It wasn’t his attention that energized me.
The source of my intoxicating rush was far more concrete. I derived my excitement from the small silver lighter clasped in my right hand—the one I’d swiped from the table ledge and was now depositing into my black velvet clutch purse.
How long would it take for the man to notice his lighter was gone? Would he suspect me as a thief or assume he’d left the trinket somewhere else earlier in the day? The threat of discovery and impending uncertainty made my veins course with liquid energy. The high was so addicting, I’d been hooked from the first time I’d stolen back when I was a teen.
The handsome stranger was far from my first victim.
The urge to pocket other people’s possessions didn’t hit me all that frequently, but when it did, the need was overwhelming. The items were usually inconsequential trinkets—nothing of any real value—but they were always personal to the owner. Something representative of who they were. Something they would notice was missing but wouldn’t be apt to call the police over.
I’d always thought my twisted proclivities meant something inside me was broken. My saintly mother was the perfect Catholic, active in the church and a staunch enforcer of its ideals. My two younger sisters rarely stepped out of line. Camilla was fresh out of college and advancing in her career, and Valentina was a straight-A student with Ivy League schools clamoring to recruit her.
I never made it past high school.
What was the point? My family’s money meant I never had to work, so why waste my life behind a desk? I didn’t want an average, boring existence, but I also hadn’t figured out what that meant. I wasn’t bohemian enough to want to backpack across Europe. I didn’t have a particular desire to risk my life for short-term thrills such as bungee jumping or skydiving. So where did that leave me?
I’ll tell you. It left me feeling like something was wrong with me until about five months ago when I learned my father was a high-ranking member of the mafia. The puzzle pieces of my life suddenly rearranged and made a coherent picture. I wasn’t a freak.
Being a criminal—a deviant, even—was in my blood.
Not surprisingly, I craved more than two-point-five kids and a membership to the Y. I was made for a different life than most normal people. I just wasn’t sure what exactly that meant yet. Fortunately, I had all the time in the world to figure it out, and in the meantime, I had my sticky fingers to entertain me.
When I learned about my father’s real job, I’d considered coming clean and telling him about my dirty little habit but decided against it. Shame wasn’t the reason I kept my lips sealed. Who were my parents to judge my crimes when their own actions were undoubtedly far more nefarious than my own? At least, that was true for my father. My mother’s greatest sin was likely limited to turning a blind eye to whatever my father was involved in. They had no grounds to be upset, but I was unwilling to tell anyone because the key component of my chosen vice was secrecy. Where was the thrill if others knew what I was doing? Every theft was a treasured memory, and I lorded over each with great relish.
Nobody was perfect.
Maybe that was why I felt at home in Vegas.
Sin City, home of the morally corrupt and misguided.
I visited every chance I could get, so when my best friend and cousin, Alessia, announced that she’d gotten engaged on her birthday, I decided a celebratory girls’ trip was in order. Plus, it was Halloween, and I’d never done Halloween in Vegas.
It had more than lived up to my expectations.
Alessia hadn’t been easy to convince since our last girls’ trip had only been a couple of months prior, but she always gave in to me in the end. It was why we worked so well together. My younger sisters, Camilla and Valentina, were far easier to convince. In a matter of days, we had our bags packed and were off for a weekend of female bonding.
The first girls’ trip we’d taken had included the four of us plus Alessia’s two sisters, Maria and Sofia. This go-round, Maria was pregnant and had deemed Vegas pointless if she couldn’t drink. I didn’t blame her. Vegas wasn’t the same without a steady flow of alcohol thinning your bloodstream. Sofia had just returned from her honeymoon and wasn’t up for another trip. Despite our smaller numbers, we’d had an amazing weekend and were winding down on our final night, watching high rollers at the craps tables and playing the occasional hand of blackjack.
“Hey, ladies! Have any luck while I was gone?” I rejoined my girls with a genuine, beaming smile.
“We were until Camilla had Alessia split her hand, then double down, and she lost most of her stash,” Val informed me.
“You make it sound like it was my fault she lost the money,” Cam shot back at her.
“I told you to never split sixes.”
“You couldn’t have known for sure what would happen. That’s why it’s called gambling. There’s always a chance we could have won.”
“If you ever want to beat the house, you have to stack the odds in your favor. If you’re going to play, play to win.” Val was showing signs of becoming a real badass woman. We didn’t hang out often because of our six-year age difference, but I would have to remedy that.
“How do you know all that?” Alessia asked.
Val’s lips curved into a smug grin. “I studied the game before we came. Last time, I had no clue what I was doing, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.” Something told me Val might make a formidable enemy, and I was suddenly glad we were family.
Cam raised a brow. “Some of us aren’t always looking for a safe bet. Some of us like to take a chance.”
“So says the banking expert who dots every I and crosses every T,” I muttered. I couldn’t imagine she’d ever taken a chance on anything risky in her entire life, aside from a brief period during high school when she threw around a healthy dose of attitude. Since then, she’d been a model daughter and somewhat hard for me to relate to.
Alessia was also a perfectionist, but that didn’t seem so off-putting from someone who wasn’t my sister. I didn’t have to hear my mother rub in my face how perfect Alessia was at every opportunity.
“All right, ladies. Let’s not end our trip fussing at each other. A couple of hundred dollars isn’t going to break the bank. Our dinner reservation is in twenty minutes, so let’s head to the restaurant. It’ll probably take that long to find the damn place from here.” Al was the peacemaker, regardless of what group she was among. That quality, more than anything, was why we’d been so close for so long. She indulged my every whim, and I was happy to let her. Our dynamic was also good for her. If it weren’t for me and my initiative, she’d never have had any fun at all.
With my loving guidance and reassurance, she was now engaged to a capo in the mafia—a turn of events I never would have imagined possible for my naïve, idealistic cousin. I was thrilled she’d found such happiness and had been brave enough to embrace our family’s way of life. There was a time I thought she might cut and run from it all, but she didn’t. She stuck around and was more entrenched in the life than ever.
It was amazing the difference six months had made. All three of my cousins were engaged or married. I could only hope the situation wasn’t infectious as I had no desire to commit myself to a man at this stage in my life. I hungered for far more temporary, thrilling encounters.