“Red, I’m going to need you to keep your eyes closed for a minute longer, okay?” I tell her, giving Gio my most hateful look.
He has the decency to lower his eyes from mine, but still too proud to admit his stupid decision. He’s lucky that my only concern right now is Selene and our quick, undetected exit. We have to haul ass and get the fuck out of here, pronto. Pretty soon every made man here will head back to the main house, and if we’re not there before they arrive, they might figure out where we have been all this time.
“Okay,” Selene replies, not even giving me any lip.
She’s no fool. Even if she didn’t see that poor cazzo get sliced up, she knew his end was coming. And with all the noise the idiot made in his last minutes, I’m sure she has a great mental picture.
“Remind me to kick your ass, Giovanni,” I tell him, pissed off to no end that he put such an ugly picture in Selene’s head.
“Yeah, I won’t stop you,” he replies, looking sullen as shit.
“Help me with Selene, will ya?” I ask him, and Gio grabs her tiny waist up, placing her on my back. She grabs my shoulders with all her strength, and it tells me she, too, is ready to get the hell out of here.
“Remember, keep your eyes closed, Red. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to open them.”
I feel her nod. Poor thing is too upset even to speak.
Fucking Giovanni!
Yep! A definite ass-whooping is in order.
He’s just lucky I don’t know how to use a knife yet. But one day I will, and I’ll make sure shit like this doesn’t happen again. Even though this little scenario might have scared the bejesus out of Selene and put the fear of God into Gio, for me, it was exactly what I expected it to be—sans dead guy of course.
A life as a made man is a life of bloodshed, but it’s also a life of family and brotherhood.
A little blood doesn’t scare me any.
But a life without my brothers?
Without my family?
Without Selene?
That’s my real nightmare, and I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening.
THREE
Selene
Twelve years old
Once Gio and Dom brought me back to the main house, Mammà took one look at me and knew we had been up to no good. She made no attempts to ask us where we had gone to, and I was still too shook up to open my mouth to say a word. Not waiting for Papà to return, she told one of our guards that I was feeling indisposed and that we were heading back home without him. I didn’t need to have a crystal ball to know that Papà wouldn’t be pleased with either one of us for leaving without his consent. But if he took one look at my dirty dress and muddy flats, he’d be even more disgruntled for my despicable attire amongst so many of his friends and Big Sal’s party guests.
‘Pick your battles,’ Mammà always says. Funny thing is, I never see her win any.
“How do you feel, piccolina?” Mammà asks, tucking me inside my bed, after discarding my dress and giving me a warm bath to get some life back into my cold bones. I give her a weak smile, not having gained the courage to speak yet, but hoping it’s enough to keep her from asking any questions.
“Hmm. You and those boys always seem to find trouble together. If I knew you’d come back a scared ragdoll, I would have kept you at my side the whole night instead,” she mumbles with a frown.
I want to protest. Tell her it’s my fault since I was the one who made Gio and Dom take me to that godforsaken ceremony, but telling my mother where we were and what we saw might get me in deeper trouble than a dirty dress ever could.
“Want to share with me what you were up to tonight? I’m reluctant to ask since I didn’t see Vincent with you three. He usually knows his place and how to keep you all from doing anything foolish,” Mammà says softly, her eyes still gauging me for the truth while her fingers run tenderly through my hair.
Even though I usually tell Mammà everything, I keep mum as a church mouse. I know Mammà wouldn’t punish me as Papà would, but if I tell her what I saw, I can’t be sure she wouldn’t feel obligated to tell my father. Papà doesn’t tell us much about anything, but that doesn’t mean he will look the other way if he thinks we’re omitting something from him. My father, however, can have as many secrets as he likes. He sure didn’t tell us about the ceremony at Big Sal’s cabin tonight, now did he? If he has secrets, why can’t I have my own? Deciding to follow Mammà’s advice, I’m picking my battle and keeping my lips sealed, so a war doesn’t ensue.
“Nothing, huh? Okay then, piccolina. Sleep well,” Mammà coos, making her way to the door.
“Night, Mammà,” I whisper, which gets me a warm, bright smile from her before she leaves my room entirely and locks the door from the outside.
I hate when she does that, but unfortunately, anytime Mammà thinks my father will be in one of his more-unforgiving moods, she locks me in and hides away my bedroom key. I don’t tell her that I don’t think a locked door would keep Papà away from whipping my behind if he was really that inclined, but I guess Mammà thinks she can always dissuade him somehow. Although I hope she’s not the one who suffers in my stead, I highly doubt it.
“Geez, I thought your mother would never leave,” Gio hushes from the window sill, one foot already placed firmly on my white plush carpet.
“Gio, what are you doing here?! If any of Papà’s men see you, you’re in for a world of pain,” I jeer out, jumping from my bed and running to my window, making sure my arrogant, daredevil of a friend wasn’t sighted.
“Don’t worry, principessa. Those meatheads wouldn’t see me coming a mile away,” he jokes, jumping on my bed.
“Shhh, you fool. They may not have seen you, but if you don’t keep your voice down, they’ll hear you for sure. How did you get here anyway?” I ask, climbing back into my four-poster bed, seeking the warmth only my duvet can provide. Either it was Gio bringing the cold in with him when he opened the window, or I’m still chilled to the bone from tonight’s earlier events.
“Stole Vince’s bike and rode here.” He winks without any shame whatsoever.
“Oh yeah, I forgot you were spending the night at the Romano’s,” I murmur sullenly.
I never get to sleep over. Papà says it would look unseemly for me to do so. I don’t really see a problem, and I hate that I’m always the one left out and the boys get to have all sorts of fun without me. But from what I saw today, sleepovers will only be the beginning of how separate our lives will become.
“Are you going to make room for me, or what?” Gio challenges, wiggling his brows with a sly grin plastered on his face —too damn cute for his own good is what he is.
“Fine, c’mon, but shush you!” I quip, hiding the smile only Gio can bring out. I pat the bedspread beside me, which is all the invitation he needs to start taking off his shoes and climbing in next to me.