Chapter Three #2
Enzo looks at me similarly to how Sly looked at me, but with even more malice. He’s seething, hands balled into fists by his side as one of the other guys turns toward him, muttering something I can’t quite make out.
Raina’s glancing over at me from where she’s caged against the wall, still making out with Brock as though the only air they can breathe is what the other’s lungs expels. Her eyebrows lift in silent question, but I simply shake my head, looking down at the ground as my mind works overtime.
Before I can stop myself, I’m turning on my heel, scanning the party for where he went. Quickly, I spot him over at the makeshift bar.
As I approach, he’s pouring himself four fingers of scotch and tossing it back—the exact opposite of how you’re supposed to drink a scotch that expensive.
“How do you know who I am?” My voice comes out pitchy and slightly frantic, mirroring the beat of my heart.
Ignoring me, he pours himself another drink before bringing it to his lips and sipping it slowly. As he lowers the cheap plastic cup, his eyes meet mine. The feeling of recognition swirls in my chest, but I still can’t place him.
“I—” I begin, but the moment the sound leaves my lips, he turns and walks away again.
This time, I act faster and take off after him, my heels clicking against the rooftop as I quicken my pace to catch up.
Why am I even following him?
The last thing this guy deserves is my time and attention, but I’m desperate to know how he knows who I am, and why he clearly dislikes me so much.
That other guy had the same look on his face…
But I couldn't care less about the other guy.
“You know, this is extremely immature of you. You act like you know me even though we just met, and instead of doing the decent thing and explaining why, you’re ignoring me and literally running away.”
This gets his attention, and faster than I can slow, he turns around, causing me to crash into him. Our bodies press together, my face against the soft cotton of his shirt, and I’m disarmed by the scent of him again—sweet citrus, amber, bergamot, and…something I can’t place.
Something that’s uniquely him.
He doesn’t take a step back and instead leans down again, his lips ghosting my ear. “If you don’t recognize me, principessa, that is your issue, not mine.”
“So we have met, then?”
Stepping back, a dark laugh bubbles from his lips, and he shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”
Taking a step to walk away again, I stop him, my hand grabbing his wrist. He looks down at where we’re connected.
“Just tell me how you know who I am.”
I watch his Adam's apple bob, and I narrow my eyes, confused more than ever.
Why do I even care so much? I can’t explain why it’s bothering me that he knows who I am, or why I care about him finding repulsion in that knowledge.
I have a list a mile long of people who hate me simply because I’m a Paladino—the last name comes with many caveats. My father’s power and control within the city isn’t something people take lightly, and simply being his daughter is both a blessing and a curse.
And don’t get me started on my brothers and the strife they’ve caused over the years.
But the reaction Sly and Enzo gave me when they simply laid eyes on me was something I’ve never experienced before. Their hatred of my family clearly runs deep, and I want to know why.
Searching his eyes, I find no answers, but feel myself getting lost within them.
Neither of us says anything, but neither of us looks away, either.
Moments later, a girl stumbles over to us, her cup of white liquid sloshing over the rim, splashing on my shoe.
I jump back to avoid more of her spill as she flings her arm awkwardly over Sly’s shoulder, practically hitting him in the face as she does because she’s too short to fully reach his shoulder.
Whining his name, she takes a large drink and sways into him.
“Angie, please control yourself. This is incredibly sloppy of you.” He physically removes her arm from him and takes a step back, just as she tries to kiss him. “Where is Ollie? He’s the one who should be caring for you.”
Sly glances at me, then walks away from us both, disappearing through the crowd.
“Slut,” the girl, Angie, mutters not-so-under her breath as she looks me up and down.
Rolling my eyes, I walk away too, back to where I left Raina. Thankfully, she’s detached herself from Brock, and is looking out into the party. When she spots me, she visibly relaxes.
“Oh thank God,” she says, pulling me in for a hug. “Where did you go?”
“To get some answers. Can we go?”
“Already?”
“Yeah, I’m not feeling it anymore, but if you’re not ready, it’s fine. I’ll just call Tyson and have him pick me up.” As I’m talking, I pull out my phone from my black sequined crossbody, and start writing a text to my father’s driver.
“No, no, it's fine. We can go. My driver’s still here—you know my father doesn’t let him actually leave.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, babes.” She turns to Brock, pressing up on her tiptoes so he can hear her over the party's music, which has gotten louder over the last few minutes. He shakes his head at whatever she says, then immediately sticks his tongue down her throat again.
Thankfully, this kiss is much quicker than the last one, and when they break apart, I can practically see the hearts in her eyes.
She grins widely, then bounces over to where I’m standing a few feet away. “Okay, let’s go!”
Back in her town car, I watch the city lights pass as we weave through the cars that are still on Madison Avenue.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Raina asks. From my periphery, I can see her looking over at me as her fingers continue to sweep across the keyboard of her phone.
“I’m just not in the mood for a party,” I lie, even though she already knew I was looking forward to the party.
She studies my face, and I turn away again, leaning my head against the cool window. “I call bull. You didn’t like how Sly and Enzo reacted to meeting you. I know you hate when people don’t like you, but did you seriously expect they’d react differently, Vins?”
My head snaps to her, and in that moment, I know I’m missing something.
Something big.
If my best friend knows why they hate me, why haven’t I been clued in?
My head shakes with annoyance, and I lift my hand, swiping it through the air. “Care to share, since you obviously know?”
“Oh, baby girl, sometimes you really do live in your own world, don’t you?
This is why you have me. One of us has to know how to keep track of who’s who around this city, and I like to consider myself a master at social media stalking.
” She laughs at herself while I continue to stare, waiting for her to get to the point.
It takes everything I have to bite my tongue and not snap at her to hurry up.
She sighs dramatically. “That was Sly and Enzo Lucchetti. As in?—”
The color drains from my face as I hear that name and suddenly everything makes perfect sense. The anger, the disgust. Sly’s words.
Years ago, rumors of how my father killed a man right in our home circulated, and how the crime was swept under the rug with the help of the mayor.
Rumors I now know to be true after learning of who my father truly is.
Repressed memories resurfaced when I overheard my brothers whispering about my father’s true business dealings two years ago, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
A single gunshot ricocheting through my mind.
Faded memories of three faceless little boys in my home.
A teenage boy’s wide-eyes when he heard my name from where we sat on a darkened balcony.
The so-called rumors of him murdering a man became a reality after the memories of that night flooded back to me. It took a long time to grapple with the lies I’d been fed my entire life, and even longer to come to terms with them.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d ever see that boy again. And I wasn’t sure how to feel now that I have.
Lucchetti. I repeat in my mind, the lump in my throat thick and stifling.
Swallowing it down, I look at my best friend in shock, finishing her sentence and wondering how I wasn’t able to figure it out on my own. “As in, Gabriele Lucchetti. The man my father killed.”