Mafiosa (Blood for Blood #3) Read online

  A laugh bubbled out of me. ‘Oh, yeah?’

  She nodded, eyes wide. ‘Nobody messes with my plans. I don’t care how murdery they are. He’d better step back. Now.’

  ‘He’s a formidable foe,’ I said. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘Wait,’ she said, her eyes lighting up. ‘Why don’t you just invite him?’

  I threw my head back and laughed. The idea was so ludicrous, so improbable … so pathetic. Pathetic that the only boy I was interested in would rather gouge his eyes out than accompany me on an actual date to a high school dance. I stopped laughing. It really wasn’t that funny.

  ‘No,’ I said, composing myself. ‘That’s not the solution, trust me. We haven’t really been getting on lately.’

  ‘Why? Are you flirting with Nic?’

  ‘I do not flirt with Nic! Why does a girl being nice to a boy always have to be construed as flirting? I am capable of having more than one agenda in my head at any given time.’

  ‘OK, OK, relax, I was just asking …’

  ‘And Luca doesn’t see me like that any more, anyway,’ I added.

  ‘OK, fine, no Luca. I get it,’ Millie conceded. ‘That’s probably a good thing. I really don’t want to scare Cris away.’ She smiled involuntarily at the mention of Cris, who had made the transition from casual hook-up to bona fide boyfriend in a matter of weeks. He was nice: normal, kind, and most importantly, safe. I liked Crispin. Even despite the hideous name. He couldn’t help that.

  ‘Don’t worry, for the sake of your burgeoning relationship I’ll keep my assassins as far away from your boyfriend as I can. But I can’t imagine anything would put Crispin off you,’ I added. ‘You are, after all, utter perfection.’

  ‘You can just call him Cris, you know.’

  I smiled sweetly at her. ‘I actually really enjoy saying the full version, so you’ll just have to indulge me.’

  I was rooting for Cripsin. I was rooting for anyone that didn’t live in my world. I think deep down, I knew that I would have to leave Millie some day, in one way or another, and when I did, I didn’t want to leave her on her own.

  ‘How’s it going with good old Crispin anyway?’ I had been spending so much time worrying about myself that I hadn’t given her half enough opportunity to talk about herself – or let her gush about her love life.

  Millie beamed at me. ‘I’m pretty sure he’s in love with me.’

  ‘No way,’ I said, stifling a squeal, the inner romantic in me alive and well. ‘How do you know? What did he say? When did he say it? Start from the beginning. Leave nothing out.’

  She glanced away, as if checking for possible eavesdroppers. There was a thirty-yard radius around us, care of my infamy. ‘OK, so basically, the other night, we were watching Ghost at my house, you know that movie with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore when they were both at peak hotness?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So, we were on the couch and Cris had his arm around me and I was lying back against his chest, and we were watching that scene where they get all sultry with the clay while ‘Unchained Melody’ plays in the background, and I was saying how Ghost did for pottery what Benedict Cumberbatch did for Sherlock Holmes. Made it sexy, you know? Anyways, next thing I know, he’s stroking my hair, right … and then … he kissed me on the head! Like he just leant down and kissed the top of my head.’

  She was practically jumping up and down in her seat.

  ‘Um … what?’ I said.

  She pointed to the crown of her head, where her parting split her long hair evenly. ‘He kissed me here. On the head.’

  ‘He kissed you the way a parent kisses a newborn baby? He kissed you … like, paternally?’

  ‘Oh, Jesus, Sophie.’

  ‘What? I don’t understand! Your rants are always so vague. I feel like I need CliffsNotes.’

  She placed her palms on her knees and drew in a deep breath. ‘Have I never told you this theory of mine?’

  ‘Oh, I love your theories,’ I said, leaning back in my seat and getting comfortable. ‘Please. Proceed.’

  She smirked at me. ‘I have long been convinced that when a boy kisses you on the head – not in a sexual way or a hint-hint-I-want-to-have-sex-now way – just tenderly, like in a way that comes naturally to him, almost like a reflex, it means he has crossed over the threshold of “like” or “lust” and has fallen in love with you. Sometimes they don’t even realize it. It’s like their body and their reactions understand it first and then their brain gets it a while later. But mark my words, it is a sign.’

  I was trying my hardest not to smirk.

  ‘A kiss for the sake of a kiss, and nothing else,’ she said. ‘I’m telling you, it’s a sign.’

  ‘Where did this theory come from?’

  ‘My mum,’ said Millie. ‘About two months after she started seeing my dad, they were standing outside the cinema and it was freezing cold. He had his arms around her and she was hugging him back, trying to steal his body heat, and they were laughing about something in the movie they’d seen, and he just leant down and kissed her on the head, and she said that’s when she knew.’

  ‘Knew that she was in love with him?’

  ‘No!’ Millie scoffed. ‘That he was in love with her. Have you seen my mum? She’s way hotter than my dad. He had to play the personality game to get her. It was a longer process.’

  ‘Uh-huh …’ I said, coming around to the idea. I had never really experienced it, so I supposed I couldn’t say for certain whether it was bull or not. Even though it did sound pretty suspect. I could, however, believe that a boy was madly in love with her. That part on its own was easy. ‘So, Crispin loves you, then?’

  She nodded, her hair curtaining either side of her face. ‘I could just feel it.’

  ‘Well, that’s cool,’ I said, grinning at her. ‘And I’m not surprised, either.’

  ‘He’ll probably say it at the dance. I don’t know what I’m going to say back yet.’

  ‘Do you love him back?’ I asked.

  Millie shook her head. ‘Nah, not yet.’

  ‘You could pull a Han Solo, and say “I know” when he tells you.’

  ‘Your nerdy sci-fi knowledge notwithstanding, Soph, that is actually not such a terrible idea.’

  ‘Yes, it is!’ I said, alarmed. ‘Don’t say “I know”. That’s so mean! I was kidding!’

  ‘I’ll think of something,’ she assured me. ‘Anyway, returning to my earlier point. You don’t need to worry about some poxy Falcone curfew barricading you in your princess tower. Cris and I will just come and get you tomorrow evening, and we’ll all go together. You can have your Cinderella moment. I will make sure of it.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, in earnest. ‘I think I’ll make a rather dashing third wheel.’

  ‘You’ll be the sexiest third wheel in the history of Cedar Hill High. And if you’re feeling uncomfortable, just say the word and we can ditch Cris, because as I’ve always said, Soph, you’re my real true love.’ She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. ‘There’s no love as real as that of a girl and her best friend.’

  ‘Damn straight,’ I agreed. ‘I love you, Mil.’

  She winked at me. ‘I know.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  NORMALITY

  When I stood in front of my mirror and saw myself in the royal-blue gown – my blonde hair framing my face in waves, my cheeks lightly rouged, my eyes made bigger and bluer with shadow and mascara – I started to cry. This girl I barely recognized. This girl my mother would have fawned over. This girl who looked elegant and happy.

  This girl who wore a mask so convincing she almost fooled herself.

  My reflection seemed so far away from who I had become. It wasn’t me, this new image. Inside I was dark and broken. White-hot with rage. Weakened by grief. Inside, I was a black hole, waiting to devour any semblance of happiness.

  This wasn’t me, but for tonight, I desperately wanted it to be. And the realization, when it came, was like a punch in the gut. So I
cried, just a little, and then I cried a lot. I sank to the floor, pulled my knees into my chest, buried my face in my mother’s sweater, and wept.

  God, how I missed her. I missed who she was, and who she made me believe I could be. I missed the way she made me feel. I missed the world I used to know, and all the wonderful people in it. I missed the possibility of a different life.

  Be strong. Be brave.

  When I stood back up, reapplied my make-up and fixed my dress, I realized that for the first time in a long time, I looked like her. I didn’t look like my father. I didn’t look like a Marino. I looked like Celine Durant, my mother. Not a Marino. Not a Falcone.

  Tonight, at the Masquerade Ball, I would wear two masks. The gold-embroidered one from Millie, and this painted smile that spoke of another life.

  Millie texted me just after sundown to let me know her and Cris were almost at Evelina. I didn’t know who was downstairs so I decided it would be safest to meet them at the end of Felice’s driveway, far away from any prying eyes.

  I gave myself a final once-over in the mirror. The dress fitted like a glove, hugging me in at the waist and parting in gentle ruffles towards the floor. I had redone my make-up – this time with waterproof mascara – but the urge to cry had passed, and in that moment, I felt strong. Excited. I unearthed my mother’s favourite sapphire necklace and earrings and put them on.

  I grabbed my bag and my mask, and sneaked downstairs, treading as softly as I could so my heels on the marble floors wouldn’t give me away. I kept my breath bound up in my chest as shivers of anxiety coursed through me.

  In the foyer, I ran into Gino. He was crawling along the floor on his hands and knees and squinting at the tiles. I probably could have stepped right over him, but I figured I wouldn’t take the chance.

  I bent over him. ‘What are you doing?’

  He snapped his head up, and his face broke into a grin. ‘Sophie!’ he said. ‘Wow. Nice dress. You look like a young Brigitte Bardot.’

  ‘I—what?’

  He sat up on his hunkers, disregarding his search. ‘She’s a French actress from back in the day. I like her movies.’

  ‘Um, OK. Cool. Thanks?’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, still beaming.

  Ah, Gino.

  I gestured at the floor. ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘I lost my earring,’ he said, tugging at his ear and frowning.

  ‘Oh.’ I didn’t add that that was probably an improvement. ‘Do you want me to help you look for it?’

  ‘That’s OK.’ He paused, and looked up at me again. ‘Do you want me to help you sneak out?’

  I smiled sheepishly. ‘That’s OK. I think I can take it from here.’

  ‘Where are you going, anyhow?’

  ‘To a dance.’ I waved the mask in my hand. ‘A masquerade dance.’

  Gino sighed, and his eyes glazed just a little. ‘I love dancing,’ he said. ‘But no one ever seems to make time for it. Not since Evelina left.’

  I almost would have taken him with me, if it wasn’t for his position as a complete and totally unsubtle loose cannon. ‘I better go,’ I hedged.

  He had already resumed his search.

  I unlatched the front door and slipped outside. The sky was a myriad of pink and orange brushstrokes, growing dark at the edges. It would be a clear night, and a smooth getaway. The sense of possibility, of before, carried on the soft wind, and I embraced it.

  The lanterns around the driveway were already lit up. I walked slowly, concentrating on the determined crunch of gravel beneath my feet. I passed the one and only SUV in the driveway and reached the edge of the circular parking area, and then, I don’t know quite why, but I stopped walking. I stalled, and I knew, without knowing how, that there was someone behind me, watching me. I could feel it in the hairs on the back of my neck.

  I didn’t dare turn around. I kept going, determined to have one last night of normality before it all went to hell. One last night of the old Sophie, before the underworld swallowed me up for good.

  It would be enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  MASQUERADE

  For a place that usually smelt of old sneakers and looked like something the 1940s threw up, the school gym was really working it tonight. All the walls had been covered in thick black drapes inlaid with crystalline stars. They even lit up and twinkled. Crêpe paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling around a giant disco ball that cast swirling silver streaks all around the room. The ground was covered in faux snow sprinkled over a white roll-out dance floor, and the tables were adorned with shining silver tablecloths.

  Most of the girls were wearing floor-length gowns of black and silver and gold. Their masks were intricate and elaborate – some on ornamental handles, others fastened around their heads with a band. The guys were well turned out in tuxes, although some had opted for Converse instead of dress shoes. One girl was wearing a fitted tuxedo with tails at the end. Her shoes were black and white, and shiny, and she was carrying an actual cane with her, as if she was about to break into an elaborate tap-dancing routine at any moment. She had a dark pixie cut that stuck up around the edges of her white mask. I couldn’t see beyond the upturned nose and dark purple lips to fully recognize her, but I was definitely impressed by the eccentricity.

  It was pleasant to not have to look anyone in the eye and see their judgement or fear staring back at me. The anonymity was freeing, and with my mask tied snugly around my head with a ribbon, and the upper half of my face covered, I sank into the music and the mingling, and felt a sense of freedom I hadn’t experienced in a while.

  ‘It’s perfect!’ I told Millie, who was swigging from Crispin’s concealed hip flask by the punch table. He was standing behind her, a protective hand on her waist, and she was leaning into him, swaying in time with the music. Being a third wheel wasn’t really that excruciating as it turned out. I was just happy to be out of Evelina. I was happy to be any kind of wheel at all.

  ‘I know, right!’ She beamed at me. ‘Everyone is in such a good mood.’

  ‘Of course it’s perfect,’ Crispin chimed in. He was talking to me but staring at Millie. He did that a lot. It was cute, if a little vomitous, but hey, who was I to judge? ‘It’s perfect because Millie is perfect.’

  Millie giggled. ‘Thanks, babe!’ She gave me a look that seemed to say I-told-you-he-was-in-love-with-me. I took a swig from the hip flask and winked at her.

  Watching the two of them together, I now understood exactly what she had meant on the bleachers yesterday. Cris was so in love with her. There was no doubt about it. And she was in love with love, and I felt a huge burst of happiness for her, because of all the people in my life now, she deserved that joy the most. I couldn’t give that to her any more – not for more than one night – but Cris could. He was all-in. And Millie deserved someone who could go all-in for her.

  ‘I’m going to run to the bathroom,’ I told them. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Millie had already started to disentangle herself from Cris.

  ‘No, no, I’ll be fine. There are loads of people in there already.’ I waved her back into her suitor’s arms and slipped across the dance floor until the throngs of people started to thin out and I could relax a little. I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, but I wanted to give Millie the space to make out with her boyfriend for a while. I didn’t need to witness that, and I could tell she was dying to kiss him. He was pretty hot, in that blond, all-American track-and-field-star kind of way. Abercrombie attractive. I guessed I only had eyes for nebulous assassins these days.

  The song changed, and I almost squealed with delight. It was ‘Africa’ by Toto, old but epic. I thought about dancing on my own, then I thought about my dignity and if the rest of it was worth salvaging. I was half considering actually asking someone to dance – I had been getting a lot of appreciative looks, and since the mask hid my identity – more or less – what was the harm in a simple
moment of escapism? Wasn’t that the point of tonight?

  I hesitated, scanning the crowds. Who was I going to ask? My nerves kicked into gear. I couldn’t. Could I? But I loved this song. And the girl with the cane was dancing quite close … Maybe I could dance with her, though I imagined it would severely lower the air of coolness around her. Or at least sidle over and ask her where she had gotten her lipstick, because now I was near enough to see the glitter on top of the dark purple sheen.

  Someone tapped me on my shoulder, and I turned around so fast, my dress swished like a move from an overly-expensive, random-actress-led Dior perfume ad.

  My gasp was so intense it turned into a coughing fit, and all the grace that had emanated from my original twirl evaporated.

  ‘Luca?’ It took everything in my power not to press my hand into his face to check if he was real.

  Luca Falcone was standing in front of me in the most pristine black suit I had ever seen. He was wearing a black silk shirt and tie, buttoned up to his neck. His hair was swept backwards and lightly gelled, and the mask he wore was thin – just a swathe of black to cover his eyes, but nothing could disguise that mesmerizing sapphire blue.

  He was smirking at me. ‘Hi.’

  I really wanted to go for a demure, perhaps even sultry, Hello, but what came out was a heaving, ‘What-the-hell-are-you-doing-here?’

  His smirk didn’t falter. ‘Your own independence and self-sufficiency notwithstanding, I thought that maybe you might be open to having a chaperone tonight …’

  ‘Do you mean romantically or for security?’ I asked.

  ‘Which would you prefer?’

  ‘Which are you offering?’

  The smile sloped to one side. ‘Whichever one makes you happier.’

  ‘Am I hallucinating?’

  ‘I’m the one at a high school dance,’ he pointed out. ‘Maybe I’m hallucinating.’

  A memory trickled into my awareness. ‘It was you earlier in the driveway, wasn’t it? You saw me and you let me go.’