King of Deception (Kings of the Underworld #3)

Chapter 1 Viviana

VIVIANA

I’ve always been the good girl. The obedient one. The daughter who doesn’t cause trouble. The one who has hidden behind a mask her entire life.

I am nothing like my sister Chiara, who is brave.

She has been fighting all her life.

I have been adapting all my life.

The starkest difference between us is that I know I can’t change things. Accepting them seems a sensible thing to do.

Accept the fact that I am a Mafia princess.

Accept that someone else decides my life.

Accept.

Accept.

Accept.

Even though there’s an invisible collar strapped around my neck, reminding me I must behave, my good behavior ensured some freedom, as much freedom as a caged bird can have.

Don’t disgrace my family.

Don’t disobey my father.

Just don’t.

In exchange, I’ve received more love and leeway than my sister.

Chiara found freedom in her arranged marriage, which is the most ironic thing I have witnessed. Life has a way of threading irony like a skilled weaver—subtle yet inextricable.

Rain pours down the window, lashing at the glass as if wanting to crack it, just like I would like to escape my situation.

I watch entranced, losing myself in the violent dance of elements.

Whose determination will persevere? Who will give in?

Just as in life, some people harden under harsh conditions, becoming unbeatable; some break under them, becoming a ghost of their former selves.

Me, I’m a survivor, I will bend but never break.

I sweep my eyes through the ample room, nothing special, but with all the amenities needed. The place I’ve been staying for the last three years offers me a modicum of comfort. It comes with the freedom of being away, postponing my duty to my family.

I share a room with my best friend, Evie, who lies sprawled on her belly, reading a romance novel.

She is a stunning redhead with the sweetest freckles painting her cheeks and the tip of her nose. She also has a fiery temperament to match. While my side is neat and bland, hers is colorful and chaotic.

I am stuck just like I have been since the day I was born, waiting for something to happen—always waiting.

Attending college used to be the best thing, getting a taste of life outside Boston. Now, it’s just a daily reminder that freedom is an illusion.

I will marry a man my family chooses. It’s just the way it is.

The men in my world are extremely entitled, so there’s no point in thinking my future husband will be any different.

There’s something inside me though, pummeling at my walls, trying to break free. Do something reckless for once. Live a bit before I’ll never escape the gilded cage again.

The need to rush through things as if someone will snatch the opportunity from me has been an ingrained fear, shadowing every waking moment. I’ve studied relentlessly for my early education and child psychology degree, spending every waking moment learning.

The fear of not finishing college, of being called to duty early, has diminished any joy, and I am feeling the exhaustion. Becoming a teacher is not only a dream but a calling. Something that is mine.

Glancing back outside, I wish for the rain to cleanse my path, so I can stop tiptoeing as if mines are scattered everywhere, threatening to blow me up with every step, any second.

To find myself somewhere else. Live my life without thinking that even though I am so close to achieving my dream, I might never fulfill it.

“Daydreaming again?” my best friend says in that melodic voice of hers. Placing the book aside, she scoots herself against the headboard.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “That’s the only thing no one can take from me.”

Evie blows out a breath of air infused with frustration. “Sucks to be us, huh?”

“One more year,” I say wistfully.

That was the deal I made with my father. I could go to college, but I would have to drop out if placed in an arranged marriage.

No one in the family knows, and my mother always sides with him.

My sister is the opposite. Chiara would lose it if she heard about the deal I made.

Even though we love each other and we’re close, I’ve always felt out of place in my family.

Overlooked. Most of the time, it was better not to draw attention to myself.

She has her own small family. A man who is beyond madly in love with her, who is also the boss of the Family, and they have the sweetest girl possible, my niece, Celia.

I crave something of my own, a place I can call mine—a true home.

Evie switches into a cross-legged position, her long hair falling over her breasts in waves of copper.

She tilts her head, asking, “If you could go anywhere, where would it be?”

We’ve known each other since we started college. We met in our first class and became fast friends. We bonded over our dream of becoming teachers and the secrets we kept about our families. That’s one topic we never broach.

I sigh. “Somewhere where I can just breathe, forget who I am…”

A place where I don’t have to censor my words or conduct. I’ve lived my life under constant scrutiny.

Solitude has never bothered me. I need it to replenish myself and remain alert. I never know who watches, who reports. Trust no one. Always maintain control. I think that’s my father’s credo.

Evie smiles, her face radiating. She’s beautiful like a fairy princess.

Secrecy shrouds her past. I just know her parents are dead, and she has a brother I’ve never met.

“Come with me tonight. It’s a masquerade. No one will know who you are.”

I am about to refuse, but she pouts, her eyes sparking at the prospect.

The offer plays in my head, pulling me in two different directions. My heart yearns to escape the shackles, to pretend to be someone else, even if only for a few hours. Is fate somehow intervening?

Fate. A strange concept. Behind people’s greatest achievements and losses, that notion has accompanied humanity. An excuse, just like using God for every little or big thing. But wouldn’t that absolve us of accountability? All I hear is not fate but fear. That might be the real ruler of humanity.

Evie rushes to my side. Taking my hand in hers, she gives it a little squeeze. “Please. Just this once. Nothing will happen.”

“You don’t know.”

A soft smile teases her lips. “No one does, Viv.”

A brief pause follows, and she nudges me. “You’re thinking about it?”

I tilt my head, eager to experience something. Live a bit. Until I can’t.

I need a break. One damn night. It’s not much to ask.

She’s right. What could go wrong? Maybe this little adventure will help me sort out my thoughts. Help me focus back on why I must push through.

Nothing will happen. I think a goldfish lives a more interesting life than I do, having the fortune of forgetting its whereabouts in an eight-second increment. I could never forget who I am.

Viviana Bertinelli. The name means something in the underworld.

But for one night, I could just be a woman behind a mask.

“Come on, please. Pretty please.” Her eyes shine at the prospect.

That’s her superpower: glancing at you with her entire heart reflected in her eyes. It’s impossible to deny her.

“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

She jumps off her bed, squealing, and undulates her hips to music only she hears. Arms pumping in the air, she sprints to her closet. Two new dresses hang, implying she already knew I wouldn’t refuse her.

She giggles. “Good that I’m a planner.”

Yanking the dresses out, she thrusts one into my arms. I gasp at the V-neck, sleeveless black dress with elegant waves of tulle flowing down and a revealing slit. Attached to it is a delicate black mask.

I hug the dress to my body, imagining wearing it. I am experiencing my own personal Cinderella moment, aware that the clock will strike, and I must return to my bleak existence. The risky behavior prickles my nerve endings, making me waver.

I am not letting that thought nag at me. One night is not much to ask, I remind myself, fortifying my decision.

Turning, I see she’s already changed into a green satin gown with a heart-shaped neckline and a slit that reaches her thigh, enhancing her feminine features.

“How will we get there?” I sigh, the things that could go wrong causing chaos in my brain while I yearn for this moment of freedom so badly.

She waves me off, pulling her hair into a low updo to conceal her fiery mane. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this for so long…”

Yes, living a lie. Hiding her true identity. I don’t know who she really is. We share a tacit understanding not to pry. What matters is that we have each other.

“Will he be there?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

A bright smile lights up her face. “I’m curious how long it will take for him to recognize me,” she sighs dreamily.

“To living life to the fullest until we can’t.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Lathering my skin in lotion, the scent of peonies permeates my skin. I shimmy into the dress that hugs my body as if it were made for me.

I pull my long dark hair into an elegant ponytail and while sitting at my vanity, I go bold with multiple coats of black mascara, then dab my lips with a cherry red lipstick, needing the mental fortitude.

Nothing like a red lip to boost my confidence, and in this dress, I feel like I could conquer the world.

After we finish primping, we stare at our reflections in the mirror attached to the door.

We look like us, yet different. The women staring back are not confined by rules, forced to hide in the shadows and never call attention.

We scream attention. The feeling is so potent, I drag in a lungful of air, the rush of power exhilarating—dizzying me.

We don the masks, hiding our features well. No one will recognize me.

You have one night. Don’t blow your chance to live a bit before all your choices are taken away from you.

Elbows looped together, we sneak out the emergency exit where a car and driver waits for us.