4. Giada
Giada
Chapter four
Three Years Later
“Giada, you have to come tonight,” my best friend, Bianca, whines into the phone. “Jason is going to be there, and I know you’ve been crushing on him since freshman year.”
I let out a snort of laughter at her attempt to try to sweeten the deal.
“I’m over high school boys. He’s had almost four years to make his move and hasn’t done jack shit.” I fall back on my bed and stare up at the gauzy, white canopy above me. God, this room hasn’t changed since I was four years old and thought I was a princess living in a beautiful castle. Little did I know, it's a castle in a kingdom built on the blood and pain of other people.
“Oh please, he was scared. It’s not like everyone at school doesn’t know who your family is. But Chelsea told me she overheard him talking the other day at soccer practice that he’s ready to shoot his shot with you. I think he just needed to work up the courage to ask you out.”
“Four years, Bianca?”
“It’s a long time, I’ll give you that,” she hedges. “But come on, better late than never.”
Being the only daughter of Francesco Cataldi has made my high school dating life completely nonexistent, thanks to everyone knowing my father runs one of the most powerful crime families in Boston. Sure, he’s never been convicted of anything, but several of his capos went to prison about a decade ago, throwing our name in the press for years. When I was little, I had no idea what any of it meant, but the older I got, the more I realized what people were saying about my family. And the kicker was, it’s all true. My father is notorious throughout Boston, along with my older brother, Carlo, who’s got quite the reputation for being a ruthless asshole, which I completely understand. To say we aren’t close is the understatement of the century.
Honestly, I don’t know why my father cares about me going to parties to begin with. It’s not as though he takes any interest whatsoever in my life. Actually, scratch that. He doesn’t want me getting a reputation of being a party girl, even in high school. Apparently, the only thing my father and brother think I’m good for is making a strong alliance with another family through marriage. Heaven help me if they think I’ve somehow been tainted by another boy before my father picks out a husband for me.
“I’ll try.” Bianca squeals on the other end of the line. “Don’t get too excited. Luca has been watching me like a hawk since the last time I attempted to sneak out.” I’m surprised my father hasn’t nailed my window shut since trying to get to a party last weekend. Unless Luca never told him, but I’m sure as hell not going to ask the man if he’s keeping secrets from my father. I’m perfectly happy to live in the illusion that it’s our little secret because if my father found out that A, I tried to sneak out or B, Luca kept that information from him, we’d both be in a world of hurt. And I really want to go to this party tonight.
Until the night Luca caught me, I had a pretty sweet little escape route through the garden in our backyard. It was easy enough to avoid the guards who regularly patrolled the property if I was quiet enough. And I’d gotten pretty damn good at being quiet and staying out of people’s way. With a brother like mine, it was a skill I’d honed years ago. But since Luca busted me last weekend, there’s no doubt he’s been keeping a closer eye on my bedroom balcony during his patrol shifts. It’s not going to stop me; it just means I'll have to be more careful.
“Okay, pick me up in our usual spot at ten tonight.”
“We’re going to have so much fun!” Bianca practically yells in my ear.
I smile widely while thinking about the little act of rebellion I have planned for later tonight. The party is all well and good, but it’s shoving my father’s rules in his face—even if he doesn’t realize I’m doing it—that really makes tonight worthwhile for me. I didn’t ask to be born his little Mafia princess with his ridiculous demands and no hope for a future I get to decide rather than my father or my brother.
“See you tonight,” I tell her before disconnecting the call and tossing my phone next to me on the blush-pink comforter.
Like I have so many times before, I wonder if my life would’ve been different had my mother survived that car crash. Would she have been the type of mom who stood up for me against my father? Or would she have been a subservient wife like I’ve seen from so many of the older women in this life? Would she have saved me from Carlo’s painfully sadistic pinches when he thought I was stepping out of line? The number of times I’ve had to wear long sleeves in this house in the middle of summer is too many to count.
My mom died in a car accident when I was five. From what I remember of her, she had the warmest smile that could chase away any bad mood or hurt feelings. I was her little shadow, and she never complained. I used to love watching her dress up when she was going out with my father to a party or some other event. I’d sit on the floor of her huge walk-in closet surrounded by her long dresses and play with my dolls, dressing them up in gowns like the ones my mother wore. When it was time to put her face on, as she called it, she’d set me on the white marble counter of her vanity while she did her makeup, and then I’d try to copy what she was doing in the mirror. Of course it never looked as good as hers, quite the opposite in fact, but she’d tell me I was the most beautiful girl in the entire world.
Until the last few months of her life, she always had a wide smile on her face, but before she died, I’d sometimes see her staring off into nothingness and ask her what was wrong. She wasn’t smiling or twirling me around in her bedroom, dancing to some silly songs like she always did. But as soon as she’d see the concern in my eyes, she’d plant little kisses all over my face and pretend it was nothing. But it was something. I knew it, and it makes me so sad to think she wasn’t happy in the last days she was here.
After her accident, my father never spoke of her. I don’t know if it was because he was completely heartbroken over losing his young wife and had to raise two kids on his own or what. Maybe it was the way men in this world dealt with a grief so deep they couldn’t put words to it. When I’d cry to him and tell him I missed my mama, he would get a hard look in his eyes as though my saying that made him angry. He told me she was gone and there was no use crying over someone who was never coming back. I was five fucking years old, and I never forgot the look he gave me. That was the last time I brought her up.
It’s Saturday night, and per usual, Carlo and my father aren’t home. They’re probably at one of their casinos or brothels the family owns throughout the city. They think I don’t know how they make their money, but I’m not stupid. Being a girl in this house means I get overlooked most of the time, but I have eyes and ears. I’ve seen and heard plenty here in my eighteen years, and not all of it pleasant. I’ve witnessed men come in bruised and bloody with fear in their eyes. I’ve heard about the whores—their words, not mine—that were too old to earn and needed to be disposed of. Hell, I’ve even seen a man they brought through the property once with a knife sticking through his gut from my bedroom window before they took him into one of the outbuildings I was warned never to enter. So yeah, I’m no dummy. It’s not the press that makes up lies about my family being criminals. They are, in fact, much worse than what’s been reported in the news, even if no one has been able to pin anything on my father. Not a day that goes by when I don’t wish someone would come knocking on my door and haul my brother or father away in handcuffs. That’s a shitty thing to think about your family, but they deserve to pay for their crimes, and I deserve to be free from the thumb my father keeps me firmly under, crushing my dreams and hopes for a future away from the Mafia.
Sitting up, I jump off my bed and head to the narrow staircase usually only used by our servants that leads to the kitchen to grab myself something to eat. I’m not a huge drinker, but it’s my senior year. I think after surviving the last four years at one of the most pretentious and exclusive private high schools in Boston, I deserve to do a little partying. But waking up with a hangover after drinking on an empty stomach is not how I’d like to spend tomorrow. Learned that lesson the hard way. Of course, I’m not celebrating getting into a university like several of my friends. I wasn’t allowed to even apply. My father doesn’t see the need for a higher education when all that’s expected of me is to marry the son of another powerful man. He’s allowing me to take a trip to Italy this summer as a graduation gift, though. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lost in the Italian Riviera and never make it back to Boston. It’s a fun fantasy but highly unlikely, especially if Luca is tasked to be my guard for the trip instead of one of my family’s other men.
Luca came to work for my family about two years ago. I swear, the second I laid eyes on him, my sixteen-year-old heart nearly exploded out of my chest. His dark hair was longer at the time, as though he didn’t have the time or care to get a proper haircut. The way it fell into natural waves that he tucked behind his ears made him look like a rock star or something in my eyes. All the men in my father’s employ kept their hair short and perfectly styled. Luca was a breath of smoky air that called to my rebellious nature, even at that age. When his piercing blue eyes landed on me, a warm blush crept up my neck and over my cheeks. I’d never experienced such a visceral reaction before in my entire life. God, and when he said hello to me, his voice was deep and a touch raspy like he’s just woken up after a long night of doing whatever it was someone who looked like that would be up late doing. I didn’t know what that necessarily would have entailed; I was only sixteen and had lived an extremely sheltered life, but I knew he was different. Or so I thought.
Then my brother found out about my crush. He was being his usual asshole self and barged into my room one afternoon as I was writing in my journal—not a diary because those were for kids—and found me writing about the future I’d longed to have with the scruffy bodyguard I’d met just weeks before. He grabbed the notebook out of my hand and started reading it out loud then ran down the stairs with it. Carlo continued reading what I thought about Luca’s blue eyes and the way he smelled like sandalwood and cedar mixed with nicotine. About how I’d never liked the smell of cigarettes, but on him, it was alluring.
Right in front of Luca.
I’d never been so mortified as I was the moment Liuca turned to me. My brother was finishing a particularly private line about me wanting him to be my first kiss and wondering if his lips would feel as soft as they looked. Carlo was laughing so hard he was having a hard time catching his breath, and Luca didn’t say anything for a moment. Until he laughed right alongside my brother and made some stupid comment about being irresistible to all the ladies. My brother grew serious and told him under no circumstances was he to ever touch me. Luca laughed it off and said he’d never be interested in a spoiled little princess, and I was just an obnoxious brat with delusional fantasies anyways. If you could hear a heart break, mine would have sounded like the crystal vase in our foyer shattering all over the tile floor.
From that day forward, I hated the man who ripped my heart to shreds with his callous laughter and cruel words. Soon after, he looked just like every other guard in my house with the short hair and stone-cold expression they all wore on their faces. But because I’m apparently a glutton for punishment, I occasionally remember who he was the first time I saw him and allow myself to miss that version of him and myself. The version of me who thought life could hold something more with someone who wasn’t the cookie-cutter Mafia asshole.
After cleaning up from my solo dinner in my empty kitchen—the staff takes a break when Carlo and my dad are out—I head back to my room and pull out a pair of black skinny jeans and black motorcycle boots from the depths of my closet, hidden behind my school uniforms in a large old doll house. I haven’t played with dolls in years, but it makes a great hiding spot to keep the nosy maids from tattling to my father about the clothes I have stashed in here. I even have a fake ID tucked away in here, not that I’ve had the opportunity to use it. There’re too many people in Boston who know my father and brother who would surely run to them if they saw me in a bar drinking. High school parties are one thing, but I haven’t been brave enough to take my fake ID for a test drive.
Sliding the jeans up my legs, I pair them with an old midriff T-shirt and slide my feet into the boots. I tug my long, dark hair into a messy ponytail and outline my eyes with coal-black eyeliner, making my amber eyes stand out even more than usual. Slipping into an old black moto jacket I also have buried in the recesses of my closet, I give myself a once-over in the mirror and smile, feeling the thrill of escaping my gilded prison, if only for one more night.
The years of dance classes I’d been forced to endure have given me strength and control I doubt I’d have otherwise, which comes in handy as I throw a leg over the second-story balcony and shimmy down the drainpipe, landing quietly behind the shrubs next to the house on the soft ground. I stay still for a moment to catch my breath from the adrenaline rush I always feel after successfully scaling down the side of the house. When I’m sure there’s no movement from around the property, I make my way to the garden, keeping to the shadows.
Passing through the garden undetected by the guards who roam the grounds at night sends another thrill through me. It’s like a little game I play, but I’m the only one who knows we’re playing. I’ve spent the last couple years tracking the guards’ movements, and at this hour, they’re switching with night duty and going over anything they need to inform the overnight guards about. That means they’re in the gatehouse at the front of the property before they start their patrols back here. And since Luca was on the day shift today, he’ll be up there and about to head home.
I’ve never given much thought to what would happen if I got caught; I’m that confident in my abilities to go through the property undetected. Until last weekend, it had never happened, but knowing the only guard who’s ever caught me is on his way home, I’m not worried about it tonight. I’ve gotten good at making myself blend into the background. Not that I’ve ever really needed to. No one pays attention to the little Mafia princess in the first place. I’m just a stupid girl with no backbone of her own.
Being ignored and underestimated has worked in my favor.
The fence lining the property is in sight. A couple years ago, I found one of the bars hanging loose on the fence. I probably should have let someone know, but I didn’t. Instead, I walked through the gap and felt my first taste of freedom. No sirens went off; nothing happened other than an excited thrill running through me at knowing there was an escape route if I wanted one. The next day, I came back and tied a wire to the loose post to make it look like it wasn’t falling off to anyone who would have happened upon my little secret. It’s how I’ve been sneaking out the last year.
A smile tilts my lips when I kneel to untie the wire, knowing that Bianca is waiting for me at the edge of the property, and sweet freedom is moments away.
“Hey, princess.”
I yelp and fall backward hard on my ass, staring up into the blue eyes of Luca.
“Son of a bitch,” I whisper-yell. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Luca steps away from the large tree trunk he was hiding behind and studies me as I jump up from the ground, my hand going to my chest. Taking several deep breaths, I try to calm my racing heart.
“Get back to the house, Giada. I’m assuming you can get back to your room the way you snuck out.”
He’s so damn dismissive of me.
“If I wanted to spend another night cooped up in my room, then that’s where I’d be. Fuck off, Luca.”
His eyes narrow as he takes a step toward me and I take one toward the fence.
“If I have to take you back to the house kicking and screaming, that’s what I’ll do, princess. Do not test me.” The growl in his voice stirs something inside me. Vengeful defiance. That’s what I’m going to call it.
I stare at the tall man in front of me. He should be terrifying me at this moment. I should be scared he’s going to tell my father or brother he caught me trying to sneak out. But this isn’t the first time he’s caught me trying, and I know, as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow, that he never told them he caught me the first time. That little fact gives me some collateral here.
“You never told my dad or Carlo you caught me before, did you?”
His jaw tics, and I keep going. “So no, Luca, I don’t think you’re going to carry me back ‘kicking and screaming.’” I tilt my head to the side. “You know exactly what will happen if I go back and they find out I left in the first place. I’ll tell them both you caught me once. Then you can explain to them why you never brought that information to their attention to begin with. I’ll make sure they know that you”—I point a finger toward his heaving chest—“knew there was a breach in security and didn’t do anything about it. Who do you think is going to get in more trouble here? You or me?”
I tap my chin as though I’m contemplating what I just asked. It’s a shitty threat, especially because I know what they would probably do to him if they found out he was keeping something from them. But dammit, I don’t want to get in trouble either.
“What are you suggesting then?” he asks.
“Let me go.”
“Absolutely not. You’re not going out by yourself in Boston. Do you not understand what could happen if the wrong person got their hands on you? There's a reason you aren’t allowed to go into the city without your brother or father.”
“I’m aware, but I seriously doubt it’s for my protection.” If I had to guess, it’s so they can keep an eye on me and make sure I’m not doing something inappropriate that would be unbecoming of a chaste and pure Mafia princess. After all, if I allow another man to ruin me, what good would I be to my family?
“Either let me go or come with me. Those are your two choices,” I tell him.
His head rears back while his lip curls in disgust. “Go with you? To where?”
“A party. If anyone finds out, I won’t rat you out. I’ll tell them you tracked my phone or some shit and found me at the party and came to take me home. I’ll take the fall.” I mean, if we get caught, I don’t see the point of dragging him down with me, but the likelihood of that happening is pretty low. It’s not like this is my first rodeo. The other kids at my school keep everything under wraps. No one wants to get busted at a party drunk or high by the cops or angry parents. That’s a surefire way to ruin our party spots.
Luca runs a hand through his short hair. God, I miss the long, wavy hair he had when I first met him. Now he looks like every other asshole bodyguard we’ve ever had.
He is, Giada.
“Fine,” he eventually breathes out. “I’ll go with you to make sure you don’t get in trouble. But for fuck’s sake, Giada, this needs to be the last time. This is fucking dangerous for both of us.”
A giant smile spreads across my face, somewhat shocked that my threat worked.
Before he has a chance to change his mind, I squeeze through the bars and he follows but has a harder time getting through. When we get to the other side, I don’t say anything as we walk to the road along the other side of the property where Bianca knows to meet me.
“I mean it, Giada. Last time.” There’s that growl again.
My gaze travels to the man walking next to me, who looks wholly uncomfortable with this entire situation. “Relax, Luca. It’ll be fine. I do this all the time.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” he mumbles before we reach Bianca’s Mercedes idling on the side of the road.
She gets out of her car, looks at Luca then back to me. “What’s going on?”
“He’s coming with us.”
Bianca’s eyes widen as Luca walks to the driver’s side of the car.
“And I’m driving,” he tells her.
She nods quickly, scrambling to open the back door of her car. “O-okay.”
When we get settled in the car, I feel her eyes boring into the back of my head, silently trying to telepathically communicate something along the lines of what the hell’s going on right now? “Luca busted me, and we came to an understanding. He wouldn’t let me go alone, so here we are. It’ll be totally fine,” I tell her.
Bianca scoffs. “Yeah, showing up with a bodyguard to a party in the middle of the woods won’t look weird at all.”
She’s right. Luca’s shoulders are tense as he maneuvers the car back onto the road. There’s no chance he’ll blend into the crowd at a high school party. Hell, I don’t think there’s a crowd anywhere he wouldn’t stand out in.
“Can you not look so…” I try to think of exactly how to put my thoughts.
“So what?” he asks, never taking his eyes from the road or looking like anything other than an intimidating killer behind the wheel. Shit, he probably is, for all I know.
“So murdery,” I finally finish.
“No,” is all he says as we drive in silence.
I can tell Bianca is unsure if going to this party is still a good idea.
“Hey, look at it this way.” I smile widely and turn in my seat to face her. “At least we have a DD for the night.”
“Don’t push it, princess,” Luca says.
Okay, so maybe this isn’t one of my more brilliant ideas, but the night is young. As I’ve told Luca and Bianca, I’m sure everything is going to be fine.