Chapter 1 Contessa
Contessa
Three years earlier
Fed’s talking to me but I’m not listening. I’m watching Nike-clad feet move effortlessly across the screen, each beat funneling a wave of energy up the dancers’ legs, where it embraces strong thighs and loose hips, glides along graceful arms and seeps into liquid eyes.
There it is. That feeling of being one with the music—with the beat.
When I see that kind of harmony, I can’t focus on anything else. Not even the voice of my best friend, whom I expect is recounting the story of his second cousin’s dice with death in the classroom, for the millionth time this afternoon.
The pause icon fills the screen and I bite my tongue before panning my gaze to Federico.
“You didn’t hear a word of that, did you?” he says, in a monotone drawl.
I arch a brow. “You were saying that Raff was hit by a chair, but the other kid only got a half hour detention, so his papa stormed into school, threatened the kid and his family, and put the teacher out of a job.” I hold my breath and pray he agrees because, sure, I hadn’t heard a word of it.
He curls a lip and flicks the remote toward the screen sending the dancing feet in motion once again.
I pull my ankles into my butt to stop them from jiggling.
This always happens. Whenever I’m sitting or standing around, if even the slightest sound of music filters through my ears, I cannot for the life of me keep still.
But I’m sitting high up by the breakfast bar in Federico’s kitchen, with my legs crossed on the seat, and I’m too interested in the dancers on TV to tolerate sliding off the stool.
The sound of rustling draws my attention from the TV screen.
“Contessa! Buongiorno!”
I spin around to see Federico’s mama, Mrs. Falconi, drift into the kitchen in a vision of fur and shopping bags. She drops the bags to the floor and walks over with her arms wide open. She wraps them around me, swallowing my small frame.
“Hi Mrs. Falconi,” I squeak, as the life force is squeezed from my lungs.
“So good to see you, Tess. I didn’t know you were coming around today.” There’s a slight edge to her tone that makes me tense. Beneath the shield of her winter sweater, I feel her questioning gaze dart toward Fed.
I normally have dance class on a Thursday but Antonio, my dance teacher, has some family stuff going on, so it’s been canceled.
I can’t think why it would be a problem though.
Ever since my mama was murdered in the crossfire of the underworld violence that has colored my life, the Falconi’s have always let me treat this place like a second home.
Fed’s expression darkens a touch before a glint of mischief appears in his eyes. “We’ll get out from under your feet, Ma. Come on Tess, we’ll go to my room…”
I arch a brow knowing Fed’s pushing his luck.
“Ha ha.” Mrs. Falconi releases me, walks around the island and opens the refrigerator. “Nice try Federico, but you know the rules. No girls in your room.” She turns to flash me a wink. “Not even girls who are just friends.”
I smile. Fed and me, we’ll only ever be just friends.
We’ve known each other since kindergarten.
I’ve witnessed some of his most embarrassing moments, like the time he was staring too hard at Kelly Richards, the prom queen, and face-planted a post, and the time he climbed a tree in the back yard, got stuck and peed himself while waiting to be rescued.
He’s always just been ‘Fed’ to me—my best friend Fed.
Admittedly, since he turned fifteen a few months ago, gotten a little buff and developed a moody attitude that other girls in our school seem to find attractive for some reason, my gaze on him has lingered a little longer than usual.
But that’s only because he’s changing and it’s intriguing to watch, not because I’m attracted to him in like a wannabe girlfriend kinda way.
I don’t look at any boy in that way. There’s no point. None of them would want me.
I’m just the kid who dresses in black and sits at the back of class not talking to anyone, barely able to see through my overgrown bangs. I don’t remember ever having a girlfriend, not even before Mama died and everyone my age started avoiding me.
I was twelve years old when it happened.
I guess it was a time when hormones were starting to do weird things and all my classmates cared about was fitting in, being ‘normal,’ being the same as everyone else.
Having a mama shot dead by a member of the mafia we all pretended didn’t exist wasn’t ‘normal,’ so in their eyes, neither was I.
Still, as uncomfortable as it was to continue dragging my boots into school, it was preferable to being at home, where I was wrapped in cotton and treated like a baby who didn’t understand the world.
I’ll tell you something, there’s nothing like losing a mother to gang violence before you’ve even hit puberty to make you grow up and understand the world fast.
Trilby, our oldest sister, was in the car when Mama was shot. She needed space after that, I guess. She coped by moving almost immediately into the apartment next door, severing any relationship I had with her at a time when I probably needed her the most.
Aunt Allegra and my older sister Sera, however, more than made up for Trilby’s absence by insisting I must never be left alone, I must be shielded from the TV news reports, and always chaperoned whenever I left the house.
It’s only in the last six months I’ve convinced them to let me go to dance class alone, and to Fed’s house down the street—which is lucky for me since he’s the only kid from school who gives me the time of day.
My gaze is drawn back to the screen when I should be thinking about making my excuses to leave. It’s clear Mrs. Falconi wasn’t expecting me, and for the first time ever, I feel as though I’m not welcome here.
“You wanna stay for some cannelloni, Tess?” I can tell from the way Mrs. Falconi rushes out the words without looking at me, she’s only being polite.
My stomach groans, but I know a hint when I hear one.
“I would love to, Mrs. Falconi, but I was just stopping by. My aunt has dinner prepared. Thanks so much though.”
Fed’s body wilts from the other side of the kitchen island, sending an anxious skip down my spine.
A year ago he wouldn’t have cared whether I left or stayed—we’d just agree to meet up again the next day, no big deal.
These days though, not getting his way when it comes to our friendship seems to bother him.
“No problem.” Mrs. Falconi shoots me a smile and I don’t miss the way the outer edges of her eyes have relaxed now I’ve declined the offer. She starts laying out plates and setting cutlery on the table, making my brows draw together. It’s not even five p.m. and she’s serving dinner already?
“In fact,” I say, sliding off the stool, “I better get going.”
“What… now?” Fed hops off his stool, plants his palms on the island and glares at his mom.
“Um…” I glance at Mrs. Falconi but she has her back turned to us both. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have a free period after lunch. Meet you outside the sports hall?”
Fed’s mouth opens and he’s about to reply, but a door slams out in the hall and the sound of tense conversation filters through the wall to the kitchen.
I hear several male voices. I identify one voice as that of Fed’s papa, Enzo Falconi. But the other two voices are unfamiliar. They’re talking low and deep, but not hushed. I can’t make out the words but the obviously tense atmosphere makes the hairs along my arms rise up.
“Why don’t you two go upstairs?”
I turn around and see Fed looking at his mother, his gaze searching for an explanation. When I look across at her, my breath stills. Her usual impeccably rouged cheeks have drained of color.
I start to decline, because I know I shouldn’t be here. “Thanks but I thought we couldn’t—”
But before I can finish my sentence, Fed is at my side, wrapping his fingers around my hand and pulling me toward the staircase. “Let’s go, Tess.”
I can’t drag my eyes from his mom’s face as she watches us leave the room.
Any other time, she’d be stopping us. There’s only one thing she’s ever been super-strict about and that’s letting Fed take me—or any other girl—up the stairs to his room.
But while her voice is calm and measured, her fingers are vibrating against the countertop.
My heart thumps against the wall of my chest. Fed pulls my arm with an urgency that feels more like a need to get me alone in his room than a need to get away from the male voices that are sounding more and more agitated with every step we take.
The landing at the top of the stairs wraps around the entrance hall granting a view of the doors to the kitchen, living areas and the main entrance. My eyes catch on a movement to the right, behind the door to the dining room.
“Wait—” I pull Fed to a standstill. “What’s going on down there?”
Fed joins me as I press my back to the wall.
Where I am as tense as a wound spring, he lets out a bored sigh.
“Oh, who the hell knows? Papa probably forgot to pay the lease on time and you know what those Di Santo assholes are like. They’ll be here to inform him of the increased interest. Or the rise in protection fees. ”
“The Di Santo’s are here?”
My throat has dried up. The Di Santo’s rule this city. They’ve ruled it for so long, it feels like they’re almost legit running the east coast. Everyone knows they have every governor, every official, even the FBI in their pocket. No one has been able to stop them, and now? No one dares to try.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Fed grumbles.
I tense further at his nonchalance, which feels even more dangerous considering Di Santo men are in his house right now. “It doesn’t sound like a routine visit, Fed. It sounds a little intense.”
He scratches at the emerging bristles on his chin. “They’ll be gone in a minute. C’mon, let’s go to my room.”