Ride or Die (Deny You #1)

Chapter 1

Rava

"Do I seriously have to spend my whole summer there?" I sound like I'm seconds away from flipping a table. Honestly, I don't even know why I'm asking. It's not like my family has ever cared about what I want.

They didn't before, they won't now, they're never going to.

If they could take my entire brain out and replace it with one of theirs, they'd do it with zero hesitation. Like whoop, problem solved, Rava upgraded to Family-Approved Edition.

"Rava, we've talked about this," my mom says, calmly. "This deal is the biggest one our family has ever negotiated. We need you there."

Nonsense. I roll my eyes, pacing across my apartment. It's always the same freaking script.

This is important, Rava. This is family, Rava. We need you, Rava. Translation: Cancel your plans, Rava. Forget what you want, Rava. Be a good little accessory to the empire, Rava.

Bend over so we can fuck you too, Rava.

"It's wild to me how everyone suddenly pretends they forgot what happened the last time we teamed up with Gio's family." I swear, they act like the past just... evaporates. I still remember the last time our families tried to work together, years ago. It was a freaking disaster.

"It's different this time, Rava. I promise. We made a huge deal. We won't mess up again. It's important, please don't make this hard. You're coming, okay?"

Sure. I'll come.

Crying. Jesus.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I will actually go. Not because I want to. Because I know myself. If I don't go, I will spend the next three months feeling like a shitty human being.

"Fine."

She softens immediately. "Great! Thank you, Rava. We really miss you here. And you have to save me from your siblings. They keep getting more and more annoying."

I smile at this. I miss Daisy and Jin.

"Oh, right! How's Sophia? Are you... still together?"

Oh, good. Sermon number two. Perfect.

Sophia. My girlfriend.

For... whatever amount of months we're pretending we've been normal. My family hates her without even meeting her.

'She looks snobbish,' they say.

'She's using you for your money,' they say.

Which is actually insane, because who the hell dates someone just for money?!

Like... hello? Are they saying I'm ugly? That I can't pull a girl on my own? Wait—did they mean that the whole time?!

Anyway. I clear my throat.

"She's fine. Yes, we're still together." Mom goes silent for a beat. "Well... would you be happier if she came here in Italy too? Ask her if she can. We will take care of everything."

Oh. Okay.

So she's good enough to judge from afar, but also good enough to sacrifice to the Gio-Fontana-Family-Circus? I rub my face. Sure. Let me just throw her in the deep end.

Like, 'Ay, Sophia, girl, follow me into this beautiful disaster we call a family. It'll be fun. No one cries on the first day.'

Yeah. This is gonna go great. "...Yeah, okay. I'll ask her. I'll go pack now... sorry for snapping." I end the call before she can say anything else. My whole summer, trapped in Italy with the Fontana family. Great. Just great.

Fuck me!

I let out a deep sigh and rub my forehead. I'm not saying I don't miss my family. I do. But if I'm trying to build my own life, shouldn't I be putting my future first? My choices? I'm already neck-deep in this company, more than I should be.

They have a handful of hotels across Europe, and one of them basically runs on me. And apparently... that's still not enough. I don't want more responsibility. I'm not signing up for another hotel, another family "favor" dressed up as an opportunity.

Because it's not my dream. It never was.

My dream, as stupid or soft or unrealistic as it sounds, is to be a teacher.

I love kids. I love learning. That's what I've been studying for years.

Education. Teaching. That's what I care about.

It isn't just a degree to me. It's mine.

Something I choose for myself, not something handed to me with a hundred expectations attached.

I want to be in classrooms, learning how to make a difference, how to help kids grow into people who actually feel seen.

I want to spend my time around people who care about things that aren't just money, power, and networking over overpriced dinners. Of course, my parents don't see any of this as something real.

To them it's just... a distraction.

A phase. Some temporary rebellion I'll "grow out of" once I get whatever is in my system out.

Especially to my dad. He thinks I'm wasting time. He thinks I'll wake up one morning, snap my fingers, and magically realize my "place" is back there. They keep waiting for the moment I'll "come to my senses."

Like wanting a different life is an illness I'll eventually recover from. Sometimes I swear they're watching me like I'm a toddler having a tantrum, waiting for me to stop crying and go pick up the responsibilities they decide are mine.

But that's the thing. I'm not confused. I'm not lost. And this isn't a phase.

They just can't handle the idea that the life they want for me isn't the life I want for myself. And I guess, to some extent... I played along. I never outright rebelled.

I never say the words they fear the most: I don't want this life.

Instead, I nod when I need to, pretend to be interested when they talk about "business opportunities," and make just enough effort to keep them from thinking I'm a lost cause.

But in reality? I don't give a single fuck. Not even a tiny bit.

Not about their company, not about the meetings, not about any of it.

I just want them off my back long enough for me to carve out my own path.

And now? Now I have to drop everything and fly back to Italy, because they have some huge deal that suddenly requires my presence.

I scoff under my breath, shaking my head as I pull the suitcase down.

And the part that pisses me off the most? It's not just some random agreement.

It's with Gio's damn family.

GIO'S. FAMILY.

Like... aren't our families supposed to hate each other?

Generational beef.

Cold wars, silent wars, loud wars—pick one.

I let out a long, exhausted sigh, and stare at my suitcase with my hand on my waist. Then I drop to the floor.

I hate this. I hate how, no matter what I want, I always end up doing what they expect.

I hate how I can fight so hard to have my own life, and yet, with one phone call, they can pull me right back in. And maybe what I hate the most?

A part of me still misses Italy.

No matter how much I try to distance myself from it, no matter how much I want to prove I don't need that world, it's still home.

But this summer? This summer is supposed to be mine. And now, just like that, it isn't.

I toss another shirt into my suitcase, barely caring if it lands folded or not. Let my clothes suffer like I'm about to.

Years ago, we tried "collaborating" with the Fontanas. It was a disaster from the first meeting.

They wanted to invest in our hotels, and my dad shut down every single suggestion like they were asking him to sacrifice his firstborn. Just because he needed more and more money.

The Fontanas wanted a more traditional vibe.

My dad wanted... whatever he wanted, probably the opposite, purely out of spite.

I swear, from what I remember, they were this close to actually ripping each other's hair out.

And yet, here we are.

Another deal. Another attempt at a partnership.

What the hell kind of agreement did they strike this time?

Now... Gio.

God, don't even get me started.

Thank God he's abroad too, and I won't have to deal with his ass, either. That son of a bitch made my life a living hell back then.

I scoff under my breath, shoving a pair of shoes into the suitcase with more force than necessary.

Gio had always been a smug little asshole, and I'd never liked him.

He never liked me. Not even a little.

And he made sure I knew it every damn day. He wouldn't leave me alone, which is insane, because if you hate someone that much, wouldn't you ignore them?

But no. Gio Fontana was built differently. Annoying on a spiritual level. Whenever I talked about the things I cared about, like astronomy, the books I loved, how I wanted to be a teacher—he and his pack of jackals would laugh.

Mock me. Turn literally whatever I said into a joke for their amusement. Especially Gio. I have never met anyone that full of himself.

Ever.

The guy walked around like he was God's favorite problem. The only way to shut him up, or ironically, get his attention, was to yell BIKES straight in his face.

Instant reaction.

Like you pressed a button on a very expensive, very irritating robot. He genuinely believed being pretty, automatically made him better than all of us. Which is hilarious.

In a depressing way. The last clear memory I had of him was from when I was eleven or something.

Gio and the rest of his idiot crew were twelve, riding around on their little fake motorbikes with those stupid plastic helmets, pretending to be mafiosi while I stood off to the side, trying to convince my mother that we needed to leave.

That was eleven years ago. Then he left the country.

His dad died. I don't remember why or how.

He didn't want to live with his mom or something like that, so he went to Spain to live with his father's family. For years, literal years, I thought about checking his social media. Just to see what happened to him.

If he's alive, dead, in jail, married, missing, bald, anything.

But I never did it. Because it felt like the second I typed his name, he'd somehow know. Like he'd pop out of the screen, smirk, and roast me from whatever dimension he lives in.

I am twenty-two now.

He is twenty-three.

People change. He could be completely different.

Right?!

Especially after a loss like this.

He could have matured, grown up, let go of whatever bullshit he used to pull.

Hell, maybe he didn't even remember me.

Whatever the case is, fortunately I don't have to give a damn.

Cause he won't even be there.

2) Finally, Home

Rava