spades by kyra irene

The memory of Kirill shoving me against the wall, attempting to force himself on me, overwhelms my emotions. Maybe he’s right: doing this now is the best idea—especially since there isn’t anyone home besides his blonde. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if Papa knew where I’m going. Max is speeding, going nearly twenty miles per hour over the speed limit. I never said he was smart; I only said he cared. It is kind of exhilarating though. I haven’t left the house in weeks because of all the wedding planning I did with Ana. A feeling of freedom and bliss. “What if Papa finds out?” I ask. “He won’t, Nina.” My head falls between my shoulders as I think about what Papa will do to me, or even Max, if he finds out he helped me do this. Papa and Max have never been civil. The only way they are similar is their need for power. That’s the reason they clash so much. Papa wants to retire, but Max refuses to marry. Papa loves us—I know he does in his own way. I read something in a book once about how children pick up their parents’ bad tendencies. Out of the three children my parents have, myself included, Max had it the worst. He got caught in the fires of my own father’s suffering. Ana and I were able to escape with Mama, but Max was not allowed to follow because he needed to learn how to become a man. Max does a good job at acting like he hasn’t been introduced to the toxic culture Papa forced on him. He was never given the chance to grow up in a calm environment, and I can’t help but sympathize. “Do you know where Kirill is?” I’m trying to make myself feel better about this situation. My brother grips his steering wheel and glances down at me. “Yeah, I do.” He’s trying to end the conversation, his expression almost begging me not to ask another question, but I do because I know he will tell me. Max doesn’t keep secrets. Not a single one. That’s one of the many things I admire about him. Honesty. He may choose not to tell me things, but if I ask the right questions, I could know everything there is to know.

“Where?” I finally ask. His head shakes as he debates what words he will tell me. Will I get the whole story, or will I just get a simple answer? “Listen, Nina,” he says, letting out a long sigh as if it will reset his emotions. “Giovanni has created a lot of issues. But you can thank him for sending Kirill back to Russia.” My eyes narrow, trying to make sense of what he told me. Giovanni made Kirill leave. Why? “Kirill is not here?” I ask, just to clarify. “No. And he won’t be here for a while. Mi dispiace.” He slams his fist against the steering wheel in frustration. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to do anything to help the situation. I’m upset with myself for not pushing Papa enough to back out of the contract. And I’m pissed that it was Giovanni who was able to get through to him.” I shake my head back and forth, trying to figure out what to say. Max is mad at himself for not being the one to stand up to our papa. Is the contract with Kirill void now? If it was, he wouldn’t be helping me find a way to get on the pill. “Max, it’s okay.” Those are the only words I am able to say. I’m anything but upset with him; I never expected him to stand up to Papa. If anything, I’m glad he didn’t, because he would have gotten the hand from him. But what I have a hard time understanding is why Giovanni stepped in. He doesn’t owe me anything. Sure, he has watched over me nearly my entire life, but I thought something changed once he left. Unless he only did that because he wants something from me. Papa’s phone. All motives aside, the feeling of freedom and bliss comes back to me. It’s impossible to care about anything wrong now that I know Kirill is an entire ocean away. I can finally breathe again. OceanofPDF.com

I 8 GIOVANNI have lived by rules my entire life. Many of my father’s words went in through one ear and out the other because they didn’t seem to threaten me in any way. But four of his rules have stuck with me because if I defy them, the penalty for my actions can be summed up in one word. Death. I try to tune my father out as he reads the rules to me again through the phone. “Rule number one, Giovanni. Do not ever contact another member directly. This will put me at risk since there are a number of men trying to overtake our family.” He doesn’t have to worry about that. I only make conversation with them when they are already present in the room. “Rule number two, never touch another man’s wife.” I hear him take a gulp of a drink I assume is alcohol—rum, to be exact. “Let’s just get on with this, yeah?” I want to hurry up this conversation. I’ve been staring at my computer screen for so long, trying to solve a problem that has been on my back for years. I stayed up all night attempting to piece together this puzzle of a shit show. Some of it makes sense, and the rest may as well have me thrown into oblivion. “Giovanni.” My father sighs into the phone. “You need to come here as soon as you can. Do I need to continue to remind you about rule number four?” “Tu non.” I cut him off before he can speak any further. The rule is about respect and showing up on time. I would have if it weren’t for Carlo’s demands.

Not to mention, I’m kind of having fun with Nina. Her father is involved in more than I ever would have thought. I just need his fucking phone to find out more. If Nina is smart, she will give me his phone soon. “I will be there in a week. Does this suffice?” The click of his tongue on his teeth runs through the speaker of my phone as he takes in a deep breath. “And if not—” Tired of his empty threats, I hang up the phone. I slam my computer shut and lean back in the dining room chair. “Giovanni,” Miliana says, stumbling back and placing her hand over her heart. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Mama.” “Absurdité.” She throws her arms into the air dramatically. Is every female in this house overly dramatic all the time? “Plans for today?” she asks while coming over to the table I was working at. She has no clue what my plans are for today. I hate that I’m doing all of this behind their backs, but my plans would be destroyed if anyone found out. As of right now, I only have my suspicions. I raise my eyebrows and glance at my laptop and phone. “Mon Dieu, get your head out of work!” She reminds me all too much of my own mother. Miliana has a heart made of gold. For the life of me I cannot understand how she and Rolando have made their marriage work. She walks around without a worry in her mind. Years and years of marriage haven’t tainted her heart. She’s just like my mother. They both carried on, ignoring any acts of violence the men in their lives created. It takes a strong heart to love the way my mother and Miliana love their husbands. Showing their affection and giving it to people who don’t deserve to see it. They’re able to ignore the coldness that surrounds their daily life. The most admirable part is their raw honesty. My mother held onto the best part of herself: her heart. That’s the sickest irony the world could ever fight back with. “Mama, have you seen my—?” Nina walks into the room brighter than ever, but she freezes when she sees me. She must have expected me to go back to my daily professions, but I have other things to deal with. The last time I saw her this bright and

bubbly was years ago, when she had no worries flooding her mind because of that damn deal. Her dark brown hair matches her tanned olive skin perfectly. I told her not to wear outfits like that anymore—did she not understand me the first time? There are men all over who would take their chances with her no matter the consequences. Does she have to learn the hard way? She can’t just walk around with a sheer white, loose-fitting top that cups her breasts. I clear my throat in an attempt to clear my mind. I don’t need another man’s blood on my hands trying to defend the girl’s honor. “My love, come shopping with me today. We have that dinner coming up.” Miliana walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of red wine. It seems as if that’s their water. “We can go at noon?” Nina asks while grabbing the wineglasses from the cabinet. I can’t say I like this better than the Nina I saw the other night. I can only take so much. Nina smiles at me, with a hint of mocking hidden behind the curves of her lips. “Giovanni.” “Nina.” I take a deep breath before taking my computer off the table. I can’t get shit done when she is walking around wearing hardly any clothes. Go shopping, Nina. Don’t tempt me. “Giovanni, come with us.” Miliana’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “Maybe another time.” I’m trying to sound sincere. I can think of a million other things I would much rather do. “I’ll send a couple of my men with you. Call me if you need me.” My jaw clenches as I stand up, fixing my posture. I have shit I need to deal with. OceanofPDF.com

“M 9 NINA ama, do you mind if I take the car today?” I ask as we pull into the driveway of our house. Shopping with her and Ana has always been fun, but always exhausting for some reason. “What do you need it for?” “I want to go to the studio for a little while.” I’ve been meaning to go for ages, but the new life I’m soon to have keeps changing my plans. Luckily, I was able to paint the other night. “Who will go with you?” “I’ll just go by myself,” I ask, even though it’s more of a statement. Max always drives me. It’s nice, but I don’t need him watching over me all the time. There’s only a little bit of time left of my freedom, and I want to make the most of it. Plus, all I’ll be doing is organizing the studio; I don’t need Max waiting in his car for me, bored out of his mind. “What about your father’s rules? You are the one who agreed to them, my love.” She’s talking about rule number one, and that’s apparently the most important rule: always have someone with me. Papa said that people know who I am and know my last name, but over the past two years, no one has blinked an eye at me or even questioned my last name. The people I spend time with are not bad, nor do they show any interest in the terrible things that go on in this town. “Just let this one time slide. Please?” “Fine. But take the car soon if you don’t want anyone stopping you.”

We both exit the car. She opens the trunk to take the bags out, but Giovanni’s men grab them from her instantly. I wait for them to walk inside before entering the car on the driver’s side. I have my license, but I almost never drive. I buckle my seat belt and put the car in reverse. Driving down the road, away from my family, I already feel relaxed. “Nina! Where the fuck have you been?” I drop my bag over the counter and hunch over. “I’ve been busy.” I laugh. “I can tell—you look exhausted. Get over here!” Alex walks over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. His hug lasts longer than it should, but I find comfort in how much he missed me. Alex, a person who has been in my corner over the past two years. He’s the kind of person who puts others’ interests before his own. When I walked in looking for a job, he told me he didn’t have any openings. He saw the expression drop on my face and told me he would make a job for me if I needed it. I didn’t need the money; I have enough of it because of my family. I told him that I didn’t want a job, but it would mean the world to me if he let me sell my paintings at his gallery. In that moment, he told me he would do anything to help me out. I found my best friend while I was searching for a normal life. He steps away from me as I look him up and down. His cargo pants are covered in paint, and so are his arms. He smells like fresh acrylic. “How are you and Jacob?” I ask. “Good. He’s been acting weird lately, but I think school is getting the best of him.” I walk over to the cart of paint brushes and bring them to the sink and begin washing them. Alex met his boyfriend, Jacob, at a night club. They have been together for years, and they fit perfectly together. I’m kind of jealous of their

relationship. They’re best friends who spend all their time together. They’re in love. It’s plain and simple: I’ve never been in any kind of relationship where I felt even a sliver of love. Come to think of it, my first kiss was when I was in Paris, and the guy’s breath tasted like clam. It was awful. And on top of that, once we broke apart our kiss, he tried to get to third base in the middle of a restaurant. Who the hell does that? “Yeah, school can do that,” I say as if I know what college is like. I’ve wanted to go for a while, but I didn’t want to put in all the hard work for something that wouldn’t benefit my future. Art benefits me. It’s a passion I have carried with me for years, and I intend on keeping it. I could be locked up by my future husband, but that wouldn’t stop me from creating. “Why don’t you just finish cleaning those brushes and meet Brooke for lunch or something? I just texted her that you were here, and she keeps blowing up my phone asking for you.” He laughs while handing me his phone to read all of Brooke’s messages. Alex wasn’t lying: she’s sent him eleven of them in the ten minutes I’ve been here. I giggle as I hand him back his phone. “All right, I’ll go meet her at Benito’s.” “Sounds like a plan. And Nina, I’m having a bunch of my friends come to the art exhibit I’m observing in two days. I’d love it if you’d come.” I have no idea if I will be able to make that one, no matter how much I want to. “I might be able to. I’ll text you Friday and let you know?” “Sounds good!” I set the brushes on a dry towel and pick up my bag. “I’ll see you in a bit.” I push open the large clear door, making the bells above me jingle as I step onto the pavement. Giovanni’s leaning against the hood of his car. I throw my head back in defeat, trying to laugh at the situation, and walk toward the coffee shop I’m supposed to meet Brooke at. “And where do you think you are going now?” he asks as he catches up to me, trying to grab my bag off my shoulders. “Are you following me?” I concentrate on the city in front of me, trying to avoid looking at him again. “Watching over you.”

My head snaps back to his as the weight of his heavy arm lands on the back of my neck. “So you’re following me.” He’s wearing black jeans and a maroon long-sleeve shirt that is rolled up on his arms. I can’t look again because I will only stare. “Call it what you want,” he tries to continue, but I stop my stride right in front of him, his body slamming into mine. “Watch it.” “Just leave me alone!” I yell louder than I mean to. A small smirk appears on the lift of his mouth. “Can’t do that.” I am trying so freaking hard to live in my own bubble for a little while longer, and this asshole is ruining it for me. “I don’t need you here—just go.” My hands push on his chest, trying to make him go back to his car. “Donnina, the only way I am leaving is when I have you in my car.” His head tilts at me as my frustration toward him grows. Donnina. Little woman. “I am not going anywhere; I’m meeting a friend for lunch, plus I drove here, and I’ll need to drive back.” “I’ll get someone to drive your car back,” he says calmly. “I’m excited to meet this friend of yours.” “Why did you even come back?” Fury is running through my veins at this point. “I’m sure you’re aware. My cousin got married.” He smirks. “And why are you following me?” I don’t need this man to watch over me like I’m a child. I’m in the city, meeting a friend for lunch—nothing about that accounts for the need for protection. “Someone has to. Your father doesn’t seem to care about where you wander off to.” I choose not to respond to him any more. I don’t want my last moments to be filled with anger toward someone who doesn’t deserve anything from me. The walk over to Benito’s is fast considering it’s only two blocks away. Giovanni steps in front, opening the door for me. I shoot him a smile, but he knows it’s sarcastic. Can a smile be sarcastic? I don’t care—he got the hint. I walk my way over to Brooke, who found a spot in the middle of the coffee shop.

“Where the hell have you been?” she says, opening her arms and pulling me in close. I feel big hands tighten around my waist as Brooke slowly lets me go. “I had my sister’s wedding; the planning took up a lot of my time.” Brooke looks terrified by my answer, and I can’t figure out why. Her golden hair falls down the side of her body, flowing like a steady stream of sunshine. Her hazel eyes keep looking behind me and then back to mine. I turn my head to find Giovanni just standing there, waiting for an introduction he will not get. “Can you get me a cold brew coffee?” I ask, patting him on his chest. His jaw hitches, and the look on his face tells me that I will be hearing about this later. But in this moment, I don’t care. He wouldn’t have to do it if he didn’t follow me. It’s not my fault. His lips press together as he makes his way to the barista. “Nina, who is that, and where did you find him?” She’s whisperscreaming with excitement. The blue scrubs she is wearing fold as she leans toward me, trying to hear my response. “Trust me, you don’t want to be involved with him.” “Are you blind?” “No, I’m just not stupid.” I laugh, looking over in his direction. “You seem conflicted.” Her head tilts down, grinning. “We need to do this more often. I feel like I hardly ever see you anymore.” I quickly change the subject. My eyes fall when I realize I don’t think I will be able to for much longer. “Yeah, we really should. I miss you. Are you coming to the art exhibit with us?” Giovanni walks over with coffee. He takes a seat right next to me, sitting too close. I scoot my chair away from him, but he grabs it and pulls it all the way over to his. Brooke looks at us back and forth, trying to cover her smile with her coffee. “I don’t think I’ll be able to.” I look down at Giovanni and see his fists tighten. That tells me all too well that I was right, and I won’t be able to go. Nina Romano, say goodbye to your precious freedom.

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“N 10 NINA ina.” The sound of my sister’s voice slowly wakes me up. “Nina.” She repeats herself. I am exhausted after all the stores Mama made us go into today. I can’t complain though; I came home with so many new things. The only thing Ana shopped for was lingerie. Mama shook her head the entire time, and I did too. Should act like I’m still sleeping or not? I open one of my eyes and look at the alarm clock resting on the table next to my bed. It’s midnight. What does my sister want at twelve in the freaking morning? My curiosity gets the better of me as I turn toward her. “What is it, Ana?” I ask with a groggy voice. “Why are you even here right now?” “Get up. Max told one of the guards to go and watch the warehouse tonight.” I focus all my attention on her and notice she’s decked out from head to toe in an outfit made to impress. What the hell is she thinking? “Ana. Whatever plans you have floating around in the beautifully idiotic mind of yours, forget them.” “No. We used to do this all the time!” She stands on my bed, pulling on my arm and forcing me to sit up. “Now’s our chance!” She’s trying to whisper her excitement, which makes me giggle. It’s true—we used to go out all the time once we looked old enough to pass for twenty-one. We’re still not of age, but most of the men at the clubs are familiar with Papa and they allow us in.

There’s only one specific bouncer who won’t accept a bribe not to tell Papa, and he only works at the club on Saturdays. “It’s a Monday,” I say, rubbing my eyes, trying to wake myself up. “Well, technically, it’s a Tuesday.” I laugh. My sister is up to something. She knows I can’t pass up a night of fun like that. The little devil is using my weakness as her strength to get what she wants. “You can wear that black dress you bought today. Nina, come on!” She sits on the bed, pushing me off with her feet. I spend nearly an hour getting ready. This is the first time I’ve been out in so long. Every dress I try on doesn’t seem worthy enough for the club Ana wants to go to. Eventually, I decide to go with the dress Ana told me to wear. The black dress I bought today fits me perfectly. I walk over to my closet and pull out a designer bag I’ve had for years. In all honesty, I couldn’t care less about designer clothes and accessories, but Mama has preached over the years how important it is to look my best at all times. I have no idea how much I plan on drinking tonight, so the Tylenol pill I wrapped in a plastic bag and put in my purse is my safety measure. “All right. Let’s go,” I say. “Hell yeah! I’m so excited,” she shouts as I slap the back of her head. Closing the door behind me, Ana hops down the hallway, making too much noise. “Shut up.” I try to keep her calm. Getting caught is not what I need right now. I’m finally feeling like myself again, and I don’t need anything ruining that. We’re like children sneaking out of the house. I shake my head at how stupid all of this is, but I’ll do it for Ana. We didn’t have the normal childhood many others have. Even though we were able to spend most of our time in New York and Paris, there were still men watching our every move. Sneaking out sounds childish, but it’s what we have always had to do, and I guess some things just don’t change.

The lights strain my eyes while I make my way back to the bar. Drunk strangers make the best dance partners. No feelings attached, which makes it better in my opinion. The music makes everyone’s bodies move as if they’re puppets on strings. Just people enjoying each other’s existence and feeding off smiles. The music in here is blaring, and I can hardly hear myself think. I guess that’s a good thing. I only came here to have fun. Alcohol. I need more. “They cut you off, remember?” Someone is screaming at me. I never planned on drinking this much, but that’s what the water and Tylenol is for. Look at that—sober me knew what to expect. “Are you good?” Whoever this person is, they’re holding me up. I open my eyes and realize that I fell into Ana’s arms. I can tell she is trying to keep me steady, but she’s not doing a great job at it. She’s probably more sober than I am right now though. My foot hurts. My head hurts. So do my ears. “Nina, can you hear me? Grab onto my shoulders.” She’s laughing at me. I can’t blame her even if I wanted to; I’d be laughing if I saw myself too. It feels like I’m moving a million miles a minute. She pulls the stool out from the bar and motions for me to sit. Her long, dyed blonde hair is changing colors with the strobe lights. Red, green, pink. They all begin to mix too fast, and now her hair looks like a rainbow. She rolls her eyes at me and then directs her attention to the bartender. “I’ll take a gin and tonic,” she tells him. I open my eyes and shoot her a glare. Her hazel eyes return the glare. “You know what, make that two.” I hate gin. I don’t know why I’m ordering it. It is silent for a moment until Ana lifts her hand to her mouth to cover her burst of laughter when the bartender brings us tall glasses of water. His eyes widen while I stare at him trying to make sense of the words falling off his lips.

“I think water could be good for you two,” he says while trying to hold in a laugh. “Drink this, then maybe I’ll give you more gin.” He probably sees this every day. Two girls at the bar, drinking far too much. More than their bodies can handle. But from a business standpoint, that sucks. They could have made like twenty bucks off two drinks. I take the iced water and sip it. There is a hint of lemon in it. The man is probably right—he is a bartender after all. I feel a twist in my stomach. This can’t be good. I know what comes next, so I gather the little strength I have left and dart through the crowd of people. I can see the women’s bathroom. Fifteen steps. Ten. Five. I swing open the bathroom stall, pushing people aside. I hug the toilet. This is the worst. “Nina, are you good?” She’s holding in her laugh. Again. Ana turns to lock the bathroom door. Her short red dress rides up as she kneels on the ground. She releases a huge sigh while tucking my hair behind my ear. I feel a lot better than I thought I would. She reaches her hand into her purse and pulls out a flask. It’s pink with far too much glitter. It has cursive writing on it. Girls with class don’t need a glass. Ha. I grab it from her and bring it to my nose to smell it. Vodka. I tilt my head back and begin to drink it. “Ana.” Her name slurs out of my lips. “I’m really drunk.” My sister’s giggle softens my sick feeling. Her laugh could make anyone’s day. The gentle sound feels like the warmest hug. “Yeah, you look it.” Was this her plan? To get me drunk off my ass? I’d say she succeeded. Ana’s head whips around so fast that her hair hits me in the face. “Oh my God. Our song!” She shouts in excitement, yanking my arm, pulling me off the ground.

Being drunk makes the best cop-out for any problem. It makes every problem in my mind melt away like candle wax. Nothing seems to bother me as I feel the alcohol run through my veins. In this moment right now, I couldn’t feel more alive even if I were screaming at the top of a mountain. The best part about being this drunk is not a damn thing can bother me. By all means, just enjoy a glass full of poison and watch the truth come out. No filtered thoughts, just pure euphoria. I follow Ana to the dance floor as my mind ignores the hangover I’m bound to feel in the morning. I stumble on my heels, falling backward. Someone’s hands grab my arms, steadying my balance. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I slowly turn around, still holding onto the person kind enough not to let me fall on my ass. My smile leaves my lips. No—it’s stolen. Giovanni Genovese. If eyes could speak, there would be an endless sentence of curse words flowing out of his mouth right now. “Carlo, get Ana.” His voice is flat, fighting with the music blaring through the speakers. I wonder what Carlo is thinking right now. His wife’s “duty” is to stay home and avoid trouble. Hell, he probably thinks that I’m the one who dragged her out tonight. Giovanni looks down at me and his jaw clenches, one of his hands venturing to the small of my back while the other holds me steady. I look him up and down. He’s still wearing his suit as usual. I have never seen him in anything other than a business suit. Except this time, he’s wearing a black button-up shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, creasing the fabric his tailor probably spent hours on end trying to get perfect for him. It’s got to be hard to measure him—his arms are quite large. I shake my head and widen my eyes. What the fuck? My own thoughts send trembles up and down my neck. I am not going to fall into my old habits. Especially not when I’m this drunk. He walks so effortlessly, holding majority of my weight. He doesn’t try to say a single word to me on the walk to the exit. I don’t know whether it’s because the music is too loud or he’s pissed at me.

He wouldn’t have a reason to be pissed at me though. I pull my arm away from Giovanni’s grasp as his hand around my waist tightens. I choke on the air I breathe. His fingers dig into my hips slightly, threatening to sober me up. Tonight was supposed to be fun; I am not going to let him ruin it for me. I try to push his arm off me, but he doesn’t budge. Anger gets the better of me as I try to punch him, but he grabs my fist and shoves me against the wall. He stares down at me, his hands holding my arms above my head. “Don’t,” he says with a firm and assertive voice. His body presses into me, his face inches from mine. “Get your ass in the fucking car, Nina.” The smell of rum comes from his breath. A thousand thoughts are running through my mind, but the only thing I can focus on is the bulge beneath his pants. “You’re happy to see me.” I immediately regret the words that fly from my lips so fast and easily. I slam my eyes shut, hoping I can travel back in time and take my words back. It’s the alcohol. I won’t remember any of this in the morning. “That’s my gun, Nina.” I open my eyes and wince at his words. His dominant dark brown eyes stare into my soul. I let my eyes travel down. A small smile forms in the corner of my mouth, encouraging me to fight back whether he was telling the truth or not. “Oh, I’m sure it is, Gio. You think I don’t know how you feel about me?” In truth, I have no clue how he feels about me. I know it’s attraction, but does that go deeper than the physical aspects? “Watch. It. Donnina.” He finally lets go of my hands. I tilt my head at his reply. I tug on his tie as we walk down the red hallway. I don’t know what has gotten into me, but I need to lose the confidence I have, or it will only piss him off more. I don’t think he has ever shown this much irritation toward me before. It’s the tone of his voice—there isn’t a hint of emotion in it. The exit sign is busted, blinking rapidly, making me feel nauseous. “I don’t think I want to go just yet.” I try to swing around him. Somehow, I manage to duck under his arm and run back to the dance floor.

I close my eyes and feel every beat of the music through my body one last time. God knows I won’t be able to do this in a while, or ever again. His body is pressed to mine, my ass moving against him. I feel his large hands move from my stomach to the lower part of my hips. His head dips down to my ear. His smell is intoxicating; I can’t get enough. “I said get in the car, Romano.” “Say please?” His thumbs dig into the sides of my stomach, venturing closer to my breasts. His head tilts down on my right, inching closer to my ear. “Please,” he says hesitantly. I turn around so that my body is facing his. I have a strong feeling he has never said “please” to anyone before. His jaw is still clenched, but there’s a different look in his eyes. It almost looks like he is enjoying himself, having fun for the first time. I place one hand on his chest and run the other through his dark curls. The corner of his lips moves up slightly. A smile begging to be released. “We can enjoy this moment a little while longer,” I insist. Not even just for myself, but for him. I like seeing him relaxed. He lifts me off the ground and throws me over his shoulder. The swift motion makes me dizzy, but I kind of enjoy it. He takes his hand and pulls my dress down. A light snicker escapes my lips as he walks toward the exit. I lift my head up to look around, and everyone is staring at me. Giovanni is all man. Full of determination, a true alpha. Maybe it’s him everyone is looking at. We exit the building, and I notice two girls to the right of me trying to get the security guard’s number. I don’t know why I find this amusing, but I do. The guard is almost double their size, looking past them as if they don’t exist. That has to crush their spirits, but it doesn’t seem to. They are very persistent. OceanofPDF.com

G 11 NINA iovanni is pissed. Back to his “normal.” His veins pulse with rage as his knuckles begin to turn white from the grip he has on the wheel. Each turn he takes looks unfamiliar. The street he turns onto doesn’t look the safest. The street is filled with trash; it overflows the gutters. The car lights up every time we drive under one of the streetlights, bringing my attention to just how nice his car is. He drives the same car as my brother does, but this one is newer. The entire interior is black leather, with a couple of silver panels lining the dashboard. His smell is comforting. A deep inhale and a mixture of mint and teakwood overflows my senses. I get tired of the silence that roams effortlessly between us, so I reach for the radio—but he grabs my hand, stopping me. He doesn’t let go of my hand; he just moves it onto my leg. His arm stretched across the middle console, he glares down at me, showing no emotion on his face, not a single crease in any of his facial features. His hand is still holding mine. I begin to feel overwhelmed. I never should have had as many drinks as I did tonight, but I’m getting the feeling the shots I took before I was taken away are about to make an appearance. I lean my legs toward the car door as I roll the window down, feeling the warm summer air flowing through my hair. I don’t know the science behind rolling the window down when I don’t feel good, but the fresh air always works better than any medication for nausea. Gio rolls the window up after a quick twenty seconds.

I take my attention off the road and turn to him. I move my hand out from under his and rest my head on his shoulder. “Where are we going?” I finally ask the question that has been lingering in my head this entire ride. It takes me a moment to realize what I just did. I feel safe with him, and that alone is bothersome. But I can’t help but like the feeling of resting my head on him. I feel connected to him. “I need to take care of some things.” “What are these things you need to take care of?” I ask. “Not anything that would interest you.” His words make me question what he is up to. Are these random trips at night when he takes care of people? “And what if it does interest me?” I ask hesitantly. I’m never allowed to ask questions like this—questions that refer to the work I am supposed to know nothing about. Mama used to tell me that all I need to do is sit there and look pretty. When Papa once came to visit us from Italy, I asked him why he doesn’t spend time with us. He never answered that. The next question I asked him was if killing people was more important than his family. I dug myself into a deep hole that night, and I’ve never been able to get out of it. That was the last question I ever asked about the work the men in my life do—until now. Giovanni’s grip tightens around my thigh. “Nothing I do should ever interest you, Donnina.” I sigh in relief when my questions don’t turn into an argument. I don’t know what changed. I used to view Giovanni as a cold-hearted man who was detached from everything that makes people human. But it’s the way he is showing his interest in me. He made Kirill leave. He’s the one who watches over me. That thought makes my heart ache. Diving into how I view Giovanni is not something I want on my plate right now. He releases his grip on my thigh as he shifts the car into park. “Stay here.” “Gio?” I ask. “No, this is really sketchy.” He opens the door on the driver’s side, slamming it shut before I can protest more.

Who the hell just willingly parks on the side of a creepy road in the middle of the night? Or walks into a dark, abandoned warehouse? OceanofPDF.com

N 12 GIOVANNI ina’s soft voice sent a crack through my heart. My blinks feel heavy as I walk in through the back door of the warehouse. The faded memory of my mother’s face appearing in the shadows beneath my eyelids. Her face changing each time I try to remember how her smile made her eyes crease. The memory of her begins to slip away every waking second. “Gio, I need you to stay in here, okay?” My mother speaks to me in the soft voice she always uses, but she seems different in this moment. “Take this, just in case?” She places a revolver in front of me with her hands shaking. She can’t even look me in the eyes. “This is the trigger.” She nods, trying to reassure herself that handing me a gun is a good idea. She walks over to the entrance of the house to answer the pounding on the door. Something isn’t right; I can feel the twist forming in my stomach. I suspect this is a problem my father should be dealing with, but as usual, he isn’t home. “Tommaso non è qui adesso, vi posso aiutarti?” Her voice sounds smooth like butter. It would be in Nina’s best interests to stay the fuck away from me, but I’m too selfish to push her away. I want what I want. If she knew the reason I’m staying here now Carlo’s married, I don’t think she could stand the look of my face anymore. I shrug, shooting the lock off the large iron doors and kicking the door open. Walking forward, I see five men surrounding another man in the

middle of them. What the fuck are they thinking? “I asked for the file, not the fucking man.” I step toward the jackass of a man who has his arms tied. Bruises leave his face yellow and purple. I look back up and stare at Enzo in the face. He has been my right-hand man for years. With my father still alive, I am not Don yet. There is a lot of respect with the title, but I want to make more of a name for myself before I take over. “Boss,” Enzo says as he hands me a file. “He has been working against the Romanos.” I reach for the knife in my pocket. My hands begin to sweat as I tear open the file. I knew something wasn’t sitting right. My family is stronger than the Stepanovs. If Rolando were to think things through with a brain, he would realize giving Nina to me would work out better for him. But there is more to this story. The best thing about Enzo is his heart is cold. Ice-fucking-cold—just like mine. I skim the papers, searching for one name I know will be hidden in the thousands of words. Nina. Taking a deep breath, I kneel down to the man curled up like a goddamn infant. I lick my lips and shake my head. Fear is something I never feel, not a single drop of it. But I do feel heartless. My efforts can either be placed in peace or war. And as long as I have Nina in my hands, I will always choose war. It’s the way she acts so fucking helpless, going about her days as if she doesn’t have a bounty on her head. It’s my fault I got involved with her father. I don’t regret getting in the middle of it—it’s the only choice I had. Kirill’s brother wouldn’t be here trying to cause problems if I hadn’t gotten involved, but that’s why I’m protecting her. I am the only one who is even considering her father’s motives. Kirill is not connected to their family whatsoever. Sure, he could benefit them, I don’t doubt that at all. “You’re supposed to be in Russia,” I tell the man on the floor, tilting his chin up with my gun. “Sorry. I don’t listen to you.” Mikhail spits onto the floor. “I am going to make you a deal.” I grab him by his dark brown hair, rolling him onto his back so he can stare at me in the face and know how

much I am not fucking around. The man looks young—too young to be involved in this shit, but that’s what happens when you get involved with the wrong people. “Hmm.” “I don’t fucking make deals with you, or your men.” Mikhail keeps his jaw clenched. “Let’s say you work for me now. Anything I say goes, or you will pay the consequences.” I pause as Enzo’s hand grabs onto my shoulder. I shrug him off; I know exactly what he is thinking. “Nah. I’m done playing these games.” My father’s rules. His stupid fucking rules. The man lying underneath the eye of my gun is Kirill’s brother. I didn’t want him to be here, but I can’t complain about it either. “What does your brother want with Nina?” I finally ask the question I have been itching to get an answer to. He scoffs while I dig my gun into the back of his head. He doesn’t answer my question, so I flip my knife out in my other hand. I’ll give it to the man—he’s fearless. His breath is stable, and his voice is calm. “I don’t know why he wants the whore.” “I think you do, Mikhail.” I move the blade to his lips, pushing deep into his flushed skin, forcing blood to draw. “You insult the girl again . . . you won’t have a tongue.” His body doesn’t even flinch at the wound I’m creating, which only pisses me off more. If he were smart, he would just answer my fucking questions. “I’m guessing your brother sent you here, no? He sent his younger brother to do his dirty work.” “I’m guessing Enzo does yours?” I nod my head slowly at what he says. I hate to admit it, but I would love a man like him on my side. I search his pockets, looking for anything that will help me out. From inside his wallet I pull out his ID. “Joseph? Really?” Tossing bills onto the ground, I find a sheet of paper folded up. My banking information. My jaw ticks. He’s probably the one behind the shit that’s going down with my father. Kirill is a fucking pussy. He can’t even do his own dirty work. “I want everything you have. And the proof.” I stand up, shaking the dirt off my knees. “If I don’t have it in the next two days, you’ll be seeing

me again.” I turn around, ignoring any glances from the rest of the men as I head toward the exit. “Boss. What do you want us to do with him?” Enzo asks as I continue to walk out. “Whatever you want,” I say, not caring about the consequences of breaking the fucking rules. He’s after Nina, and my profession. I don’t care what needs to be done. I reach the car and get behind the wheel. Nina is trying her best to ignore the fact that I am staring at her. She is picking at the bright red nail polish on her fingers, her hair falls over her shoulders as she turns her face in the opposite direction. Her hair is the kind of brown that is rich and deep until a shimmer of light breaks through the strands. The lights on the street bring out a subtle hue of gold and auburn. I start the car up, shifting the gear into reverse to get her home before anyone finds out she was missing. OceanofPDF.com

I 13 NINA throw myself on the couch and reach for the remote. When Giovanni drove us back home, I didn’t have a single thing to say to him once I saw a stain on his sleeve. A stain that was dark red and all too familiar. I am unbelievably exhausted after the turn of events that happened today. The house feels empty, but it’s just quiet because of how early in the morning it is. My sister never came back to the house after Giovanni and I got back. Carlo must have taken her back to his place. I don’t think Carlo is the possessive type of husband, but I do think she will be hearing a speech tonight. I’ll be hearing all about it; Ana isn’t the type to keep her mouth closed. I pull the pillow closer under my head, drifting asleep while an action movie plays in the background. The main character kidnaps his love interest against her will. He kills people left and right, showing no emotion. I let the irony of that slide right past me. “Nina.” A voice approaching from behind me breaks my thoughts. Giovanni is wearing sweatpants and a black scoop-neck T-shirt. I have never seen him in anything other than his expensive suits before, but he pulls off both looks. He steps closer to me, taking a seat next to me on the couch. A numbness creeps into my mind as he swirls the drink in his hand. He looks me up and down. One of my legs is sprawled out from under the blanket.

“I thought I told you not to wear that shit.” His tone is low and demanding. I maintain eye contact. I don’t know who he thinks he is to make demands like that. In the comfort of my own house, I can wear whatever the hell I want to. “What’re you drinking?” I ask. “You want a taste?” Repositioning myself on the couch, I reach over to him to grab the glass from his hands. I have always been a wine drinker—occasionally a tequila drinker, like tonight. My face shrivels up as the whiskey floods my taste buds. “Not for you?” he asks in a husky voice. I cough over my laugh. “Not for me.” I hand the glass back over to him. His brown eyes narrow down at me, and he lets out a low chuckle, the corner of his mouth lifting up. I think he just laughed. His laugh makes me nervous. Spending time with Giovanni puts me on edge, but it feels oddly comforting. I don’t know what to make of it. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? He scoots closer to me, reaching for the remote resting on my stomach. I snatch the remote back, his face inches from mine. “I think you’ll like this movie,” I say with a straight face. “You and the main character have some . . . similar interests.” Giovanni relaxes, his body being swallowed by the cushions on the couch. “Is that so?” “Hmm.” “Like what?” “You act like you’ve never seen this movie before.” “I don’t have time for movies.” “You seem to have time right now.” Giovanni doesn’t say anything. I don’t even think he is watching the screen; he’s watching me. “Well, spoiler,” I say, turning toward him. “He dies.” He grabs my arm and lifts my body up as if I don’t weigh a single pound. His hand grazes over my collarbone, eye contact still intact.

His jaw hardens. “What is it you’re implying, Nina?” He leans forward, setting the glass down on the coffee table. My cheeks flush, burning. I choke on my breath as his fingers trail down my arm. He knows exactly what I mean, and I don’t have the strength to challenge him right now. “That’s what I thought.” He chuckles. A tug on my shorts makes me freeze. His subtle touch makes every nerve in my body halt. I bite down on my bottom lip, trying to keep my thoughts inside my head. My hands are shaking. Get a grip, Nina. The smell of aftershave comes from his chin as he pulls his mouth close to my ear. I don’t know what I find attractive about him right now. Hell, everything. The way he grabs onto me. He’s never touched me like this before. I have no idea what changed. Years ago, he was all talk. “See how easy it is for me to get under your skin?” The words casually fall from his lips. “Tell me . . .” He grabs onto my hair, pulling me further into him. I feel every inch of him, confirming my thoughts from the club. His full attention is on me right now, sending fear through my veins. There is no doubt in my mind: I want a man I cannot have, and he wants me too. I want his touch to roam freely over my body, with nothing holding him back. He doesn’t say a word as his eyes devour mine. He understands what he does to me, and now he is toying with my emotions. His eyes begin to make mine burn. “If I were to slip my fingers beneath these shorts . . .” I suck in a gasp of air, slamming my eyes shut. “Gio.” This cannot be happening right now. My breath shakes as he remains perfectly still. Seconds extend, feeling like minutes. He grabs the ends of my hair, twirling it between his fingers as his other hand grips tightly on my waist. His large hands make me feel small.

I look down at him as he pushes himself closer to me, our lips inches from one another. I could kiss him. But I can’t. I will not allow myself to view him differently. The moment I do that, everything will change. An eternity later, his hands release me, throwing me back into the spot on the couch he snatched me from. I am at a loss for words. Utter silence fills the room, making me feel uncomfortable. My mind is filled with so many thoughts, but none at the same time. Not a goddamn thing in my head makes sense right now. “Your father’s phone, Donnina.” Giovanni’s voice sounds like a threatening whisper. “I want it by tomorrow.” He gets up from the couch and grabs his drink off the table. He takes a couple of steps before he stops, turning his head toward mine. A manipulative smile masks his face as he continues to walk out of the room, leaving me feeling like an object on the couch. Perhaps it’s a good thing Giovanni didn’t smile. Each time he smiles, he acts on it. He was right though, no matter how much I wanted to deny it. He does get under my skin. I have never had someone feel my skin the way he does. Why does Gio think he can have his way with me? Why does he think I will just act on everything he tells me to do? I didn’t plan on taking Papa’s phone, but I will now. I want to know what’s so special about it. Does Papa have something on Gio? Maybe it’s the other way around, and that’s how he was able to get Papa to put a hold on sending me off to Kirill. Curiosity overwhelms me. A part of me wants to do everything he demands, but that will only make me seem weak. I let out the breath I’ve been holding for what seems like forever. He is starting a game he won’t be able to win. OceanofPDF.com

“W 14 NINA ell, good morning, sunshine.” Ana’s voice waves over me as I’m still waking up. “Rough night?” I look at the time on the stove, and it’s noon. I wasn’t able to go to sleep easily last night after everything Giovanni did as we sat together on the couch. “Something like that,” I tell her as I walk over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. I was right to assume I would be hungover from all the alcohol I consumed last night. “You went to Carlo’s?” I take a long overdue gulp of water. My body absorbs the water almost instantly. “Yeah, I did.” “And how was that?” “What’re your plans for today?” She’s trying to deflect my question. Her cheeks begin to turn a bright shade of pink. “Jesus, Ana.” I laugh, already knowing what she did last night. My sister is obsessed with her husband. I walk toward the living room and grab a book off the shelf and hold it up to her. “I am going to read and relax by the pool.” I raise my eyebrows. “Why are you still here, by the way? Shouldn’t you be staying with your husband at the house?” She lets out a mutter as she presses her palms into her forehead. “Yes, but Carlo is gone all the time, so I get his men to drive me here so I won’t die of boredom.” I roll my eyes at her as I walk toward the sliding glass doors. “And how much longer will he let you do that?”

“I do what I want to do.” Her shoulders roll, acting like she doesn’t care. I shake my head at her as I walk out the door. My sister never fails to talk out of her ass. If Carlo didn’t want her leaving the house anymore without him being there, he would put an end to it, and Ana wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. My feet burn on the patio as the summer heat sets the rocks on fire. The pool is crystal-clear, the bright sun breaking through the surface of the water. I lie on the lounge chair watching the trees above me sway in the warm breeze. The rays of sun shine through each movement of the branches. The heat inches over my body relentlessly, so I close my eyes, allowing myself to feel everything in this moment: the fresh air mixed with the smell of pollen. The feeling of Zen escapes me as I hear the engine of Giovanni’s car pulling into the drive with force. The sound of multiple car doors shutting fills the empty air around me. I try to look past the walls of the house to see who else came with him, but they have already left their cars. I stand up and walk toward the gate that keeps the back yard private. Green vines cling to the bricks of the house. I peek my head above the fence and see my cousin Raymond with a woman attached to his arm. A woman I know far too much about. She has no right to walk around with a smile as large as her ego. OceanofPDF.com

GIOVANNI I pull the door to the Romanos’ house open. My car blocks in another as two men and a woman follow me inside. I hold the door open for them without saying a word. One of the men looks familiar. He’s the cousin of Nina. If my memory serves me right, he was the one smoking weed at Carlo’s wedding. There is a time and place for everything. He looks like Max—tall with wavy hair. He has a beard growing. If he doesn’t shave it off soon, he will look like a fucking crackhead. “Thank you, Giovanni,” the woman says as she walks into the house. I think I know her as well, but I cannot put my finger on it. I follow behind them as Rolando greets us. When I left last night, I got a message from an unknown number. I assume it was Kirill because the message was straightforward. Something along the lines of, “You will see me if you threaten my family again.” I never replied because I will continue to threaten his family as he does mine. After the stunt I pulled last night and letting Mikhail walk away with barely a scratch on him, I know that the word will get around soon. Sylvia, that’s the girl’s name. I met her years ago at one of the many clubs I own. I own far more now compared to what I did when I met her, but she stuck out like a sore thumb. Her hair was jet-black, but she’s dyed it to have a hint of red or purple in it. The strands of her hair share the same light hue as Nina’s. Sylvia’s the kind of woman to be upfront about what she wants. While I sipped on water she assumed was vodka, she whispered all the things she wanted to do to me if I were to take her home with me. There is a saying that implies alcohol is one’s liquid courage, and for her it was. I can’t help but wonder if it still is. She grabs onto Raymond’s arm like she is his jewelry. If I cared enough, I would let him know what Sylvia is: anything but loyal. Men have a tendency to want the things I have, so when I found out she was fucking some of the men who made their appearances at my family

dinners, I cut her off fast without any remorse. The sex was good—I can’t complain about that. But to hell if anyone else has what is mine. Twenty minutes fly by me much faster than I thought they would. Conversation with Rolando is interesting. The way he talks about his daughters as if he doesn’t care about them, and the next minute he is talking about them as if they are worth more than anything he has worked his whole life for. I tune out all his insults about the women in his life because starting shit right now would throw too much on my plate. Do I respect women? Absolutely. I mean, in the bedroom is a different story, but I don’t fucking tolerate the disrespect of women. It takes an insane amount of strength to hold back from Rolando. Going off will not help anything, Genovese. While Raymond and Rolando toss their words around with each other, I scroll through my phone reading one of the many messages my father sent to me. I have no idea what more he could have gotten himself into, but he wants me in Sicily by tomorrow. That won’t work for me. My father is the kind of man who doesn’t hear the word “no.” I could write the definition out for him page after page and he still wouldn’t grasp the understanding. He and I clash so much because I was raised with the exact same understanding. When someone tells me no, I fight back until I get what I want. I am a Genovese; it’s in my blood not to take shit from anyone. Dull laughter fills the office as Rolando hands me a glass of rum. “You’re good for our family, Giovanni,” he says in a low and approving voice. I’m really not. I’ve got my fucking eye on him. I nod to agree with him even though I think the opposite. His approval will help me. I need him on my side as I sort through all this shit. My jaw clenches as I see Nina from afar. She is wearing a black bikini that makes the color of her skin pop. Smooth olive skin that I would love nothing more than to touch again. She smiles at Sylvia.

Her fucking smile could make men fall to their goddamn knees. If I only had the chance to get her out of my system . . . I just want her once. I’d be able to look at her without imaging how she would wrap her lips around my— “Cheers!” Raymond says, nudging my arm, making my drink spill on my pants. I try to rewind their conversation, but I don’t remember a fucking thing because of Nina. My fists curl as I think about her even more. If she were mine, she wouldn’t be walking around other men wearing that shit. Her cover can hardly even be considered a cover. For fuck’s sake, even Sylvia is looking at her body. I grit my teeth and lean my head on my hands, blocking my view of her. “What is it we are toasting, exactly?” I ask, trying to sound composed. Low snickers fill the atmosphere. “We heard about Mikhail.” Rolando’s face stiffens. My lips press into a line. How much does he know? What the fuck? I knew word would go around fast, but once I get my hands on the man who spread the news . . . “You take the idea of family to another level.” Raymond’s head tilts toward mine, giving me his approval that I do not need. I nod, not saying a word. I really should have listened. Thoughts bounce around in my head like a ping-pong ball. I need them to tell me what they know again. If they had their suspicions about me, they wouldn’t be sharing their drinks with me. That’s the good news. But Rolando has no idea that I am digging into his past. “I don’t want Kirill near my fucking daughter anymore,” Rolando says as I blink twice in shock. “I don’t trust the fucker.” I slide back into my chair, forcing my smile back. This man is finally getting into the same mindset as me. Give or take a few differences. “Giovanni. Please come to our restaurant tomorrow. Bring whoever you’d like. We will all meet there at eight for dinner.” “Nina!” Rolando shouts at his daughter, making me look back in her direction. She strides toward the office, trying to pull the sides of her bathing suit to cover her almost naked body.

I take a long blink, realizing no matter how much she crosses her arms to cover up her body, nothing gets covered. Her nipples harden before her arms cross over her chest. That still doesn’t help—it only pushes her breasts up, leaving very little to my imagination. “Wear your best tomorrow.” Rolando opens his laptop, excusing both me and Raymond. Nina’s stance freezes as she stands there looking sweet and innocent. Whatever her father says, she will do. My eyes narrow at her, and my fingers form a fist. I know what I want, and I will get it one way or another. OceanofPDF.com

E 15 NINA xpensive cars fill the parking lot of my papa’s restaurant. Dinners like this can go one of two ways. One: Someone dies. Two: It’s a nice family dinner. I walk toward the entrance, focusing on my balance in the tall heels I decided to wear. Papa said to dress my best, and for whatever reason, I did. Raymond opens the door for me. Sylvia pushes her way in front of me. When I see her walk off, I pull my cousin aside. “Ray, what was all that about?” I ask, trying not to meddle. I just think it’s odd for him. Raymond is the kind of guy to have fun no matter the situation. He is careless, but in a fun and relaxed way. He normally has a new girl every time I see him, just like my brother. That’s why I worry. I have seen him with Sylvia consistently over the past three months. I saw her with my brother a couple of weeks ago. “Nina, just having fun,” he says. “I worry about—” “Don’t worry. I already know everything. That’s what makes it fun.” The shake of my head turns into a nod as a low laugh falls from my lips. “You need to stop believing in this romance shit you read about.” My mouth drops open as I scoff, “Let a girl dream, Ray. What the hell?” “Let’s go sit, yeah?” I follow Raymond to the table. I take a seat immediately, trying to avoid doing what he’s doing—saying his “hellos” to many of our family members.

The crystals hanging off the chandeliers almost look fake, but I know they aren’t. Their dim light leaves a warm shadow on all the familiar faces. Papa wouldn’t invest money in something like this and not put in everything he could to go over-the-top. The columns curve up to the ceiling, forming archways all over the restaurant. Green vines flow down the walls. I think they’re real. My eyelids fall in slow motion when I see Giovanni enter with a woman, her hair long and blonde. It’s the girl he was with a week before the wedding—the one who tried to steal his money. Why the hell would he bring her here? Why is he even with her in the first place? The punishment for stealing a man’s money is the loss of a finger. And all of hers are still intact with bright pink nail polish coating her fingernails. I bite down on my teeth. Why do I feel jealous of her? She isn’t even all that pretty. They walk closer, his hand inches away from her ass, her dress far too short for an event like this. Pink, just like her nails, and skintight. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt though—she has no idea what this family is like, or how we do things. It’s an overwhelming feeling of relief when I see my sister skipping toward me, her smile bright as always. “Where is Mama at?” she asks. We sit in the middle of the table as everyone finds their own seat. “I don’t know.” I honestly don’t. Mama doesn’t always like to come to these dinners because of how they normally end. “And where is Carlo?” I ask. “He is talking to Papa, over there.” She points in the same direction Gio is in. They start to walk over to the table. Giovanni doesn’t even pull the chair out for her, which confirms some of my thoughts. She is just another one of his toys. He pulls the empty seat out from right next to me and sits down. His eyes find mine as I deflect them instantly and turn my head down. I’ve been picking at the skin surrounding my nails. It really frustrates me that Giovanni gets under my skin this much. Why does he have to look so freaking good in a suit?

His smell waves right past me as his hand brushes over my back, his mouth coming closer to my ear, making my breath stop suddenly. “You look beautiful.” I am at a loss for words. If I say anything he will just assume that he gets under my skin. If I say nothing, he will still assume that. Because he already knows he does. He knows that he can say anything to me and I will fold under his words. Come to think of it, not much has changed since the time he left. He still makes me nervous. He still acts like he owns me. Is this what I want? At this point, am I even allowed to want anything? My two years are practically over, and I have to do whatever Papa says without any complaints. I have truly become a prisoner to my own promises. I shake my head slightly, trying to focus on the air that runs through my lungs. Breathe, just breathe. It’s nothing. Someone’s arms wrap around me from behind. I shift my head, looking up to see Madeleine standing above me with a smile warping her face from ear to ear. “Oh, mon Dieu!” I screech, trying to get up out of the chair. She steps back, jumping up and down in place. “Oh, mon Dieu!” she mimics with a light laugh. I don’t really get to see her much at all anymore. Time has definitely changed her for the better. She finally learned how to put makeup on without making her eyelids pure black. She always made herself look like a racoon and never heard the end of it from me. It feels so good to see her again my heart can barely contain its excitement when I look at her. We may not be related by blood, but she has always been a sister to me. “How are you?” I ask, bringing my lips to her cheeks just like my mama always does. “I am well. It’s been too long, my love. Are you coming to Paris with us soon?” she asks to imply that she will be going with Mama. “I am staying there for a week or two before I go to Russia. I heard the men there are great.” She winks. I laugh at her response. She is still searching for a man who will change her world. I don’t know how much longer she can keep this façade going. We grew up together, in a strange way. Her father was involved with mine a

long time ago. Her mother was a drug addict and left when she was too young to remember. Mama took her with us to Paris a lot of the time. She made a lot of the women in our family follow us to Paris—something about her wanting Madeleine to stay connected to our family. She never brings up her father anymore. It’s like the moment he passed, every memory of him left her mind and heart. Ever since then, she has been hard to handle. Max holds her money. I can’t remember why, but once she marries, she will get the money in her name, or it will be put in her husband’s name. It was one of the rules when she joined our family. Papa’s rules. Madeleine is a couple of years older than I am. Our birthdays are a week apart. Growing up, we would always have our birthday parties together. She always wanted the girly things to decorate the party with; meanwhile, all I wanted was a small get-together at a cute coffee shop. I stumble forward and Giovanni kicks his chair back, pushing me into Madeleine. His throat clears as he gives me a stare that looks like death, his eyebrows carving down toward his eyes and his mouth forming a subtle frown. It’s a warning. Almost as if he’s telling me I shouldn’t go to Paris with them. I tuck a strand of my curled hair behind my ear. I want to go—I do. I also don’t want Giovanni thinking he can control where I go. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to text you about that.” I try to sound sincere. This way Madeleine can keep her hopes up, and Gio will remain flustered. I tell Madeleine that I will find her later to talk more about the subject. I pull my chair back and take a seat, feeling Giovanni’s eyes on me. I try to make small talk with my sister, but she seems out of it. I stop when I feel a hand brush over my upper thigh. I look down and see his hand gripping my leg, digging his fingers into my skin. My leg twitches, kicking my Uncle Vito’s leg. “Facile,” he says, letting out a scoff mixed with the sound of laughter. “I’m sorry, let me excuse myself.” I throw my napkin down on my clean plate.

Whatever is going on in his head, he needs to keep it there. I don’t want my entire family assuming anything. When I reach the bar, I order my classic red. I take a seat and look behind me as Gio’s stare says more than his words can. The blonde sitting next to him keeps trying to get his attention but fails. I could almost laugh. She is gorgeous; I am just envious of her. Am I though? I wouldn’t want to be the girl who gets ignored by the man who is supposed to be showing interest in her but shows it to another. “You ordered a red?” the bartender asks. I nod in response. “You don’t look like a girl who would order that.” He winks in my direction. My cheeks flush when I realize he’s attempting to flirt with me. If Papa saw him trying this, he would be fired on the spot and walking out with a finger less. However, I can’t help but let this interest me. I lean in toward the bar, and closer to the bartender. His light brown hair is long on the top of his head and shaved into a fade on the sides. “Tony,” I say out loud, reading his name off the shiny silver name tag pinned to his white button-down shirt. “And what is it you think I drink?” His elbows rest on the counter, tensing the muscles in his forearms. “Something sweet.” The corner of my mouth lifts into a smile as he places the glass in front of me. The glass is a lot larger than I normally drink from, but the more the merrier. It tastes bitter, burning my throat. The drink leaves my grasp. Giovanni is standing inches from me. His eyes pierce mine. His jaw hardens, and the glass tips slowly as he dumps the wine over my pure white dress. I gasped, the sound of my own intake of air sending a shock through my body. I look down at my dress, red wine coating my stomach. The emotion washes off my face as I look back up at Giovanni. He is giving Tony the darkest look I have ever seen.

What the hell is happening? Is he upset at me for flirting with Tony? I was hardly even flirting. It was something a schoolgirl would say in an attempt to get a man’s attention. He looks composed, completely unfazed by this turn of events. Giovanni slowly places the glass back down, his fingers clutching the rim, turning white, almost shattering it. The cold continues to fall down the front of my dress. Giovanni looks pleased by his actions. There’s a smile on his lips as he looks me up and down. “You look good in red.” His voice is coated with anger. I shake my head as I rush to the restroom, not paying any mind to how many people saw what just happened. The bathroom looks like I’m trying to clean up a murder. There are paper towels all over the floor. The paper towel dispenser runs out, so I wave my hand under the sensor. What the fuck? Giovanni had no right to do that. God knows he’s probably out there right now cutting Tony’s finger off just for talking to me. I don’t know why he felt threated by a man who works for my father. Hardly even works for him; he only works for the restaurant. I look at myself in the mirror as I realize how ridiculous this is. This entire situation, Giovanni, taking my papa’s phone—everything. What’s the point of all of this? Why is Giovanni messing with me? Messing with my emotions? My fingers run through my hair, attempting to fix the mess I created when I was trying to clean up the wine on my dress. I’ll never get it out. This will only stain. What an I am idiot for even thinking hand soap and water would work. I pull the dress down as it’s riding up my sides and walk into the hallway. God knows what the hell my family is going to think. The lights form a contrast on the face of the man who is leaning against the wall right outside the restroom.

The last person I want to see right now, and maybe ever again. Giovanni. I stare at him, curse words flowing through my mind endlessly. His large frame fills the walkway. I try to squeeze past him, but that gets me nowhere. His tense arms hold me back with no sign of a struggle. I throw my arms up in defeat as I hear the soft laughter coming from the dining area. “I give up!” I shout, but not too loudly for everyone to hear. His face turns white at the sound of my words, like a knife stabbing his open wounds. “What do you give up?” “I am just tired of these games, Gio.” I back away from him, but he continues to close the gap. “Do I look like a man who plays games?” His voice is strong and angry as he steps toward me. I shudder, running out of room as I back up. My back hits the wall, and his arms cave me in, leaving me with less room than before. I close my eyes, knowing where this will lead. “No.” “You’re right. I don’t play games, and I don’t make jokes.” His voice sounds husky, inching toward my ear. “If anyone ever looks at you like that again, Nina, they won’t be able to look at all.” Giovanni’s words make my knees weak. I never thought I would find his threats attractive, but in this moment, the only thing I can think about is the way his lips brush against my neck. My heart beats quicker, pounding against my rib cage. Think, Nina. He kills people. And he enjoys it. He has slept with too many women—far too many to count. “I want nothing to do with you,” I lie, and he knows it. I try to kick him, but I fail. Nothing I do to this man will ever make him feel threatened. He lets out a low snicker, making me regret what I said. “Are you sure about that, Donnina?” The tips of his fingers trail along my jawline, tilting my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “Because I think your body is telling me a whole different story.”

My breath is stolen as his lips touch the burning skin of my neck. My body is shaking. I don’t want this, but I need it. I have never felt a need for anything like this before. My body betrays me as my arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer to me, leaving nothing but clothes as a barrier to our skin touching. “Kiss me,” I whisper. In this moment, I can’t seem to care about anything else. My entire family only a room away doesn’t bother me. The fact that I can never have this man as my own doesn’t either. His tongue warms the skin of my neck as he sucks. “Kiss me.” My breath sounds weak. “Please.” I never thought I would be begging a man to kiss me, or that man would happen to be Giovanni, of all people. He moves his head away from mine. A low grumble rolls out of Gio’s chest. His hands cup my face as he stares into my eyes. “If I were to do that, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Is that what you want?” “Yes,” I say, giving myself no time to hesitate. The tension between us has been a buildup of everything that feels wrong, but so right. “His phone, Donnina.” I shake my head as I filter his words. “Is that really what this is about? You’re using me.” The words pour out of me, making me sound weak. I feel numb at the realization. All these years I thought he wanted me for some reason, but I should have known that Gio doesn’t do things that don’t benefit him. He steps back, giving me space to breathe. I let out a choked breath, disguised as a low laugh. “God, why do you hate me so much?” His hands brush over his chin. “Is that what you think this is?” He closes the gap between us. “You think that this is hate?” His thumb presses down on my bottom lip, making me tremble. “Then why? Why are you doing all of this? Why are you messing with me? None of it makes sense!” “Non sei ancora mio.” “I hate you.” I push him off me, but he continues to press his weight on me.

I can’t stand him anymore. How can I not stand someone so much, but want them so badly? “Don’t do that again,” he whispers into my ear, making my limbs melt into his arms. “I want you. Why don’t you want me?” “Tui hai torto.” He grins, tracing my jaw with his fingers. “Don’t. Tempt. Me.” He says not to do one thing, but it only makes me want to do the opposite. I know he feels something for me. He lifts the bottom of my dress up, exposing most of my leg more than it was before. I pull him back on me by the belt wrapped around his waist. His hand slams the wall above me. “Stop.” I contradict my own actions, begging for his lips to be pressed to mine. My family is one wall away, only making this more interesting. If anyone were to need to use the restroom, that would be the end of everything. His mouth buries into my neck as he exhales deeply. His hand ventures to the lace I am wearing underneath my dress. He pulls it aside, making my thighs feel weak. My fingers dig into his back through his shirt. “If you think I give a fuck about your virtue, think again.” It’s a good thing he doesn’t care. I breathe into his ear, releasing a small moan. His shoulders tighten. He pulls my thong to the side, and he slips a finger inside me. My breaths fall out, labored, as he holds all my weight. “Fuck,” he murmurs, pushing further inside me. His other hand grabs onto my thigh, lifting it up. He pushes his upper body onto mine. He pushes another finger inside me while his thumb moves in circular motions on my clit. My chest feels tight, and my head falls back, welcoming everything he’ll give me. “Not like this.” His voice sounds husky. Not like what? “Isn’t this what you wanted?” I ask. He lets me go, pulling my dress back down. His head is shaking back and forth as if he wants to go against his words.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I will talk to you how I want, Gio. That’s the greatest thing about having you wrapped around my finger.” His jaw tightens as his hands roam over his jaw to hide his smile. “Careful what you say to me, little one.” His words float in my head as I watch him walk back to the room full of my family. My hand rubs the spot on my neck where Giovanni’s lips were pressed to my skin. The spot is tender. I know exactly what that means. There is no way in hell I will be able to walk out there now, and he made sure of it. I pull my phone out of my purse. Me: Bring me a jacket, or a dress. Maybe a scarf. I don’t know, just come to the bathroom please. I hit send, and after a short minute, my sister walks in with a navy cardigan. I quickly grab it from her and put it on before she can ask any questions. “Oh, you did not,” she says as her hand slaps against her running mouth. “I did not!” “You so did.” “Ana, not right now.” “Yes, right now! Did he dump that on you?” Her eyes crease from the smile on her face. “Nina, you’re going to be in the doghouse.” “Yes, idiota, I know. Do you have concealer or anything?” “I do.” She grabs a small tube out of her bag, and I snatch it from her. “Was it the bartender?” I freeze as I look up at her. How did they not see everything that happened? Do I tell her the truth? I don’t say anything as I step toward the mirror, putting the makeup on my neck like a teenager hiding her mistakes from her parents. I can still feel every touch of Gio’s on my skin. What did he mean by he would make sure of it?

“No.” I finally reply to my sister. “Ana?” “What?” She looks scared by the sound of her name with a question attached. I dab the red spot on my neck, trying to cover it up. “What do you do when . . .?” I pause mid-sentence, trying to figure out how to explain this in a way she won’t be able to trace it back to the man responsible for the mark on my neck. “When you want a piece of chocolate but you’re a diabetic?” I want a man I can’t have. And now I sound freaking ridiculous trying to get an outsider’s opinion with a stupid analogy. What the hell am I even supposed to do now? “But Nina, you’re not diabetic.” “That’s not the point.” I huff. “Never mind.” “What’s going on?” “It’s nothing.” I put the concealer back in her bag. “Let’s go back to dinner.” OceanofPDF.com

I 16 GIOVANNI find the seat I left before I see the fucking bartender trying to flirt with Nina. Amber sits next to me, her eyes filled with questions I really don’t have the patience for right now. Amber wore the most stupid fucking dress I have ever seen, and of course, Nina had to wear the most beautiful one. I made sure I ruined it because I don’t want her to wear that shit again, tempting other men. The way her soft skin feels like fire against mine . . . Ana leaves the table in a hurry, and I know exactly what for. I made sure Nina won’t be able to walk back out here. I can’t have her near me; I lose my control. The way she calls me “Gio . . .” No one does that anymore, only her. My mother used to call me that all the time as a child. I close my eyes as the thought of her clouds my mind. I need to remember what I came here for, and why I am still here. I lie on my stomach, trying to look through the vent to make sure my mom hasn’t gotten into a situation she’ll be helpless in. The men at the door are wearing all-black, with guns three times the size of mine. As if my mom is the most dangerous person in the world. “Puoi aiutarci con qualcos’altro,” one of the men says, pulling on my mom’s hair. I knew exactly what they mean by that—they’re threatening to touch my mom without her consent. My father’s words fill my head instantly. Rule number two: never touch another man’s wife, or you will die.

Does this mean I need to kill these men? My hands begin to shake, just like my mother’s did only a moment ago. I close my eyes as the men argue over her. My mind goes blank when a gunshot fills the house like a firework on New Year’s Eve. The realization of what just happened sends a wave of shock straight to my heart, turning it black. “Andiamo!” one of the men says to the other, leaving him behind. There is only one man. I could crawl out of my hideout and do exactly what he did to my mom. And I do. “Giovanni?” Amber pulls me out of my own poisoned mind. I look down at her. Her filled-in eyebrows frown at me. “What?” “I asked you when you wanted to leave.” “I’ll drop you off whenever you want to leave.” “Can we go now?” “Sure.” She gets up from her seat, not even saying thank you to the man who bought everyone dinner and drinks. As she walks out the door, I say goodbye to everyone. I walk over to Rolando and pat him on the back. “Thanks for having us.” “It was my pleasure. Are you heading back to our house, or are you going back to your place?” “I’ll probably stop by for a bit. I’m heading to Sicily tomorrow.” He takes a sip of his drink and slams it on the table. “Well, young man. It was a pleasure to have you stay with us.” He gets up out of his seat and gestures for my hand. I reach mine out and shake his. I didn’t get what I came here for. I wanted his phone, but Nina never gave it to me. I got too distracted with her. She took up too much of my time. I can’t keep shirking off my duties in Italy. I’ll be showing up empty-handed. “I should be back in a week’s time. You’re not done with me yet.” I laugh. “Son, you are welcome anytime. Do bring your father here sometime— he and I need to catch up.” My tongue rolls over my teeth as I respond with a nod.

No fucking way. As I walk toward the exit, Carlo waves his hand at me. The kind of wave that tells me he needs to talk. I wait in the entrance of the restaurant, watching Amber from the window. She sits in my car waiting patiently. Carlo walks toward me with a napkin still tucked into the collar of his shirt. “You are leaving tonight?” His face shows he understands why. “Yes. I need to sort some shit out with my father.” I roll my eyes. “Keep an eye on Nina while I’m gone? Enzo will be coming with me, and I don’t trust anyone else to watch over her but you and Max. I don’t think Kirill is here anymore, but just in case.” “You got it, cousin.” I nod as I open the doors, walking toward my car. The air is beginning to get colder, and the wind brushes through my hair as I open the car door. Amber’s face is filled with nothing but lust. I don’t even know why I brought her tonight. Ever since I felt even a drop of attraction for Nina, I haven’t been able to think about any other woman. Shit pisses me off. Amber tugs at the bottom of my tie, and the only thing I can think of is how Nina did that when I took her out of the club that one night. The little woman has taken over my fucking mind. “We can go to my place.” She doesn’t suggest it; she just says it. “Not tonight.” I start my car and shift it into drive to drop her off. This is the last time I ever want to see her. She made me look weak when she tried to steal my money a couple weeks ago. At the Romanos’ house, I find Nina in the library working on the painting. I lean against the fresh doors, watching her paint elegantly. I love that she has hobbies and doesn’t care what other people think about them. Her mama probably loves that she paints. She must have learned to do it while she lived in Paris because her papa likes to bring up how it’s nonsense and a waste of time and money.

Her long hair falls down her back, moving softly with the motion of her hand. “Hey,” I say softly, hoping not to scare her like I did before. She turns her head and looks at me with a smile. “Hi.” “You’ve gotten pretty far with the painting.” “You think so?” She tilts her head, trying to get a different perspective. “What’s your favorite part?” I walk toward her slowly and position myself on the floor with her. She sits in front of me, her legs balled up near her chest. “The willow tree,” I say, moving her hair to the side of her body, away from her back. She’s wearing black shorts that are longer this time. Her top is loose with a subtle rib texture. She takes a deep breath and holds it the moment my fingers brush through her hair. “What’s your favorite part?” She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even continue to paint. She turns away from her work and looks at me, her eyes unable to pick a spot on my face to look at. “The willow tree too.” I pick her chin up with my hand, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes fall to my lips. I take my hands off her and reach for something I placed behind me before sitting down with her. “Pick a hand.” Curiosity gets the better of her as her eyebrows press together, forming a deep crease in her forehead. “What do you mean?” “I mean left or right, Nina.” “Hmm.” Her back stiffens, unable to figure out what she will get if she finally picks a hand. “I think I am going to go with the right?” “Don’t answer my question with a question,” I say with a laugh that feels genuine. A laugh I haven’t felt joy from in a while. “Okay. Right.” I nod as I bring out a box wrapped in dark blue paper. “Happy birthday.” Her lips open in shock. As if I’d forget her birthday. She shakes her head as she opens the gift.