“Your father is going to be busy for an hour or so, which means he won’t be checking on you anytime soon. If you promise to be good, to neither get in any trouble nor dirty up your dress, I don’t see the harm in you having a bit of fun with your friends,” she explains in a hushed breath.
I clasp my arms around her waist, ecstatic that I no longer have to stay at the stuffy party, and thrilled to be able to enjoy myself with my best friends this evening, even if just for a short period.
“Thank you, Mammà,” I gush out, feeling my whole body alight with joyous energy. I hear my mother chuckle at my glee, and she gives me a quick kiss on my forehead.
“Go and play with your friends, figlia, but be back in thirty minutes just in case your father returns sooner than expected,” she warns in a low tone.
I nod in understanding, promising to be back on time without fail, since I wouldn’t be the only one punished by my father if he found out Mammà had let me leave the party without his consent. Although I doubt my mother is able to escape his wrath tonight either way. Every time we come to the Romano house, Papà always seems to find an excuse to hurt Mammà when we return home. He’s always adamant that both of us should act as proper Italian ladies, but somehow, we always fall short of his expectations. Mammà is the epitome of elegance and poise, yet in social gatherings like these, Papà is never happy with how she behaves, always finding fault in the littlest of things. Of course, even when there is nothing he can point the finger at, he still has me and my restlessness as his backup reason to ensure my mother’s discipline by his hand before the night’s end.
I bite my inner cheek, not wanting to think of such things, and instead focus on the half hour reprieve Mammà gave me. I run out to where Gio and Dom were a minute ago, but don’t see them anywhere. The only people still on the patio are four men dressed in suits, smoking cigars and barely talking to one another. I pass them by, and one of them gives me a little wave, while the others ignore me completely, just like the men at my house in similar garb and armament do.
I run past the fountain as best I can without dirtying up my ballet flats too much and see the tip of Dom’s dirty blond head walking further into the forest to the side of the house. Mammà didn’t say anything about not leaving the patio, but I hope wherever my friends are going isn’t too far, especially since the sun is setting and soon it’ll be too dark to see our way back. The Romano estate is ludicrously massive, and anyone could easily get lost if they don’t know their way around it—which I don’t.
I only have two options.
Either run after my friends before I lose sight of them completely or walk back to the party defeated and endure another tedious evening of cheek pinching when my presence is acknowledged, followed swiftly by the inevitable low whispers of adult talk, utterly disregarding my existence altogether.
“Dom! Gio! Wait up,” I yell, holding the tulle dress up from around my shaky knees as I speed up my pursuit
“Jesus, Selene, you scared the fuck out of me! Just what do you think you’re doing?” Dom yells back, stopping in his tracks the minute he hears my voice.
“Don’t curse, Dominic. I know you think it makes you sound cool, but it only makes you sound like a big, ignorant gorilla,” I scold, but my smile is too wide for him to take me seriously.
“Yeah, yeah. Still didn’t answer my question, though. What are you doing out of the house?”
“Following you guys, of course,” I reply with a patronizing grin at Dom’s obvious question.
I add a little snicker when I see he still doesn’t have the bowtie Gio stole from him. Dom is big for a thirteen-year-old, making most boys his age—and maybe even older—think twice before messing with him. But although Gio is my age and much shorter than Dom, he’s still quick on his feet and never one to miss an opportunity to play tricks on any one of us, without exception. Tonight, Dom seems to have had his fill of Gio’s roguish pranks.
“Go back to the party, Red, before you get yourself in trouble,” Dom replies, his arms crossed over his chest imposingly.
When I cross my arms to mimic his pose, Gio chuckles beneath his breath, and Dom stares daggers at him, even though it’s my reluctance to do as he says that really infuriates him. But Dom would never make such a mean face to me. He knows full well that, even though he’s bigger, it doesn’t scare me one bit. He might be taller than any one of us, but his face is by far the prettiest of us, too. Probably prettier than most girls back at school, if I think about it, so for all his size and scowls, it’s hard to be intimidated by such a baby-smooth, angelic face with clear blue eyes to match.
“I mean it, Selene. You shouldn’t be here,” he scoffs, frustrated at not being able to scare me off.
“But I want to stay. It’s boring back there. Everyone either ignores me or treats me like I’m some kind of doll,” I mumble, exasperated.
“Well, you kind of look the part. A true principessa if I ever saw one. All you need is a little tiara, and you’re all done. I doubt anyone would ignore you then,” Gio taunts, pinching my left cheek mockingly.
I smack his hand away, and he continues to snicker. If Dom is a golden angel, then that would make Gio his definite dark counterpart. He’s the perfect definition of Italian good looks, with dark-brown curls, darker eyes, and smooth olive skin that could only be a product of Sicily’s finest. Not to mention his devilish grin lights up every time he’s doing something he shouldn’t, and with Gio, that’s usually all the time.
“Be quiet the two of you,” Vincent reprimands, suddenly appearing next to us, running his hands through his slick, russet hair, pushing it away from his hazel eyes, which look less than pleased to see us.
Gio winks at me cheekily and places his index finger over his lips, making me giggle at how he doesn’t seem at all intimidated by the brooding Vincent. If Dom is an angel, and Gio the little devil I know him to be, then Vincent is no doubt the god that rules our little group; and lately, he’s been on a real power kick.
“I have to go in. Pietro is there already, and if I take any longer, Uncle Sal is going to be pissed. Dom, deal with this and remember to make sure no one sees you,” Vincent informs Dom, giving us three a side-eyed glance before running deeper into the forest.
I hate it when Vincent gets this way; all authoritarian and cold. I hate it even more so when he acts as if I don’t even exist. Ever since he turned thirteen, he acts like he’s all that and then some. He’s only one year older than me, and in the same grade, I might add, so in my book that doesn’t really count. And now Dom is always doing what he orders him to, like whatever Vincent says is law. It pisses me off to no end. Gio, though, is still like me, unimpressed with Vincent’s new personality trait. We aren’t in a rush to grow up and take orders if we don’t have to. We know exactly what awaits us, so we’re more than happy to live free for as long as it’s allowed.
“Okay, you heard him, I’m taking you back to the party, Selene,” Dom says, grabbing my wrist gently, but still forceful enough that I have no option but to follow him.