The Mob Boss’s Girl

I pin my hair up and stare at my reflection in the mirror. If the circumstances were different, I would allow myself to admire my reflection. The emerald green eye shadow has made my brown eyes pop unnaturally, and something about the dress I'm wearing—the same shade as the eye shadow—gives my skin a lovely glow. My mother will be proud of my appearance. My father will be devastated. I steel myself for both. My mother's eagerness to marry me into the Ferrante family is heartbreaking considering she knows who they are, better than anyone else in our world. If she were a better person, I wouldn't hate her for this. I would understand that she didn't have a choice in the matter; that she's putting on a show so they don't suspect that joining our families is the last thing in the world that we want to do. But she isn't a good person. As for my father, his devastation will undoubtedly affect me. He hasn't been the same since my mother announced what she considers a 'fortuitous match'.

Victoria cackles. "So, he's not old and wrinkly?"I groan and turn on my side on Victoria's bed. I prop my head on my hand and sigh. "Not exactly."Brett arches a brow at me and crosses his legs. Out of all my closest friends, he's always been the one who could read me easily. He knows when I'm lying. He knows when I'm exaggerating. And he knows when I'm bullshitting. We've known each other for years. Since middle school, to be exact. Right now, I'm keeping the full truth from them and he can sense that. I'm just not prepared to tell them about Luca Ferrante. The matter is far too serious to take lightly. "What's that supposed to mean?" Victoria asks while combing her thick black hair. There's a wrinkle between her brows, and her lips are pursed as she waits for an answer. I tell her, "Never mind. I don't really want to talk about it. I'm still...processing things."Brett eyes her suspiciously as he combs his hair back. I try not to appear nervous to him, but it's getting impossibl

It's been a slow day, and I haven't been this irritated in a while. My conversation with Mary has ruined my mood entirely. I should be relieved that she's genuinely excited about this but something about this whole affair reeks to me. I have a bad feeling about all of this and I can't explain why. I just do. Mary and I didn't speak for the remainder of the day. It's not that I'm upset about her answer—I should actually be relieved about this. It's that I know that her words are a projection of our mother, and so she might not be genuine about this. It's no secret that mom wants her to marry that guy, and what Mary is doing is bringing mom's wish to life with her acceptance. It's sad and there's nothing that I can do about it. It just is. I wanted to leave earlier to have lunch with Victoria and Brett, but Constance told me that mom wanted us all together when she arrived, and so this ruined my plans. I'm beyond irritated at this point, and it feels like the world is conspiring aga

Our eyes meet occasionally, and I can't seem to understand why he keeps looking at me. Mom and Mary joined me as soon as dad arrived a few minutes ago. Mom scolds him for being late, but he makes no reply. We glance at each other, and his exhaustion becomes mine. She keeps going on and on about how bad he made the family look, and he simply bows his head in greeting to anyone we know who walks by. Mom stops momentarily and forces a smile but as soon as they're out of earshot, she continues with her pointless speech. I feel Mary glance at me but I'm still mad at her for reasons I can't comprehend myself, not fully. Maybe I began fearing her duplicity for the first time ever. I've never seen her friendliness with mom as a threat, not until today. There's a lot I've said to her about the way I feel about mom, and if she reported everything back, well...Deep down, I know I'm being unreasonable. I know Mary. I know she isn't like that. But the fear won't leave my bones and I don't know h

I wake up to a knock on my bedroom door. I look around the room. I slept through the night. I didn't think I would. I came home fuming because I was in no mood to meet up with my friends. Mom had managed to ruin my whole week with her words and attitude concerning Luca Ferrante. Sometimes I close my eyes and can't believe that actually happened. To be frank, I'm not surprised, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I'm less hurt by what she said and did. It was no surprise to me that she meant to arrange a marriage between Mary and Luca, but telling me to stay away from him was taking it a step too far, even for her standards. The dress. The speech. It's all messing with my head. I don't remember feeling this angry with something she did, and so the best thing that I can do is keep my distance from her. If she tries to tell me something else regarding the issue this morning, my response won't be pleasing to her. There's the knock again. It interrupts my train of thought. I had forg