17. Christina
Christina
17
I feel him before I see him.
It’s Enzo. His presence is large and overwhelming. I’ve recently developed this interesting ability to sense them, whenever they’re nearby. It’s kind of unnerving.
Right now, I can tell he’s next to me, and that he’s radiating hostility.
Shit.
I inch backward, painfully aware of what happens to men who get too close to me around them.
Jimmy doesn’t understand.
He tries to come closer, and I push at his chest, warning him to back off.
“Christina,” Enzo says, interrupting us before Jimmy can move back to me. He doesn’t sound happy.
I cringe. Here we go.
Enzo steps right behind me and places his hand gently on my hip and pulls my back against his front. To an outsider, it might look merely like a protective gesture, but as my ass brushes against his cock, I know it’s anything but.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he says.
His fingers dig into the skin around my hips, and I have to resist the urge to wiggle against him.
Jimmy hasn’t done anything wrong. Not exactly.
Under different circumstances, I might have actually enjoyed his company. But I can tell our interests in one another are not the same. He hasn’t said anything weird, per se, but I’m getting a strange vibe from him.
I’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry with men.
“Come on,” Enzo says, firmly. It’s a command, but instead of bristling, I’m perfectly happy to follow. This time.
“Bye, Jimmy,” I wave.
Enzo practically drags me away and I have to focus on not stumbling over my feet. He guides us expertly through the crowd to our table.
I shiver from the sudden warmth of the room. And maybe in relief, too. At least I know what I’m getting into with Enzo and Nico.
But, as I gaze out at the expertly set table, I suddenly feel out of place. No one has briefed me on the expectations for manners here.
I’ve never been to an event this fancy.
Which fork do I use? What happens if I offend someone? What is more offensive to them: murder or lack of social grace?
It’s not until we’re next to the table that Enzo speaks again.
“Stay here,” he says, another order. “I’ll be right back.” He grumbles something beneath his breath as he walks away and I look back at him curiously.
People tend to react in one of two ways to Enzo. A large number avoid him, or even cower in fear when he approaches and others are visibly relieved when he passes.
It’s a strange thing to witness. But his brooding vibe also attracts a lot of attention. I don’t miss the way some women gaze after him longingly.
I straighten the napkin across my lap, mimicking the behaviors of those well-mannered people around me. Why so many forks?
The dining area is packed full of elegant people in black tie attire, and even though I’ve practically grown up in this town and around these people, I doubt any of this will ever feel normal. Or acceptable. Even now. Now that I’m a part of this… strange underworld.
Orchestral music plays softly in the background as the final guests filter into the room.
Enzo is the first to take his seat next to me. I school my face, but it’s hard to hide the fact that I’m grateful for him being next to me.
I’ve given up trying to deny it. Having him around makes me feel safer. More comfortable.
More excited.
My stomach grumbles, reminding me that it's been hours since I last ate. Getting into this dress took a long time and I didn’t want to risk spilling anything on it before I came.
“When’s dinner?” I ask, leaning over to ask Enzo. Most of the guests are seated now, but I don’t see any of the wait staff.
“Soon,” he says. He settles in next to me, leaning over to place a hand on my knee.
“Christina,” Nico says, bending down to give me a quick kiss on the forehead. “You look like an angel.” He scoots his chair towards the table. “But you always are.” His eyes shine with desire. It makes my core clench. I’m always so needy around them.
“Well, you don’t look so bad yourself,” I mumble, trying to avoid staring at him for too long.
It should be illegal to look that good. My God, he looks handsome. They both do.
My stomach flips as I look from him to Enzo and I can feel my face heat.
The things I’ve done with them.
Both of them.
They are going to be the death of me.
My mom and Albert take their seats, along with an older couple I only vaguely recognize.
I offer them a tight smile as I drink my water and pray that my lust isn’t visible on my face.
“Christina, you’re flushed,” my mother says, never missing anything.
I sink lower in my seat.
“Are you feeling alright?” She asks. Her gaze narrows on me.
I bring the glass of water to my lips and manage a weak smile.
Just fine, mom Everything’s normal here. Just trying to not think about fucking my stepbrothers… again.
The sip of water slips down my throat wrong and I cough uncontrollably, my eyes watering as Enzo pats my back and Nico’s hand slips along my thigh.
“I’m fine,” I say, weakly. I squeeze my eyes tight when Nico’s wandering touch latches onto a thigh and urges apart my legs. “My dress is really tight and I’m worried about spilling on it.”
“Mmmm,” she clicks her tongue, skeptical still. She’s far too observant for her own good.
“Plus, I’m super hungry,” I say as Nico’s fingers inch closer to my center while Enzo’s steady touch circles the bare skin exposed by the low back of my dress.
She might be my mother, but she’ll never understand… this. I sigh. Whatever this is.
Is this a bad decision? Probably.
A mistake. Clearly.
Is it an actual relationship? I don’t know. How would this even work? How would I even tell people? I imagine sitting my mom down and just casually… saying it?
Mom, I’m dating both of my stepbrothers.
I can’t say that out loud.
I can barely admit it to myself. I bite my lip.
I’m saved by the wait staff sweeping into the room with our salads before serving our entrees.
Thank God. I feel my body relax a little. The last thing I need in this scary new social scene is scandalous rumors or drama.
The waiters finally arrive at our table, setting down the delicate china, their movements synchronized like some beautiful dance.
I carefully balance a forkful of food into my mouth. I chose the lamb and I’m not disappointed. Dinner is delicious.
“How are you enjoying Millerton University?” Albert’s friend asks, filling the silence in between courses. “You’re a first year, is that correct?”
I pat my mouth with my napkin. That is a complicated question and I’m not sure how to answer it.
I decide to go with what I actually want. “I love learning,” I answer honestly, “And my goal is to eventually go on to law school,” I look over at my mother. “I hope.”
Albert’s friend smiles politely at me.
Just as fast as they appeared, the staff returns to clear our plates. Music begins to play in the background as people mingle and champagne is served.
I glance around. Now that people are moving about, maybe I can escape. Get some fresh air.
Clear my head.
I’m about to make my move when I notice a young woman draped in a gold silk dress approach Nico, two flutes of champagne in her slender hands.
Her narrow hips sashay easily through the crowd of people. God, she looks gorgeous.
The way the material flows across her silhouette is stunning.
I look down at my dress and compare myself to her. She matches Nico and Enzo’s beauty far better than I do. She’s otherworldly.
Doubt seeps into my brain, poisoning the cautious happiness I had allowed to bloom.
How could someone like me keep the attention of two Mafia men?
The golden goddess smiles and then carefully drapes herself over Nico, gracefully perching herself on his lap like she’s been there a million times before. He grunts in surprise but doesn’t throw her off. My anxiety hits the roof. She takes a sip of her champagne and hands the other glass to Nico.
“It’s been too long, Nico.” She croons.
My hands clench into fists in my lap when she glances over at me dismissively.
“Antonia, what do you want?” Nico says, with a sigh. She’s still sitting on his lap and it’s making me crazy.
The weight in my stomach doubles in size.
I don’t know whether I am going to faint or cry. Or maybe lash out.
“Christina, Angel,” Nico turns to me and hands me the champagne flute. “This is Antonia.
Daughter of Lorenzo Cossi.”
His eyebrows raise and he nods his head towards her slightly. I think he’s trying to give me a signal, but I don’t understand.
Cossi. The name sounds vaguely familiar but I wrack my brain and can’t come up with why.
“Nice to meet you,” I manage to stutter out as Enzo’s hand tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear at the same moment Nico twists my fingers entwined with his.
Heat creeps across my cheeks as Antonia’s eyes narrow and her gaze flickers over the touches of both men.
Oh God. She knows.
I squirm in my seat but neither man allows me to escape.
“Pleasure,” Antonia says. “And how do you know the Venittis?” Her eyes are piercing blue, the color seemingly able to look through me. Whatever she sees she doesn’t like.
“I, uh—”
“She is the future Queen of the Venitti empire,” Nico answers for me. He brings my hand to his lips, kissing me softly.
Oh, God.
Enzo drapes his arm around my shoulders.
“I’m not a Venitti,” I whisper as quietly as I can, so just the guys hear me.
It’s true, I’m not. My name is legally Christina Navoli, and there’s no reason to change it. It’s not like I’m a child.
“For now,” Nico says, his voice low and commanding.
I shiver. The heat from their bodies radiates through their touch. It pools in my stomach, turning my insides upside down at their blatant display of affection.
Our parents could see, I want to scream.
They could literally look over at any moment. Anyone could.
But it doesn’t seem to deter either of them.
“Oh,” she says, not bothering to hide her disdain. “How charitable! I heard that your father married a poor single mother, but I didn’t know that he was going to claim the poor girl as his own. How sweet!”
She turns to me, her eyes icy. “Pass on my congratulations to your mother, darling. It’s clear she has…skills… if she was able to lock down Albert Venitti and convince him to take on a fatherless brat too. But, then again, maybe she’s taught you too.”
I gasp. Did she just… call my mother and I whores? Nico’s face looks stormy.
“Watch yourself,” he growls at her, pushing her off his lap.
My first instinct is to recoil in my chair, and my second instinct is to hide.
But that’s not an option anymore.
So, finding my bravery, I lean into Enzo’s touch and use him as a safety net. With him touching my back, I feel strong enough to make eye contact and not look away.
I might not be a Venitti, but I sure as fuck won’t be made to feel less than them.
“How… charitable.” She gives a tight smile. “Nico, Enzo,” she says, ignoring me completely as she turns to walk away.
I inhale sharply as I watch her walk back to her table.
“It’s okay, Angel, breathe.” Nico’s grip on my hand grounds me to the moment but Enzo’s grip on my thigh threatens to take me away again.
I down the champagne in one gulp, setting the empty glass on the table and gesturing at our parents. “We need to be careful.”
“No. What we need,” Nico says, leaning in, his voice a low rumble against my skin, “is to make this official.”
Is he crazy? How on earth are we going to do that? What does that even mean?
I exhale and give him the side eye. So much for the comfort I had just found.
Nerves coil in my stomach and I suddenly need to be away. I stand abruptly, shaking off Enzo’s hand.
“Where are you going?” He asks.
“Bathroom,” I say, lifting the skirt of my dress and hurrying away.
I don’t take another breath until the bathroom door closes behind me. Thankfully, there’s an empty stall and I hurry inside and turn the lock. It’s the first time all evening that I’ve felt safe.
My mind is a jumble of confusion. I don’t know what to do.
I know I’ve started to feel things for both of them. I certainly crave their touch. Their protectiveness makes me feel safe.
What am I going to do?
This is a recipe for disaster.
It takes me a few minutes to regain my composure. Finally, I feel like I’m in control enough to leave. I exit the stall, moving to the sink to wash my hands. I’m so focused on my task that I don’t immediately notice the woman next to me until she clears her throat.
“Oh, hi,” I say, looking up to see Antonia sneering down at me.
She steps forward, her heels clacking on the tile floor.
“You’re a whore, just like your mother,” she says, matter-of-factly, as she reapplies her red lipstick in the mirror. “Did she teach you all her tricks?” She smacks her lips together and pulls back, pleased with her appearance.
“Those boys might use what you have to offer, but you’ll never be more than their little plaything. By the time they are done with you, you’ll be used up and worthless. Hell, they may even give you to their men.” She turns to face me. “That’s what happens to girls like you. Little opportunists who think they can rise above the dirt they were born in. You’re good for one thing and one thing only honey, and they don’t have a long attention span. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
I stare at her in shock. Anger bubbles in my chest.
I want to lash out – to tell her she’s wrong. But I choke down the words. I won’t give her the satisfaction.
Sure enough, when I’m silent, her features tighten - her beautiful face looking grotesque.
“They’ll never choose you.” She says, darkly. “Neither of them. My father will make sure of it.”
I shrug and wash my hands. I know my plan is working when she huffs angrily and bumps my shoulder as she pushes past.
I wait to exhale until I hear the door swing shut behind the click of her heels.
My insecurities come rushing at me like a tidal wave as her words repeat over and over in my head.
I lean over the sink, clutching the porcelain like a lifeline. As much as I try, I can’t stop the tears. Once I start, they come hard and fast.
My tears have completely ruined my makeup, making me look just as pathetic as I feel.
I wipe at my face, trying to fix it, but I only succeed in making my cheeks look raw and red.
Just great.
In a last-ditch effort to save my appearance, I splash some cold water on my face, and hope for the best.
I look like I’ve been crying. They’re going to be able to tell. My shoulders shudder a little bit but I sigh and push out the door.
Jimmy catches me almost immediately when I rejoin the party. He comes rushing over, concern etched on his face.
“Hey,” he says as I head back to the table, grabbing my hand. “You alright?” He asks.
He tugs my hand and I realize that he’s leading me away from the direction of the tables.
I glance over my shoulder, hoping to see Enzo or Nico come for me, but they don’t. I don’t see them anywhere.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say quietly since he’s not listening anyway. “Someone just said something mean in the bathroom.” I add, admitting the truth.
“That’s because they’re jealous.” He states this, matter-of-factly.
I smile despite myself, and he catches it.
“You can’t blame them,” he continues, dipping his head lower. “Look at you. If I were Antonia, I’d hate you too.” He winks.
My heart warms a little.
“You know I’m right.”
I shrug, hating to admit that his words have made me feel a little better.
“Come on, let’s make her really jealous. Dance with me.”
The dance floor is packed. People laughing and swaying in time to the music. Their faces alight with fun and a sense of carefree presence I don’t seem to possess.
He takes my hands in his, positioning our bodies. “Follow my lead.”