5. Renata
Chapter 5
Renata
The Mancini mansion makes our home look ordinary. We probably have a bit more power than them when it comes to the old school methods employed by families like ours. They have more wealth, though. Then again, they need it. There’s so many of them. Aldo Mancini is the head of the family, and he has a daughter, Bianca, and a son, Clifford. Then there’s his brother, Alberto, and he has Matteo and his sister, Sophia. The other three brothers have a variety of kids whose names I can never remember.
Aldo and Alberto run the business, though, and it is Matteo and Clifford who will be set to take over one day. Not Bianca, because she’s a girl, so like me, she’ll be expected to marry some man to cement the family’s power. It’s so unfair.
Still, Mamma was right about one thing. She always said when I grew up, I’d be glad to marry when I found a man who made my heart sing. If Matteo asked me to marry him, would I say yes?
Then the reality of what that means comes crashing in on me, reminding me that I am an Andretti, and we aren’t allowed to even talk to the Mancinis, never mind dream about marrying one.
The party is in full swing when Jilly and I arrive. I clutch my present to my chest like a shield to hide the nervous tremors that roll through my body.
Jilly grins at the burly guards on the door and flashes her invites.
“Miss Rainmoor?” one of the guards reads off his list.
She nods brusquely. She acts like the stuck up rich bitch so hopefully she can sweep inside, no questions asked, with an Andretti at her side.
The guards don’t even bother to look at me. I get that I’m just a girl, but my father would have their balls for such lax security.
We step inside the vast space, and I glance around.
“They never met a gold ornament they didn’t love,” Jilly says with a soft giggle.
Her family home is the kind of thing my father wants for us, understated but steeped in history. The trouble is you can’t buy that history. It isn’t for sale, and our family will always be outsiders to the British elite they admire.
Music comes from the den, and we peek our heads in. There are teenagers dancing to a song I don’t recognize. It sounds old.
“Ooh, classic eighties. Your guy has good taste.”
I can’t see my guy , as she calls him. He’s not in the crowd. Matteo is tall, and he’d be easy to spot. I wander down the hallway and stop at the doorway to the formal drawing room that the family rarely use. Matteo showed me it once and said they only use it for large events.
This is a large event, and I can hear voices. I peek inside and frown.
Jilly sidles up to me and joins me in peering into the room.
Sitting in a large chair, at the very back of the room, like a king on his throne, is Matteo. He’s surrounded by his friends and piles of gifts and is opening them all, but that’s not what has my breath catching in my throat. It’s the fact that sitting next to him, her hand on his arm, is Francesca DeLuca.
I clap my hand over my mouth as nausea quakes heavily in my stomach.
“Why is he sitting with her?” Jilly wrinkles her nose as if there’s a bad smell in the air.
I can’t answer her because I don’t trust myself to speak.
He looks happy in this moment, but I’m on the outside looking in, where I rightfully belong.
I stumble out of the doorway and race to the back of the house toward the restroom. I stumble into one of the two stalls, and Jilly joins me, slamming the door shut.
“Who has a restroom like this in their house?” she asks. “It’s more like something you’d see in a restaurant.”
She isn’t wrong. You enter to a double sink vanity. A chair, a huge mirror, and a basket of various toiletries and scents for guests to use. Then there are two stalls and toilets. This is Jilly’s way of distracting me, but it doesn’t work.
“Did you know he was with her?” I ask.
Jilly’s eyes widen. “No, of course not. I had no idea.”
“I hate him. How dare he! And with a DeLuca! Those girls have made my life a living hell, Jilly!”
“They aren’t even pretty,” Jilly seethes. “It’s an insult to you, Rennie. You’re gorgeous. You’re better than him.”
I’m not better, though. I might be gorgeous as Jilly says, but I don’t fit in. I never have. I don’t fit in at home. Or at school, and I had stupidly thought I might one day fit in with the Mancinis. At least if I had Matteo at my side, but they were the stupid, adolescent dreams of a silly schoolgirl.
I can see that now.
I think of my diary and all my pathetic words of longing about the boy who is right this minute sitting with the one of the ugly sisters, betraying me.
The one lesson of truth my mamma taught me is that the only thing that matters is power, and I gave mine away when I let my heart long for a pretty boy with dark pools for eyes and a wicked grin.
The gift I brought him is still in my arms, and I drop it on the floor. I’m about to stomp my foot on it and smash it when the door to the restroom opens with a creak. I put my fingers to my lips as female voices fill the space. Jilly nods.
“I swear, Frannie, he’s so into you.”
Oh my God, it’s the DeLuca girls. Jilly mimes throwing up, and I can’t help but smile at her silent dramatics. Suddenly it all makes sense. The missed calls from “Frank.” The girls laughing in the background when he missed our date at the café. He fucking betrayed me! Lied to me. Made a fool of me!
“He’s not. He likes that stupid Andretti cow.”
There’s a pause and the sound of something being spritzed. The cloying scent of hairspray fills the space and catches the back of my throat. I can’t cough, and trying to stop the tickle has my eyes watering.
“Frannie, he doesn’t like her. If he did, then he wouldn’t keep it a secret. No matter what people might think. You know, I heard he’s just with her so he can try to find out information for his family.”
People know about us? Oh shit. Then her other words register. My blood turns to ice. He wouldn’t. What information? I don’t know anything. A small, choked gasp escapes my lips, and Jilly shakes her head, slapping her hand over my mouth.
“Hello?” one of the DeLuca sisters calls out.
“Sorry. Just struggling with my stomach,” Jilly says. “You might want to get out of here in a moment. It won’t be pretty.”
Oh my God, she has no shame at all.
“That’s gross.” The sister who speaks has a lower voice, and I think it’s Francesca.
“Not as gross as you sucking Matteo Mancini’s dick when he’s hot for an Andretti.”
Wow, Jilly has such a smart mouth on her.
“Who is this?” A sharp kick to the stall door makes me jump.
“Jilly Rainmoor.”
“Oh, Lawnmower Jill.” The two DeLuca girls laugh together outside the stall. “Do you know why they call you that? Because they say you’re an easy lay, but a boring and slow ride.”
Jilly’s face turns a warm shade of pink, and she reaches for the door lock, but I grab her hand and shake my head, pleading silently with her not to open it and give my presence away.
“Fuck you.” She resorts to insults as she can’t go out there and punch them. “At least people want to ride me. They don’t even want to get on board either of you. If I were you girls and I was starting to play around with the likes of the Mancinis, I’d get myself to a plastic surgeon.”
“Screw you, slut.”
The door slams a moment later, and I sag against the stall.
“You going to stomp on that?” She points at the drawing.
“No, leave it. He’ll know the moment he sees it who left it, and he’ll get the message loud and clear that this is war.”
“Ren—” Jilly tries to reason with me, but I cut her off as I focus on the fury clawing at me.
“No. Matteo Mancini can fuck off. He’s dead to me.” Rage snakes up my spine, and I grip my fists at my sides, an unfamiliar warmth blanketing me. I make a vow there and then. I’ll never let myself get so stupid and in over my head about a man again. How could I have done so? I’ve seen how my brother treats women, and he’s still a damn teenager. He acts like he’s a big man, and he talks about women and girls as if they are trash. My father is a pig too, in his own way. Sexist and boorish. Then there are the soldiers who work for Babbo. Disgusting. Every. Single. One.
Never again will I allow a man to use me and crush my heart like Matteo has. I’ll use men as Nico and my father use women. For sex, money, or power. Then I’ll toss them aside as if they never mattered to me anyway. Because they won’t. I’ll harden my heart and strengthen my resolve.
Fuck them all.
Jill stares at me in shock as I unlock the door and sling it open.
She turns slowly as I step out of the stall, watching me on bated breath. I brace my hands against the vanity as my chin dips to my chest, and I try to slow the scattered breath rushing through my lungs. My hands feel damp with sweat, so I turn the water on and wash the clammy sensation away. I lather my hands in a designer lotion, and even the scent sparks my anger brighter. I watch in stark bewilderment as the glass bottle flings from my hand with force and crashes against the mirror. Oh. That felt wonderful. I pick up another bottle and then another, smashing the expensive glass against the gold marble sink. The putrid scent of florals and musk wafting together stinks up the room, a beautiful portrait of hatred and despair shattered all around me in shards of glass.
“Renata…” Jill eyes me with a cautious regard. “What have you done?”
My brow arches as my eyes cut to hers, and I heave deep to catch my breath.
“I’ve never seen you so angry, so hurt. You’re scaring me, Rennie. Talk to me,” she pleads as she grips my hand.
I’m suddenly snapped out of this raw moment of anger as Jilly’s touch sends a flame of heat down my hand, and I jerk back and cradle my palm to my chest as if she’s just injured me. My vision focuses on the mess around me, and I look down to assess the throbbing pain that radiates through my hand. A bead of crimson trails from my palm to my fingertips. I fist it closed and smile to myself in the wake of my destruction.
“You’re bleeding! Oh my God, Rennie. How bad is it?” Jilly reaches for my hand, but I hold it tighter to my chest and shake my head.
“I’m fine, Jilly. Really.”
“Let me see, Rennie, now.”
I flex my hand open and wince at the deep gash in my palm.
“How are you going to hide that from your mamma? You need to see a doctor.”
I ignore her concern and fist my hand tight to staunch the flow of blood, and a beautiful smear of red trickles to the expensive floor beneath me.
“Talk to me, Rennie. What are you thinking in there? Snap out of it!”
I giggle and don’t even recognize my own voice.
“I’m thinking that the only way to be something in this world, Jilly, is to beat the men at their own games.”
“Yes, bitch!” She claps her hands together. “Now, you’re talking.”
“I’m going to make Matteo pay for this. For lying to me. For betraying me. For making a fool of me. One day. It might not be tomorrow, but his time will come.”
An epic plot of revenge takes root in my mind. Yes, this will be satisfyingly sweet. Matteo refused to take my virginity until I’m older, but it’s obvious he’d manipulate me with lies when he’s fucking a DeLuca behind my back.
I genuinely thought he wanted something special with me, and I even considered maybe he was old fashioned and didn’t want to rush me into having sex if he intended to have a future with me.
I should have known better. He’s forbidden, a temptation I should have resisted. He took advantage of me to make a play against my family to prove to his uncle and father that he’s ready to take his rightful place in the Mancini business.
Matteo is a prideful man. He has a big ego and is very competitive, especially with his best friend, Duncan.
I don’t like Duncan. He’s a blond rugby player and is rather unattractive. However, I’ll do whatever is necessary to hurt Matteo, and I know just where to hit him to hurt him the most.
I’m going to give his best friend and number one rival my virginity. And I’m not going to wait.