Vicious Desires (The Next Vicious Generation #4)

Prologue

Stella

I love my life. I really do.

But sometimes… I fucking hate it too.

Like right now.

“Wow, Stella!” Annamaria practically squeals beside me, her blue eyes shining as she studies my reflection in the full-length mirror. “You look… stunning.”

I smooth my hands over the burgundy velvet dress clinging to my curves, trying—but failing—to muster the same enthusiasm.

“It’ll have to do, I guess.”

A frustrated sigh escapes me as I turn away from the flawless stranger staring at me through the mirror.

“You don’t look pleased about it?” my sister asks softly, her radiant smile fading from view.

I ignore the concern in her voice, pretending I didn’t hear her ask such a ridiculous question. Instead, I act preoccupied, searching for a pair of diamond earrings to match the outfit as if I would actually care about such things.

Besides, what would my answer even be?

I’m as happy as I can be, knowing I’ll have to spend the night rubbing shoulders with Chicago’s elite at some fancy fundraiser just so the Romano name keeps its squeaky-clean shine for the rest of the world.

Honestly, I’d rather spend my Friday night tagging along with Marcello, caught up in whatever mess our father roped him into, than pretend to be a goddamn lady all night.

Rubbing elbows with the one-percenters isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, and the thought of smiling through a whole evening with our city’s so-called cream of the crop makes my skin crawl.

Still, sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. And by ‘greater good,’ I mean not pissing my mother off.

Selene Romano is the pebble in my shoe and the voice of reason I need to silence if I’m ever going to have the future I’ve envisioned for myself.

You’d think earning my father’s approval and getting him on board with my plans would be priority number one.

But you’d be wrong. When it comes to his children, Vincent Romano only listens to one counsel—his wife.

My mother. Which means that sometimes I have to dress up like a doll and play nice just to get on her good side. Ugh.

“Anna, do me a favor and help me put my hair up. I need to tame it into a bun to look… presentable,” I say, the word tasting like ash on my tongue as I turn back to my reflection.

“I think it’s perfect the way it is,” Anna coos, resting her chin on my bare shoulder and catching my gaze in the mirror. “Wild and free is your trademark. Why mess with perfection?”

My heart swells at my sister’s words, coaxing out the only genuine smile I’ll probably manage tonight.

Anna always knows what to say to make me feel better about parading myself like this.

Lord knows she’s had more experience in this department than I have.

She’s been accompanying Mom to these charity balls since she was thirteen.

I only come when Mom or Dad needs the added weight of family on such occasions.

Marcello always gets to skip because, well…

it’s better for everyone that he does. His dead eyes and glare aren’t the best conversation starters.

With Jude living in London, he has the perfect excuse for not attending.

And the twins are too much of a loose cannon not to fuck shit up just for the hell of it.

Which leaves Annamaria. And, of course, me.

Fuck my life.

When I catch sight of my sister in the mirror, seeing how happy she is that I’m tagging along tonight, a little of my resentment for having to attend this shindig melts away.

If I hate socializing with strangers, then Anna absolutely loathes it.

She hates parties of all kinds, preferring to spend her free time either reading, playing piano, or just daydreaming of a life that isn’t hers.

Guilt gnaws at me for not being more sensitive to her plight. Here I am, aggravated that I have to attend some stupid ball, when this is her norm. Where I use my voice to make my will known, uncaring of what hell I might raise, Anna silences hers just to make peace.

“You look beautiful, too.” I smile at her, noticing how the golden highlights in her hair catch the light, her French braid pulled back, elegantly framing her face.

“No, I don’t.” Her cheeks flame crimson, lowering her eyes from mine, uncomfortable with such praise.

If Anna only knew her worth. My sister is the true beauty in our family. Aside from her looking like God carved her out of angel dust, her heart is as pure as that of a saint.

Me, not so much. I couldn’t be as subdued and selfless if my life depended on it. Not that it has ever been an issue between us. We might be polar opposites, but if there is one person who knows my heart, it’s her.

A soft knock at the door snaps our attention toward it, revealing our mother standing in the doorway. Her red hair is swept into a low bun, a few loose curls catching a sparkle in her green eyes, while her emerald dress highlights her best features with effortless grace.

Say what you will about my mother, but she is the epitome of elegance and sophistication. Selene Romano turns heads everywhere she goes. Even close to the big five-O, she can still put most twenty-year-olds to shame.

“You girls look lovely,” she coos, taking a few steps inside, her gaze glinting with love and approval.

I wish the pride in her eyes didn’t irk me so, but it does.

“Thank you, Mammà,” Anna sheepishly replies. “Doesn’t Stella look absolutely breathtaking?” my sister adds, forcing my mother to take in every inch of the lie she wished was true.

The vision before her is exactly the type of daughter my mother always wanted—beautifully kept, softly spoken, and immaculately well behaved. The true definition of an Outfit princess.

While Anna fits the bill perfectly, even at fifteen, I do not.

You can put me in a fancy dress and drown me in diamonds, but my spirit will always refuse to be caged.

And this right here, having to pretend to be something I am not, feels like a prison.

One that I don’t intend to stay locked in for long.

When my mother is met with nothing but a scowl on my lips, the light in her eyes dims, and a part of me almost feels guilty for causing it.

Though I should be used to it by now. My unruly attitude has always been the bane of my mother’s happiness.

“Yes, she does.” She smiles at us both, though it never meets her eyes. My chest constricts as I watch her pluck out her jade earrings from her lobes, and then grab my hand to place them into my palm. “These will look much better on you than they ever did on me.”

I fist them in my hand, my scowl deepening, as her smile fades further.

“We leave in five minutes. Your father and I will wait for you downstairs.” With no further word, she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Anna tries not to look at me accusingly, but I see how I’ve displeased her, too.

“Just say it, Anna. I already know what you’re thinking.”

“Then if you already know, what’s the point of me saying anything at all?”

“Whatever,” I grumble, taking off the diamond studs and replacing them with my mother’s earrings like she wants. “Let’s just get this show on the road. The faster we do this, the faster I can get out of this dress.”

I don’t wait for my sister to reply and just rush out the door.

If I stayed a second longer, Anna would have played devil’s advocate, hoping her words of reason would persuade me to ease up on giving our mother such a hard time.

Though to be fair, I didn’t say anything at all just now.

But then again, I don’t need to say much to be the bad guy in my mother’s eyes.

Even when I don’t open my mouth in defiance, my expression ends up saying it all.

What Annamaria doesn’t understand is that it’s because of our mother that I feel like my life is permanently on hold.

I’m positive that Dad would have let me be inducted into the Outfit by now if she hadn’t always been whispering in his ear that women have no place in the family business.

She might have failed to prevent Jude and Marcello from being inducted, but she still believes that she has a say when it comes to me.

Lord knows she has more than enough artillery to use against me in her favor.

In all its years, the Outfit has never allowed a woman to rise to made status.

The Syndicate doesn’t even let women serve as soldiers.

The closest a woman has ever come is as a low-level associate.

My father inducting me into the famiglia would set a precedent that would go against decades of tradition.

Even with such odds stacked against me, I still have hope that I can wear my father down. And if I can’t, then I’ll bide my time until Marcello takes his throne. My brother wouldn’t deny me. Jude, maybe. Not Marcello. There is only one caveat to this plan. And that’s the waiting.

I don’t trust that Marcello will become Capo Dei Capi anytime soon.

Maybe in fifteen years or even twenty, but not now.

And that’s a fucking lifetime away. By then, it won’t be the fact that I’m a woman that keeps me from being inducted.

It’ll be because I’ll be too old. A forty-something woman being made is an even more far-fetched scenario.

If my mom would just back me up… If she put herself in my shoes… If she only understood me… Then maybe I wouldn’t resent her so. And maybe if she didn’t expect me to be like Annamaria all the time, she wouldn’t resent me either.

As predicted, this fucking party is one hell of a boring snoozefest.