Chapter 10
Aurelia
FLASHBACK
Six years ago
My knee bounces uncontrollably as I sit in one of the velvet parlour chairs across from the towering grandfather clock. The thing ticks and I glare at it. Trying to will time to move faster. The meeting with my father’s men was just as humiliating as usual, but it doesn’t matter because of her.
Genevieve.
I just found out her name twenty minutes ago, and I’m already obsessed. Genevieve. It belongs in a poem or whispered on stage during a ballet. I wonder if she goes by something shorter—maybe Gen, or Genny, or Viv. Evie would be cute.
“Stop being so weird, Ace.” Enzo cuts through my spiralling thoughts from the sofa behind me. He lounges lazily, but he still carries authority. “You’re gonna scare her. No one likes someone already planning their wedding before saying hello.”
I roll my eyes but laugh. “I’m just… nervous, okay?”
“She’s gonna love you,” he says, walking around the sofa to face me now, kicking my leg gently to stop its bounce. “And if she doesn’t,” he adds as he adjusts the cuff of his white shirt, “I can always kill her and get you a new one.”
I shoot him an icy glare. “You need therapy.”
He shrugs with a smirk.
The heavy double doors creak open before I can hit him with a pillow, and my breath catches. A guard steps in first, clearing his throat. “Miss Genevieve, Mr. and Miss De Luca.”
She steps in behind him, she’s sunlight being let into a room.
She’s wearing a light blue dress that sways when she walks, cinched at the waist and tied with a bow in the back.
Her long, curly brown hair has golden strands dancing through it, catching the chandelier’s light.
She looks around wide-eyed, taking in the massive foyer, all white marble floors, gold trimming, and towering glass spiral stairs that wind up three floors.
I leap to my feet, forgetting how to act normal. “Hi, Genevieve. My name is Aure—” I pause, then correct myself quickly. “Ace.”
She grins, bright and open. “Oh my god, hi! I’m so excited to meet you. You can call me Gen!”
She starts walking toward me, arms slightly out, hinting she’s going in for a hug, but Elijah—always a damn shadow—steps in, a brick wall between us.
“I’ll ask you not to touch Miss De Luca,” he says flatly.
Gen freezes mid-step, looking up at him with confusion. I get it—tall, broad, and scowling; I mean, he could have been pulled out of a bad cop interrogation scene. No wonder she’s scared.
“Elijah,” I hiss, pushing at his arm, which, obviously, doesn’t move at all. “Move.”
When that fails, I slip around him and wrap Gen in a hug myself. She feels warm, smelling of vanilla, gardenia, and something vaguely sweet.
“I’m so excited to finally have a girl I can trust,” I say as I pull back, grinning so wide my face hurts.
But Gen isn’t looking at me. She’s still staring at Elijah.
My stomach sinks for a second. Is she still scared? Did he intimidate her too much?
I wave it off. “Don’t mind him. He’s not even my main guard. My brother Enzo is.”
I nudge toward Enzo, who’s now standing a few steps away with his signature smug grin.
Gen’s eyes trail up to him, and she tilts her head playfully. “And he’s cute.”
I groan, “Oh no. No. We’re not doing this.”
She laughs, and I grab her hand and start leading her up the staircase, our heels clicking against the glass. “You cannot crush on my brother. He’s a manwhore and would treat you worse than some disposable diamond bracelet. Pretty, expensive, and replaceable.”
She grins. “Don’t worry. It’s just fun to look.”
She leans in, squeezing my arm like we’ve known each other forever. “They told me you haven’t had many girlfriends. I’m guessing I’ve got a lot to teach you.”
I smile back at her, soft and real. For once, it doesn’t feel like I’m pretending to be confident. It feels like I might actually become the girl I keep trying to be.
And for the first time in years, I think:
Maybe this will be the best training I’ve ever had.
* * *
Gen’s been explaining the men-and-women dynamic for the last forty-five minutes, and honestly, I don’t think my jaw has left the floor. Safe to say, all the TV I’ve been bingeing hasn’t painted a clear enough picture.
I’ve never been able to leave our corner of the island. Hell, I haven’t even left the perimeter of the De Luca estate. My room’s my entire world.
Living in Anova means my family’s protection is at its highest. Their protection? Sacred. You don’t break a Mafia vow here. You die with it.
That old-world code gave us security, but Gen explains that from the outside, it’s the most dangerous place. You never know when you might stumble on a secret that gets you killed.
Gen is everything I’m not. She’s lived. Confident and carefree, with that kind of effortless charm that makes people lean in and listen. She laughs easily, and her eyes sparkle when she talks about places I can only dream of.
She’s been to Ravetta, the adjacent Italian blood city.
More glamorous, she says. Think Sorrento meets Las Vegas.
Casinos, opera houses, marble streets with blood in the cracks.
It’s a flashier, more modern faction, risky because of its charm.
Known for deals, betrayal, and indulgence.
Which city you think is safer depends on your connections and the type of life your family lives.
She talks about the parties in the city, how the night never ends, and how, since it’s only a two-hour drive from the manor, she’d love to show me the beauty of escaping reality—if only for a night.
She’s perfect. Everything I could have asked for. She listens and shares secrets and experiences I’ve craved ever since I could talk. She gets me—really gets me.
And yes, I know there’s not much to get. I’m not super complicated, but she loves what I love and cares about the same things. She loves movies, animals, and family, and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
Living freely has allowed her to explore life on the island, not just trapped in one city. She told me she’s only been to Vostralya once. A Russian-controlled city bordering Ravetta.
“Oh, it was gorgeous, Ace. You’d have loved it. Gilded and modern—glass towers, underground clubs, neon shadows. Think luxury corruption. Nightlife is king because the city never sleeps. Oh, and of course, it’s home to the younger Bratva heirs—spoiled, deadly, and sharp.”
“You’re kidding! You met Bratva heirs… and survived?”
She laughs. “They want to have as much fun as any other teenager, and trust me, they know how to have fun.”
“I thought they mostly lived on Drotki?.”
“No. Drotki?’s just business. You have to be fully initiated to live there. Rumour has it that anyone there owes the family some kind of debt.”
“Oh. So, the kids were… nice?” I ask hesitantly.
“Oh, girl, the men there were so hot I almost fell to my knees in the club.” We both giggle and grab each other’s hands.
“So, why’d you only go once?”
“One of the security beef heads from the club said I looked off—too Italian—and asked for my last name. I gave him a fake one, but I think he saw through me. I couldn’t risk dying for my grandfather’s connections. That would just be tragic.”
“Oh god, I could never go there.”
“You don’t look Italian at all.” She laughs, looking back at me.
“My mom was Lithuanian—blonde and blue-eyed—so I guess I’m just a good mix of the two.” I shrug, glancing in the mirror.
“Ohh, that’s why you and your brother are so hot. Deadly combo.”
We laugh, talk about boys and school and everything interesting until the sun starts to set.
My heart pounds a little faster when Elijah and Enzo come strutting into my room, breaking the spell.
“Are you guys friends yet?” Elijah asks, smirking. “Get ready for the party.”
I look back at Gen, confused because we both look nice enough for my usual traditional party, the men upstairs gifting me wads of cash and then pretending I don’t exist.
“I’m wearing a dress and heels, Elijah.”
He smirks, “Wear a better one.”