a choice in the matter. “She will marry Kirill Stepanov. That’s the end of the story.” “Not quite,” I state as all three men exchange glances with one another. “Kirill couldn’t even do us the courtesy of coming here today to share his side of the story. Rolando, you sure you want your precious daughter marrying a coward?” I can tell my words threaten him, which is hilarious. He knows I am right; he knows he shouldn’t have Nina marry him. “May I ask,” I say, pushing myself off the couch I was relaxing on, “are you making Nina marry the man to solve your ill . . . manners?” I took the risk, and I’m immediately rewarded. His lips press into a fine line, almost disappearing. A clenched jaw tells me everything I need to know. Did he commit a crime against the Stepanov family? Is that what all this is about? For the life of me, I can’t connect the dots between the Stepanovs and the Romanos. I’ve spent the past hour wondering how they even came into contact. Maybe Rolando believes sending them his prized possession will get him out of the hole he dug himself. The only reason he agreed to Nina’s deal was because he was waiting for the perfect opportunity. Sure, he could find a reasonable man for her, but that wouldn’t benefit him as much as making a deal through the marriage. I’m not sure what the deal is, but I will be figuring it out. It involves Nina, so it involves me now. What is it about men feeling like they carry all the power in the world? They think their actions carry no consequences. “We will not speak of the matter, Giovanni,” he says, gripping the sides of his desk. I pushed a button, and I’m glad I did. Maybe my cousin will finally be able to get it through his head that he married into the wrong family. Rolando will never stop using his family as payment. “But we will,” I say as I stand up. “Here’s the plan. Every Stepanov will return to Russia, out of my sight, otherwise I will continue to get involved.” I walk over to the corner of the room and refill my glass with a shot of liquor. I hear each voice fill with anger as I interrupt them every time they

try to say something. “You will assign someone to watch over your daughter. She will make her appearances at our gatherings as planned.” The alcohol is warming, burning my throat. “I will hold off on my duties in Sicily to make sure you uphold this . . . deal.” I turn to look at them. They all seem frustrated. Carlo’s on edge, but I think he appreciates my attempt to get Rolando’s head out of his ass. “Sound good?” “That’s fine,” Rolando says. My eyebrows raise in shock. I knew I would be able to get my word in, but I didn’t think I would be leaving this room without putting a bullet in Kirill’s second man’s head. “Stepanovs leave. Or I promise I will get more involved,” I say, heading toward the door. A win for me. OceanofPDF.com

T 5 NINA he entire day passes by me quickly. After the conversation I had with my brother, I feel discouraged to do anything. He is taking me to the doctor’s tomorrow to get on the pill. He told me there isn’t much he can do about stopping the marriage, but he can help me in this case. If anyone finds out I’m on birth control, I could lose my head. Normally, other people wouldn’t have to worry about things like this. The awareness of my new life sinking in makes me ache. The life I spent nearly two years creating is crumbling uncontrollably. “Nina, get off the couch! You’ve been wasting there all day,” my mama yells at me from the kitchen. I direct my attention toward her and let a groan escape my lips. Even though she is in the kitchen cooking something for dinner, I can still see her perfectly. The house is open concept—Papa built it just for her. They may argue a lot, but she always gets her way with him. He was all for building this house in New York because of how well clubs do here in the city. I didn’t find out that reason until a couple of years ago. Mama has always been the one who cares for her daughters too much. I was born in Italy, as was my sister. I lived there until I turned five. Papa brought too many men into the house, which made my mother mad. She never wanted my sister or me to grow up with Papa’s work surrounding the house—quite literally. There used to be many men keeping guard with huge guns. One drive by our house and one would think it was a prison. In a normal family, Mama would be the classic housewife, taking care of every chore, caring for her children, and putting food on the table while

her husband complains about his job. But in the life I live, many of my papa’s men do not like Mama. She would take us to Paris regularly for years on end, making sure we learned a language other than Italian. That way we would never be involved in Papa’s dirty work. That didn’t age well. I’m not involved in his work; I was thrown into it. I toss the throw blanket off my legs and walk toward the kitchen. Mama has an apron on, and her hair is in a knot on top of her head. Cooking is the only time anyone will see her not in her best outfit. Her face is covered in flour as she moves back and forth from the stove to the counter. “I’m leaving next week, if you’d like to come with me,” she says, looking at me as I sit on the stool. The stove is right in front of me, connected to the island. Whatever she is cooking is popping oil all over the place. I scoot back a little as she lets out a laugh. “It won’t hurt you.” “I beg to differ, Mama. That is boiling!” I try swatting the burning steam away from my eyes. “I can’t go with you to Paris.” She lets out a strong scoff. “And why not?” I’m about to speak, but I get interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps entering the room. “Giovanni! I didn’t know you were here still.” Mama throws her arms around him. A small smile forms on his lips. The only woman I have ever seen him smile genuinely at. Mama has always had a soft spot for him. She used to tell me stories about how her and his mother would spend days on end together before me and my sister were born. She’s the one who planned his baby shower. It’s crazy to think he has been connected to my family for years. “Just wanted to stop by and see what was burning.” He laughs as she swats him in the arm. If any other person were to hit him like that, they would lose an ear just like Kirill did last night. Max told me that earlier— that the jerk got what he deserved. “It does not burn. Not my kitchen,” Mama says with her broken English. “Stay and share a meal with us!”

“I can’t stay for long. I have calls to make.” Giovanni takes a seat right next to me. “Nina.” He tucks my hair behind my ears. I look down instantly. His touch sets my skin on fire yet makes me feel cold, making me shiver. “Just stay the night,” Mama insists while taking a container of lemonade out of the fridge. I look up at her. No, he cannot spend the night. I quickly untuck my hair, trying to take his touch off my skin. He looks back at me and narrows his eyes. “I may take you up on that, Miliana.” He addresses my mama with her first name. No one does that anymore. “Parfaite!” Excitement fills her voice. I roll my eyes at Giovanni. He acts all tough, but I know he has a soft heart—under all the dark, that is. “Nina, take over. I will be back soon. I have to make some changes for our supper.” Mama’s legs carry her as if she is walking on a runway. Her head turns back in mine and Giovanni’s direction. “Just start the soupe à l’oignon.” I don’t respond to her demand; I just oblige. Once she leaves the kitchen, I take a cup out of the cabinet and pour myself some juice. After a couple of sips, I place it on the counter. Giovanni picks it up almost immediately after my fingers leave the glass, his lips touching the same part of the cup as mine. I turn to face away from him as I feel my face heating up. I don’t know why something so simple made my heart flutter. The only thing attractive about this man is the way he carries himself. He’s confident, but not in the way that looks cocky. And his hair. The way the dark curls curve around his face, bringing out his tanned complexion—smooth without a single wrinkle on his face. Does this man get Botox or something? Holy shit. I force my eyes shut, trying to get those thoughts out of my mind. He kills people, Nina. And he enjoys it. He has slept with too many women—far too many to count. I take the pot off the marble counter and bring it to the sink, filling it with water to start the soupe à l’oignon. “You can cook?”

I begin cutting the onions, but I put the knife down and look him in the eye with the blankest face. “What does it look like?” “Careful.” He takes another sip, slowly, without breaking eye contact. That’s all he says as lifts his weight off the chair. The tone in his voice is demanding but loose at the same time. He walks over to the dining room and looks at me over his shoulder, his hair falling over his forehead. He slams the door leading to the patio as he exits the house. The slam of the door echoes in my ears. Why am I reading so much into the way he closed the door? I stare at the pot as the water begins to boil over. Loud heels enter the room. I already know it’s my mama by the clicking of her red stilettos against the hard marble floor. “Nina! Have I taught you nothing?” She shoves me away from the stove. Giovanni showed me a different side of him tonight: his kindness toward my mama. But I can’t wrap my head around how fast his emotions went from hot to cold in less than a minute. “Go get dressed for dinner, my love,” she says. “Be ready in an hour! No less.” I put on a red silk dress for dinner tonight, but I can’t find my black heels for the life of me. I trash my room trying to find them. They were a gift from Mama from Paris for my eighteenth birthday. They are suede and have a skinny heel and would look perfect with this dress. I toss a couple of my clothes back into the closet as I fall on the floor, accepting my defeat. “Jesus, Nina.” My sister comes into my room, laughing at the mess I’ve made. “Can’t find those heels Mama got me from the Gala.” “Oh, yeah.” She scratches her head. “I have those on right now.” I look down at her feet and see her freshly painted toes popping out of my favorite shoes. “Give them back. You can wear the white ones.” “Fine.” She walks over to my bed and takes the shoes off, swearing under her breath.

I can’t help but laugh at her. “Maybe you’ll get a pair since you turned eighteen recently,” I say while slipping my heels on. People always think having a sister is one of the best things in the world, but I disagree in this moment. Growing up with Ana, she always had to have everything I had, or something better. She stole every fancy dress I got, and all my makeup. “Where’s Carlo?” Why hasn’t she moved any of her belongings out of the house yet? She’s a married woman, and she needs to take her things out of this house and move in with Carlo. “Downstairs, talking with Papa.” She’s stumbling in the heels I gave her. I made sure to give her an uncomfortable pair so she doesn’t feel the urge to take any more of them. “Are you coming down?” I stand up and walk behind her. “Coming.” My sister and I both enter the formal dining room at the same time. She runs into Carlo’s arms like a child who got offered a piece of candy. The staff have set up the table with white rose petals placed evenly on the forest green table runner. I hate calling them staff because that’s not how I see them. They have been in our family for years. Especially Balenca. Sometimes she acts like my sister, and other times she acts like a second mother to me. It’s funny, really. She walks over to me, pouring my favorite drink in a large, rounded glass. “Thank you, Balenca.” “Of course, baby.” I shoot her a soft smile. Her hair is shaped in a bob cut. I have never seen anyone pull off the look like she can. Papa sits on the opposite side of Mama, and Ana finds her seat next to her husband, leaving one empty chair for me to sit next to the man I think I pissed off an hour ago. I pull out the chair and take a seat, feeling his eyes roaming over my exposed chest. My lungs expand as I try to take a deep breath to calm down. My hands are beginning to sweat. “Shall we get started?” Papa asks everyone as the staff bring in the food I helped cook earlier.

“So glad we can eat here together as a family now,” my mama says, biting into a pierogi, the food she is known for. I hesitate to eat my food as I feel myself about to say something I will regret. “Not everyone here is family,” I finally say while biting down on the fork. Mama chokes on her wine, sounding like she almost spit it out. “Manners,” Papa says. “Giovanni is connected to our family now through Carlo.” He tilts his head toward Carlo in approval. “Matter-a-fact, he has been family for quite some time now. It would be in your best interests to accept that.” I bite back any harsher words I want to say; I know not to test my limits with my papa. If he weren’t here, I would probably keep pushing because that’s just what I do. My father sends me a glare of disapproval over the table as I lift the glass of red wine to my lips. I look down instantly. It’s hard to look at him anymore. Before he decided to arrange a marriage between me and Kirill Stepanov, I thought he respected me. One gulp of wine turns into three—then six as I try to get his motives out of my head. I will never forget the first time I knew my father was not a good person. He came to visit us here in the new house when I was six. I had a terrifying nightmare and came rushing into their bedroom. He held a gun at me as I opened their door; Mama was screaming at him, telling him to stop and put the gun down, but he didn’t. It’s almost as if he wanted to shoot me even though he knew who I was. I didn’t think anything of it because I thought he was just protecting her. Maybe he thought I was a stranger breaking into the house. I felt proud of him even if I was the one he almost shot. “Ah! Nina, do you remember Katie from high school?” my sister says, breaking my intruding thoughts. “Yes.” I put the glass back down on the table before I shatter it with my grip. “Yeah, she got busted for having weed on her while driving to work.” My sister sounds proud that she knows what our old friends are up to. Like

getting caught with weed is a serious crime compared to the things the men around us have done. “Oh, wow. What does she do, again?” “I think she works at the hospital.” Ana’s eyebrows raise, trying to pull me into the conversation I’m trying my hardest to care about. The only thing that interests me is the fact Katie works at the hospital. I used to dream about going off to college, but I would never be allowed to. I had two years to do a lot of things with my life, but if I’m being honest, the only thing I can even remember is volunteering at an art studio. I met two of my best friends there, but I haven’t talked to them in a while. This is the easiest way to cut ties with my old life. I say “best friends,” but they don’t feel like that anymore. The closest I have ever been to anyone is Madeleine and Savini. They’re like sisters to me. Even in school I wasn’t able to make many friends. When I was a junior, Mama unenrolled my sister and me and made us get our diplomas online. Something about how the risks are too high. I’ve missed out on so much. Max was able to go to high school, but we weren’t. Complete bullshit, if you ask me. And sexist. Because Max is a man, he can handle himself? Screw that. I may want nothing to do with this lifestyle, but if it came down to me and another person, I’d gladly take the other life before I gave up my own. “When is the family getting together again?” I try to change the subject after an awkward silence fills the room. “We’re meeting at our restaurant soon, maybe at the end of this week. And perhaps the day after we will have family over for a game night!” Mama says, enthusiasm filling her voice. The last time we had a game night was years ago. It used to be one of the best times ever. I wonder if things will be different this time around. I was a child when those nights were held. My cousins and I would always play with our dolls while the adults drank over brooding conversations. “We haven’t done one of those in years,” I say. “That’s what will make it fun,” Ana chimes in. It could be. Or it couldn’t. “May I be excused?” I ask my Papa, and he nods. I toss the cloth napkin over the food I hardly touched and try to scoot my chair back. I look down and see Giovanni’s foot trying to pull the chair

back in. One of his hands rests on his leg, and the other reaches for his fork. I try to push back the chair one last time and nearly fall out of it, but he grabs onto the back, steadying it. “Thank you,” I say, looking down at him. “Dinner was great,” I say to my family as I excuse myself from an uneventful family dinner. “Nina,” Papa says. I turn around to face him. “Yes?” “We have some things to discuss when you have the time.” I nod. “Of course.” OceanofPDF.com

I 6 NINA spend a little while in my bedroom trying to clean up the mess my sister leaves everywhere. She and I are very different when it comes to how we keep our things together. She’s a mess, and I’m cleaner—it’s always been like that. I creak open the door to the library slowly to make sure there isn’t anyone in there. Once I’m sure I’m alone, I walk over to the corner that has all my art supplies in a box. This is my favorite room in the entire house. Unlike every other room, this one seems ancient. Two of the walls are covered in tall bookshelves that are painted in a dark maroon. The floors are dark wood and have a couple of cracks in them. It’s the only room in the house that reminds me of my time in Paris. I take out a couple of my paintings and toss them on the floor. When Mama took my sister and me to Paris, I learned how to paint from a person who had a small shop on the bridge. I asked him if he made good money painting, and he said something I will never forget. “There are people fulfilling their dreams because they decided to go and do it.” He never answered my question, but I don’t think he never painted for money. He painted because he loved to. It was his dream. I used to doubt my ability to paint, but his words changed the way I view many things in life. If I want something, I should go for it. That’s what gave me the courage to talk to Papa about taking two years to have a life before I get trapped down.

The man wasn’t old, but I could tell his mind had aged far more than his body. There is a saying: the eyes are the window to one’s soul. His eyes were full of emotion. I paint because of how moved I was by the man on the bridge. I wish I knew his name. That day, I stopped by a shop and saw a painting set that screamed quality. I purchased two: one for me, and one for him. I stayed up all night and painted my heart out. Nothing I painted was great, but the feeling I got when the paint smoothed over the canvas like butter was unbelievable. Better than therapy, and I have had years of that. Every morning I walked past the man on my walk to get coffee and took in his features. Painting the background he stood in every day was the most difficult part. It was a difficult task trying to capture every captivating detail that stood behind him. The weather changed every day. Some days it was pure blue sky, and other days the clouds took over the sky, leaving only a small cast of light on the water. It took me nearly a week to try to paint him—or something that resembled him—but three weeks to finally pick the weather I wanted to paint. I decided to mix the days together. Only a couple of clouds in the sky —that way the sun could cast a light on his face, revealing his features. The way his face brightened when I gave him the painting, he looked so shocked, as if I’d just handed him the Mona Lisa. And I don’t even know how to describe his excitement when I handed him the painting set. It was such a small encounter every day, but he is the reason I still paint today. Because of him, I found a way to let out my emotions without harming anyone’s feelings. I found my outlet. The picture I took of my sister at the altar with Carlo on their wedding day will be the best one-year anniversary gift for them next year. It would have been great to give it to them for the wedding present, but there is no way in hell I’ll be able to paint all the details in less than a week. I look up on the shelf, trying to find my box of watercolors. After pushing a couple of books out of the way I find it covered in dust. For months I’ve only used acrylic, so I hope I don’t mess this painting up. I grab the box off the shelf. “I can help get that for you,” an all too familiar voice says in the corner of the room. The books come tumbling down on top of me, hitting me in the face.

“Merde!” I shout, pressing the palm of my hand to my nose. I look down at my feet and see Giovanni sitting in the chair. “You scared me,” I say, trying to catch my breath. I could have sworn I was alone. “Not what my intentions were.” He swirls the alcohol around in his glass. “And what were those intentions?” I don’t know why I’m trying to have a conversation with this man. I think he and I can both agree that we are anything but civil with one another. “I was in here first.” He flashes his straight white teeth at me. “This is my house.” “Mine too.” He brushes nonexistent crumbs off his expensive black suit. “We are family now, remember?” I cringe at his words. Family. I don’t want to consider him a part of my family, because it feels like he isn’t. His cousin married my sister, not him. Screw family relations. I roll my eyes at him and start to pick up the books that hit me on the head. “What’re you painting?” he asks in a deep, interested voice. “What does it look like to you?” I sound like I’m mocking him, but I truly just want to see if he can figure out what it is. I only have the main details sketched out so far: the willow tree behind the archway, and a couple of chairs on the right of the canvas. “Carlo’s wedding?” “Yep.” My breath is cut in half when I feel his body only inches away from mine. The warmth radiating from his body sends chills down my arms. “You just going to stand there all day?” I want him to back away from me. I don’t know how much of his company I can stand anymore. He inches closer to my ear. “I’ll do what I want, Nina.” My name flows softly off his tongue. A deep Italian accent, deeper than I have heard anyone say my name before. I can’t deny it, Giovanni is very easy on the eyes. But I can’t think like that. I am supposed to marry another man. “And . . .”—my voice sounds shaky—“what is it that you want?” I press my lips together, forcing myself to shut up.

His fingers lace through the tank top string, making it fall down my arm. My lungs fill fast and empty faster. His fingers trace my collarbone. I look down and notice just how many tattoos have been inked into his fingers. A year is displayed across four of his fingers. 2004. He grabs the string and pulls it back into place. “A little revealing for you, no?” I don’t know why I’m allowing him to touch me, but his touch feels good on my skin. Similar to the feel of a cold breeze on a hot summer’s day —relieving, in a sense. He shouldn’t be touching me. I shut my eyes. The pounding in my chest is controlling my thoughts more than I care to admit. The feeling of my heartbeat traveling through my body is overwhelming. One look from Giovanni and I lose some of my senses. “Don’t wear this again.” I open my eyes once I hear him taking a couple of steps back from me. He reaches into his pocket, taking out his phone. The screen lights up his face, revealing his strong, dense jawline. It sharpens when he bites down. “Nina,” he says in a demanding tone. I pause when his eyes find mine again. “Yes?” I finally respond. “Do something for me?” A feeling of unease floods over me like a tidal wave, washing me away like a piece of sand at the bottom of the ocean. Giovanni never asks anyone for a favor. He always handles everything by himself, so I’m nervous to hear what he wants from me. “Hmm?” I try to steady my voice. “Find your father’s phone and give it to me.” Every muscle tenses in my body with every word that just came out of his mouth. Does he want my father to hate me forever? “I don’t want to do that.” My breath hitches, putting pressure on my chest. An uneasiness displays clearly on my face for Giovanni to see. “Don’t care. You will do it. Like it or not.” His face removes every ounce of emotion as he looks away from me, walking out the French doors. And just like that, his emotions go from hot to cold again, giving me a migraine to deal with.

OceanofPDF.com

W 7 NINA hen I walk into the living room, my brother is sprawled over the couch with another new woman. It seems he has a new one clinging to his side like a lost puppy each week. I don’t judge my brother for this; I do wish he would just pick one girl to be friendly with. I’m beginning to lose track of their names. Right now, I’ve no idea if I have ever met this girl before. Max has a thing for blondes with bright souls that can make up for his lack of affection. I try to make my feet sound heavy as I walk in behind them to make my presence known so they’ll stop sucking each other’s faces. But they don’t, not even when I sit on the same couch as them. “Get a room,” I finally say, kicking my brother’s leg. He pushes the girl off him as if he didn’t enjoy his time with her. “Nina, car,” my brother orders. “I don’t want to go just yet.” I know exactly why he wants to take the car right now, but I am not in the mood today. Call it self-care. I want to throw myself on the couch with a bowl of popcorn with extra butter and call it a day. You know the feeling where everything seems out of control and all you can do is watch the world crumble under your feet? I could run away; I could take the easy way out—but I won’t. I know I should care. I should be thanking him for having my back. But I’m starting to think I shouldn’t even bother anymore. There’s no way out of this no matter what I say. Papa will just remind me that this was my idea, and I must live up to my word.

I want to fight him on this marriage, but I have lost all hope. In a couple of weeks, I will have a different life, and I just need to accept it. Deep down I believe my papa is a good man, but he will always put Cosa Nostra before his family. Max’s arms relax over the girl, his face tensing, trying not to argue with me. That’s the thing about brothers—or a brother like Max. With him being the overprotective brother, he doesn’t quite understand that I am bound to go against what he orders me to do. He’s twenty-five years old and hasn’t learned that quite yet. He will learn eventually that sibling love is constant, but his anger and frustration are only temporary. That’s what makes us a dynamic duo. I can hear the blonde whispering into his ear, probably saying something I would get pissed off at, but I don’t want a difficult day. Giovanni has been messing with my emotions, and he hasn’t even been back that long. Forcing me around, toying with me, and making me do his dirty work. If he were enough of a man, he would take my papa’s phone by himself. My thoughts are interrupted when Max tugs on my arm, lifting me off the couch. “Max, I can walk by myself.” “We’re going now; I don’t want to take any chances.” “Fine.” He takes after Papa with his looks: tall with dark eyes. I follow him as we walk into the garage and hop into his car. It’s older, very different from what everyone else in my family drives. Max doesn’t even give me a chance to buckle my seat belt as he shifts the car into reverse, throwing my head forward so it slams into the dashboard. “Fuck,” I say, trying to laugh so I can cover my frustration. “Sorry.” I can’t help but laugh. This day just started and it’s already all over the place. Max made me leave the house in my sweatpants and tank top because he doesn’t want to take any chances. I admire him for how much he cares, but this is not how I wanted to do it. I’m not even supposed to marry Kirill for a few weeks.