I eyed the flimsy screen across the room. I’d found it at a garage sale and begged Gio to buy it for me. He’d blushed a billion shades of red, mumbled out a sorry, since he’d been the last to walk in on me before dinner, and quickly handed the woman a hundred dollar bill.
She responded by trying to give him more stuff, which he took, because we were Italians, and gifts were like food; you accepted, you always accepted, even if you were full, you accepted.
Dante snapped his fingers in front of my face. “What? Huh? Did you say something?”
“No, but you did just spend the last thirty seconds gazing into thin air with your mouth wide open. Not a great look, Val.”
“Shut up.” I stood and shoved my hands against his bulky chest. “I really do need to change. Did you need something?”
“The pig.” Dante’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “It is not big enough! We will run out of food!” He mimicked Gio’s voice perfectly. “I’ve been sent to get another.”
“Nooo!” I wailed. “He said only forty people.”
Dante snickered. “He lies, he always claims the family dinner will be small. Remember last week when he said he was inviting a few colleagues over?”
I shuddered. We’d had more than twenty men in suits dine with us. I hadn’t liked it. Papi had said they were old friends.
But none of them had looked friendly to me.
They seemed too… polished.
A few of them were young.
Too young.
Young enough to be my age, which was silly because, well, who was that successful at nineteen?
Their accents were funny as well.
Not quite Italian, not quite American… yet.
Not New York.
A mix of Chicago and Sicilian, I assumed.
“You’re doing it again,” Dante said in a bored voice. “I just wanted to warn you that this party’s about to get a little bigger. Oh…” He grinned and let out a low laugh. “Also, Nico just arrived, and he asked about his fiancé.”
I growled.
“Just think of all the tiny cologne babies you can have, I bet we can even find a few miniature suits. They’ll look just like their papa.”
“Out!” I shoved against his chest with a laugh. “And thanks for the warning.”
“Any time,” he called behind him as laughter erupted from downstairs. The party wasn’t even supposed to start for another half hour, but that’s how Italians were. They didn’t just come to the party on time, they came early to help. Meaning, they came early to drink wine, they came early to buy more wine, and they came early because they almost always brought enough food to feed a small country. Just a little something they cooked up just in case.
Just in case anyone starved.
It really was a miracle nobody had to push me around in a cart because of my inability to walk — I did enjoy my cannoli.
With one last look at the door, I rushed over to the pillow and tugged the papers out, slid them back into the envelop, then shoved them under my mattress, taking special care to cover the side of the bed with a blanket.
Nobody would look there.
Because I was little Val.
I didn’t take chances.
I didn’t hide things.
And I certainly didn’t live on the wild side.
“Valentina!” Sal called from downstairs. His yell was followed by loud laughter.
Sighing, I reached for my simple black dress and closed my eyes. I should have been thinking about rejecting Nico.
Instead.
My thoughts lingered on the pieces of paper.
And the mysterious prince.
Who had no flaws.
Yeah. Right.
Lord, what fools these mortals be! —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Sergio
I WAS SUPPOSED to look like Frank’s grandson.
Anyone would see through the lie in seconds. How stupid were his cousins? That’s what I wanted to know.
Ever since Andi’s death, I’d been working out harder, and had somehow managed to put on a few more pounds of muscle. Maybe it was because every night when I laid my head on the pillow… I still smelled her.
And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to remember her.
It was more this need to… actually sleep. Frank still commented on the dark circles as if I wasn’t painfully aware I resembled a zombie more than a human being.
My dark jeans hugged my legs as I tucked in the last of my white button-up and pulled my jacket tight around my body. My blue and black scarf wrapped twice around my neck, giving me a false sense of comfort. I hoped I looked approachable enough, because the only warning Frank had given me was that we were going to a party.
I asked if it was the type where we used guns.
And he only winced.
Which really couldn’t be a good sign.
“How long has it been?” I asked once we parked across the street, our black Mercedes blended in quite well with the rest of the Lincolns and Audis.
Frank frowned. “A while.”
“Well, that’s descriptive, thanks.”
He let out a low chuckle. “Just, don’t pull your gun. They’ll be offended.”
My eyes widened. “No shit? So if I pull a gun, I’m going to offend them, but they’re more than welcome to pull a gun on me?”
“You’ve been shot before.” He shrugged. “Just duck.”