Chapter 6
Aurelia
FLASHBACK
Six years ago
Sitting in the courtyard, I slide onto the edge of the pool, letting my fingers trail in the water.
The sunlight dances against the ripples, but it does nothing to soothe the exhaustion sitting heavy in my bones.
Working out with Elijah all day has drained me completely, but I’m determined to get some peace before tonight.
Tonight is everything.
I get to meet her. My first friend.
It sounds dramatic, but that’s just how life works here. Papa shows love in two ways: protection and money. Nothing in between. When I asked for a daddy-daughter day at six years old, I came home to a life-sized Barbie Dreamhouse waiting in my room. Expensive. Extravagant. Empty.
I flick water from my fingertips, watching the droplets glitter in the sun. My long, onyx hair clings to my damp shoulders, and for a moment, I almost forget the weight pressing in on me—until a shadow crosses over, swallowing the warmth.
“Dante won’t be attending tonight,” Elijah says, steady behind me. “But he’s laid out all the arrangements for your meeting and then your friend’s introduction.”
My head whips up. “Papa’s not coming?”
“Business,” he replies flatly.
“Oh.” I force out lightly. “That’s fine.”
It isn’t.
Not at all. But I know better than to sulk.
“Who’s coming with me to the meeting with his client?”
Elijah taps on his leg with quick motions of his fingers. I know he doesn’t approve when Papa sends me.
“They are higher up, you won’t know them, but Enzo is dropping you off.”
I nod, annoyed that I have to go, but at least I’ll have something to look forward to after.
I mean, all I have to do is stand in the room wearing a sultry dress, standing side by side with my papa’s men. Appeasing the client so they don’t get bored during any negotiations.
Papa, of course, never tells anyone who I am, and I fully believe that he won’t need me to do this for much longer.
Elijah lowers himself onto the pool’s stone edge beside me. The unexpected closeness making my chest feel tight. His elbows rest on his knees, hands laced together, expression unreadable until—there. A flicker of something teasing.
“I know who your new friend is,” he says, eyes glinting as he glances at me.
“Ooh, tell me.” My composure cracks immediately, excitement flooding in before I can stop it.
He laughs. That deep, easy sound that annoys me because it feels like he’s laughing at me, not with me. I usually try to play it cool around him—aloof, maybe even seductive when I’m brave enough—but sometimes I forget. Sometimes, he sees me as I am.
“Well,” he says, leaning back, “the official story is that her grandfather was Italian mafia. One of your grandfather’s closest allies, before they both… you know.”
“Right. Obviously.” I nod quickly, impatient for more.
“The rest of her family moved out of Anova. Tried to go clean. They settled in Raevetta, on the outskirts of the city. No ties, no dirt.”
“So… a crime-family-gone-rogue backstory?” I grin. “I love it.”
“And her?”
Elijah smirks. “She’s hot.”
I kick his leg under the water, splashing droplets onto his pants. “Gross. She’s sixteen.”
“So are you.” His gaze slides deliberately down my body, lingering where water beads against my bikini.
I cross my arms, pulling my knees to my chest, but not before I catch the curl of his smirk.
I can’t even try to control the fluttering in my chest.
“Describe her, weirdo.” It comes out too high, too quick, trying to erase the heat crawling up my neck.
“She’s got long curly brown hair, streaks of blonde in it. Nice figure. Bubbly. Talks too much.”
I can’t stop smiling. “I love her already.”
“You haven’t even met her,” he mutters, shaking his head.
“Yeah, but she’s hot and fun,” I shrug like it’s obvious. “I can tell.”
Elijah rolls his eyes. “You’re just desperate to stop gawking at TV actresses and actually talk to a real girl.”
“Well, yeah.” I tilt back toward the sun, letting it blind me, and hide my smile.
“Normal girls just sneak out to clubs,” Elijah says.
“You wanna help me sneak out?” I shoot back, but my voice dips lower, playful.
Silence.
He doesn’t lecture me. Doesn’t say I’d get myself killed. He doesn’t say anything at all.
I adjust my posture, glancing sideways.
He’s smirking. Head bowed, watching his hands, and I question if they’ve suddenly become fascinating. But the corners of his mouth twitch, betraying the truth.
The realization hits me so hard I stumble to my feet.
“Oh my god.”