Chapter 3

I checked my reflection one last time. Everything was perfect. At exactly four in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Giovanni was never late. He wasn’t even early. He was always on point. In the beginning, I’d found his desire to please me, and especially my dad, adorable. Now I had to stifle my annoyance as he stepped into the foyer after our maid Lora had let him in.

He wore a perfectly ironed dress shirt and pants, and his hair was in place despite the storm raging outside. I headed down the staircase to greet him. When I stood on my tiptoes to kiss his lips, he quickly dodged me and kissed my palm, slanting a cautious look at Lora who pointedly looked anywhere but at us.

I gave him a look, no longer trying to mask my annoyance. “Giovanni, my father isn’t home and even if he were, he knows we’re a couple. We’re engaged for heaven’s sake.”

I could see that my words weren’t making the slightest impact on him. His fear of my father was too great. This wasn’t news and not even particularly shocking. Giovanni gave me one of his pleading smiles, which always looked a little on the verge of being painful. He took my hand.

“Let’s go up to my room,” I said, linking our hands.

Giovanni hesitated. “Shouldn’t I greet your mother first?”

That was his miserable attempt to gauge if my mother was home. “She’s not home either,” I quipped, losing my patience.

He finally followed me upstairs but I could still feel his worry lingering, and it eventually came through when we reached the first-floor landing. “What about your brother? He’s the master of the house when your father isn’t home.”

“My brother’s in his room, probably playing Fortnight or whatever else he’s into at the moment. He doesn’t care if you say hi to him.”

“But maybe we should alert him of my presence.”

I was starting to lose my patience. Narrowing my eyes, I said, “He knows you’re here, and he doesn’t care. I’m the oldest Vitiello present.”

“But you’re—”

…a woman.

He didn’t have to say it. Only a woman, and thus, completely irrelevant. I stifled a new wave of frustration.

“It’s not like you’re a stranger, Giovanni. You are my frigging fiancé.”

Giovanni hated it when I cursed—he thought it was unladylike and not fitting for a Capo’s daughter—which was exactly why I used it to annoy him. He obviously had no problem annoying me with his fear of being alone with me.

We finally settled on my bed after yet another argument if we should leave the door of my room ajar. I could tell Giovanni wasn’t into our kiss. His tongue was like a lifeless snail in my mouth. Kissing him had never really set my blood on fire but this topped it off. He seemed miles away. I got up with a seductive smile and pulled my dress over my head, presenting the new La Perla bra and panty set I’d bought only last week in the hopes that someone other than myself would see it. They were black lace, revealing the hint of my nipples.

Giovanni’s eyes widened as they raked over me and hope burst through me. Maybe we were actually getting somewhere. I crept back into bed but I could already see trepidation take over Giovanni’s expression as if I was going to force myself on him. I kissed him and tried to pull him down on me but he pushed up on his arms, levitating over me, a pained expression on his face. I felt heat rise into my cheeks at his rejection. I wasn’t even sure why I still felt this way when his pulling back had become a painful routine.

Giovanni shook his head. “I can’t Marcella. Your father would kill me if he found out.”

“But my father isn’t here,” I growled.

And yet he was. My father was always in the room when I was alone with Giovanni, not physically. He didn’t have to be because he was in Giovanni’s head. Everyone was terrified of my father, even my fiancé. My father’s shadow followed wherever I went. I loved my family more than anything, but in moments like this, I wished I wasn’t Marcella Vitiello. Even though my father allowed me to date, by merely existing he enforced the old traditions I technically wasn’t bound to anymore. I was still expected to remain a virgin until my wedding night, but whatever else Giovanni and I did was our problem. Of course, it would be, if Giovanni had the balls to touch me.

I shoved Giovanni away and he gave in, leaning back and sinking against the headboard. He looked as if he would have jumped right off the bed if he wasn’t scared of offending me. Scared to offend me, scared of my father. Always scared.

“What’s your problem? We’ve been dating for over two years and you still haven’t gotten anywhere near my panties.”

I couldn’t believe I was having this argument. I couldn’t believe I was practically begging my fiancé to get it on. Whenever my friends talked about how they manipulated their boyfriends with sex, I felt a pang because Giovanni would probably cry in relief if I stopped pestering him with having sex. I felt undesired. I didn’t even dare talk to my friends about this, and instead pretended I was the one who wanted to wait until marriage like the good, virtuous Capo daughter everyone wanted me to be.

“Marci—” Giovanni began in a tone that suggested I was a little girl in need of reprimanding. “You know how things are.”

Oh, I knew. This wasn’t about society. This was about his fear of Dad.

I was done with this, done being desired from afar. “I can’t do this anymore. Three people is one too many in a relationship.”

I grabbed my dress and dragged it angrily over my head, not caring when I heard it rip. It had cost a fortune but I could buy a new one. I could have anything money could buy and even things beyond that, if my father pulled the right strings. Everyone treated me like a princess. The spoiled princess of New York. I knew the nickname carried in nasty whispers through our circles. Good for nothing but shoe shopping and being pretty. I excelled at both of course, but I was also best in class and had goals in life that would never matter.

“I never—” Giovanni said, shocked, as he scrambled after me.

“Cheat, no, you didn’t.”

Part of me wished he had. Then I could drop him and pay him back, get revenge that could keep me busy but as it was, his confused expression made me feel guilty. “My father has always been and will always be a part of this relationship. He’ll cast his shadow over our marriage too. I’m sick of it. Do you want to marry him or me?”

Giovanni stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. It drove me crazy. This wasn’t his fault. It was mine for never being happy with what I had, for wanting a love that burned so bright, it would burst right through Dad’s shadow. Maybe that love didn’t exist, but I wasn’t ready to swallow that bitter pill of acceptance yet.

“Listen, Marci, calm down. You know I worship the ground you walk on. I adore you, honor you. I’ll be the best husband I can be for you.”

He worshipped me like an unattainable princess. Every kiss, every touch was drenched with care, with respect, with fear… fear of what my father would do if Giovanni displeased me or him. I hated it.

In the beginning, his gentleness and restraint had been endearing. He’d known he was my first kiss and it had taken him three months to kiss me. I had to force the kiss on him. Every other step in our physical relationship had been initiated by me as well, and there hadn’t been many to count. Sometimes I felt as if I was forcing myself on him. I, who had guys almost break their neck to check her out.

If I went somewhere nobody knew me, then I could have a new guy every night. But I didn’t want to run. I didn’t want to hide who I was, who my father was. I wanted someone who wanted me badly enough to risk my father’s wrath. Giovanni wasn’t that person. I’d realized it a long time ago but had clung to this relationship, had even said yes to his marriage proposal, when even back then I’d known he wasn’t going to give me what I wanted. Two years, three months, and four days. Another day wouldn’t be added to our relationship. Ten days after our engagement, everything was over. I could already see the uproar this news would cause.

“It’s over, Giovanni. I’m sorry. I just can’t do this anymore.”

I turned and hurried away but Giovanni followed me. “Marci, you don’t mean it! Your father will be furious.”

I whirled on him. “My father? What about you? What about me?” I shoved him away and stormed off.

Giovanni’s steps rang out behind me and he caught up with me on the staircase. His fingers closed around my wrist. “Marcella,” his voice was low, frantic. “You can’t do this. We’re supposed to marry once you graduate.”

In two years, I’ll have my marketing degree. The mere idea to continue our relationship in the same way for that long made my stomach churn. I couldn’t do it anymore.

Giovanni shook his head. “Marci, come on. We can even marry sooner if you want, then we can do whatever you want.”

Whatever I wanted? A new wave of undesirable feeling washed over me. “I’m sorry that it is such a burden for you to get physical with me.”

“It’s not, of course not. I desire you. You are a beautiful woman and I can’t wait to make love to you.”

He kissed my hand but I didn’t feel anything, and the idea of making love to Giovanni actually seemed less appealing than it ever had before. Giovanni’s eyes begged me to reconsider, but I clung to my resolve even as I felt guilty. It would only get worse if I ended it later, and I would end it eventually. I shook my head.

Giovanni’s grip on my wrist tightened. It wasn’t painful yet, but close. He leaned closer. “You know of our traditions. The Famiglia is still conservative. If you don’t marry me after dating me for two years, you’ll lose your honor.”

“We didn’t do anything except for kissing and the few boob squeezes and one crotch brush I forced onto you.”

“But people will think we did.”

I couldn’t believe his audacity. “Is that a threat?” I hissed, ready to smack him.

He quickly shook his head. “No, of course not! I’m just concerned about your reputation, that’s all.”

How considerate of him. “Amo’s slept with half of New York. If the conservatives want to tear into someone for their sexual practices, they should choose him.”

“He’s a man, you’re going to be ruined.”

“Bite me.” I paused. “Oh, I almost forgot that you can’t. You’d probably shit your pants from fear of my father. So go away.” I tried to jerk free of his grip, but he didn’t let go.

We hadn’t done half the things I wanted to, because Giovanni hadn’t wanted to risk it, and now he dared to blackmail me with everything we didn’t do but might have done? Asshole.

Something shifted down in the living room and Amo got up from the sofa where he’d apparently been busy with his phone and slowly came our way.

I narrowed my eyes at Giovanni. “Let me go right this second, or I swear you’re going to regret it.”

His eyes darted to the doorway where my brother was towering with a murderous look. Giovanni released me as if he’d been burned. “I have to go,” he said quickly. “I’ll call you tomorrow when you’ve had time to calm down.”

My eyes widened in fury. “Don’t you dare. We’re done.”

Amo came closer. “You’re leaving now.”

Giovanni turned and stalked toward the front door. Amo followed him and threw the door shut. Then he stalked toward me. I stood on the last step and he was still taller than me. His eyes burned with protectiveness. “What happened? Do you want me to go after him and kill him?”

When other brothers said those words to their sisters in a fit of protectiveness it was a figure of speech. Amo was deadly serious. If I said the words, he’d go after my ex-fiancé and end his life. Giovanni had pissed me off but he could find his happily ever after with someone else as far as I was concerned.

“Did he force you to do anything you didn’t want to do?”

Of course, he’d think that was the case. No one would believe I had to beg a man to touch me. “No,” I pressed out, feeling a treacherous heaviness in my throat and eyes. “Giovanni is Dad’s perfect lap dog, the restrained gentleman.”

Amo gave me a look that made it clear he worried for my sanity.

“If a girl was lying half-naked in front of you, would you tell her no?”

Amo’s lips tightened in discomfort. “Probably not. But I really don’t want to imagine you naked or having sex. If Dad knew, he’d kill Giovanni just because.”

“Why? Giovanni was a well-trained lapdog and didn’t dishonor me.” I gritted my teeth against the hot feeling in my eyeballs. I wasn’t going to cry because of Giovanni.

For a while, I’d been sure I loved him but now I realized I’d wanted to love him—had loved the idea of loving him. My relief over having put an end to this was too great for real love. Yet, sadness also settled deep inside of me. Sadness over wasted time or a future that was lost, I wasn’t sure. I had thought I could force love, could recreate what Mom and Dad had by sheer force of will, but I’d failed.

“I need to think,” I said and turned on my heel to head to my room. Amo was a great brother but talking relationships with him was moot.

The moment I stepped into my room, my eyes settled on the frame on my bedside table. It held a photo of Giovanni and me at our engagement party. Giovanni was beaming but my face seemed… off. I’d never noticed it before but I didn’t look like a woman in love with her fiancé. I looked like a woman doing her duty.

I walked over to my bedside and turned the frame over. Staring at this photo wouldn’t help me clear my head.

I felt a little lost as I stood in my room. Every moment that I hadn’t spent with my family, working out, or college had been dedicated to Giovanni. Now that was over. It wasn’t easy finding someone to trust, to love, to be with, if you were me. I’d known Giovanni for a long time and he’d been part of my life since childhood. As the son of one of Dad’s captains, we always attended the same social events.

I didn’t want to think about it. Grabbing my iPad, I cozied up in the nook in my wide window and clicked on my favorite shopping sites. But even that didn’t do the trick, so I grabbed my purse and headed down to the bodyguard offices in the adjacent building to tell them I wanted to go shopping.

Two hours later, I returned home with a dozen bags. I dropped them unceremoniously on the floor. Now that the shopping rush was over, a familiar emptiness spread in my chest. Shoving the sensation down, I grabbed the bags closest to me and opened them. I put on the Max Mara dress then pulled the shoebox out of the other bag.

Steps rang out and Amo appeared. He didn’t say anything for several moments as he stood with his arms crossed in the doorway, muscles bulging.

I raised my eyebrows.

“When other girls get dumped, they cry their eyes out. You spend a fortune on clothes.”

My chest tightened. I had almost cried but I’d jab myself in the eye with my stilettos before I’d let that happen. “I didn’t get dumped,” I said, slipping my new black leather Louboutins on. “Girls like me don’t get dumped.”

Giovanni would have never dumped me. The problem was I wasn’t entirely sure if the reason for that was his fear of my father or his adoration of me. I tried to recall our good moments but looking back, none of them held the emotional depth I’d longed for.

“I can still kill him, you know. It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Amo was trying to be like Dad, but he wasn’t pulling it off. Not yet.

I straightened, then turned around to show off my new dress to Amo. “What do you think?”

He gave a shrug but his eyes remained worried. “Looks good.”

“Good?” I asked. “I want to look hot.”

Amo cocked an eyebrow. “You know fucking well how you look, and I won’t call my sister hot.”

“I want to go out dancing.”

Amo shook his head. “Mom’s going to kill me if I fuck up another math test.” Amo had failed math last year, and only Dad’s reputation had saved him. Now Mom forced him to do math tests even in the summer.

Rolling my eyes, I walked up to him and tilted my head back. “Really? You choose math over partying?”

Amo sighed. “Are any of your friends going to be there?”

“Half of them hate you because you dumped them. And the other half has the hots for you, so I’m keeping you the hell away from them.” Not to mention that none of them knew of my breakup yet and for now, I had no intention of changing that.

“Then I’m out.”

I made a pleading face. “Please, Amo. You know I’m only allowed to party when you are with me. I need a distraction.”

Amo closed his eyes, growling. “Fuck. I really don’t know how Giovanni could say no to you when you made that face.”

I flashed him a smile, knowing I had won. He, like Dad, had trouble saying no to me. “He was too busy worrying about all the ways Dad was going to kill him.”

Amo chuckled as he took out his phone, probably to ask the bodyguards for approval. “Yeah.” The smile dropped. “You sure you’re okay?”

I shoved his chest. He didn’t budge. “I’m fine.” I tossed my hair back. “Now let’s show New York’s male population what they’re never going to get.”

“You’re so fucking vain.”

“Says Mr. Vanity.”

“When are you going to tell Mom and Dad?”

I paused. That was a conversation I wasn’t looking forward to. Not because I worried they’d force me to reconsider my decision. But I didn’t want to explain my reasons to them, and they’d certainly ask for an explanation. Our circles would also certainly ask questions and if I didn’t give satisfactory answers, they’d start spreading rumors—they’d probably do it anyway. People were looking for a scandal, especially where I was concerned. I had more enemies than supporters.

“Tomorrow morning when they’re back.”

Mom and Dad had their weekly date night, which they spent in a hotel. Valerio was with Aunt Gianna and Uncle Matteo in the meantime, probably getting up to no good with our cousin Isabella, and Amo and I had the house to ourselves—and the bodyguards.

“Did we get the go-ahead from the bodyguards?”

Amo nodded, looking up from his phone. “We can go to one of the Famiglia clubs.”

That’s what I’d expected. Amo and I had only once set foot inside a Bratva club and Dad had completely lost his shit.

“Then let’s get ready. I want a distraction.”

The club was frequented by many people from our circles, so Amo and I were under scrutiny the second we entered. But we both were used to it, so we ignored the constant attention. Or at least pretended to do so. From an early age, every one of our steps had been monitored and so we’d learned to keep up appearances in public. No meltdowns or smudged makeup. Too often paparazzi trailed us. I didn’t want that kind of photo of me in a newspaper. It would make my family look bad.

Amo and I made our way toward one of the private balconies overlooking the dance floor. Because Dad owned the place, nobody cared if we were old enough to drink, and we weren’t bound to the minimum beverage requirement of a thousand dollars for the evening, but most of the time, Amo and I easily topped that with our friends. Now that we were alone, this wouldn’t happen. Drinking a Magnum bottle of Dom Perignon alone or with your little brother after a breakup was too sad. I checked my phone again. I’d asked Maribel and Constance, my two closest friends from college, if they wanted to join us, but they’d already made other plans because this was supposed to be my date night with Giovanni. I ignored their questions why I was suddenly free to spend the night with them and turned off my phone.

I just wanted to forget what had happened and who I was for a few moments, but seeing all of the judgmental gazes on me, at least the latter wouldn’t happen.

Keeping my head high, I showed my perfect spoiled princess face, giving them what they expected. They hated me because they thought I had everything when the things I wanted most were always out of my reach. Money could buy so many things, but never happiness or love. Heck, I couldn’t even choose the job I wanted.

Dad would never allow me to be a part of the business, to do what I was born to do and follow the path that ran in my blood. I tossed my hair over my shoulder and ordered a bottle of champagne. My life was filled with all the riches money could buy and other girls hated me for it. I wondered if they’d still hate me if they knew of the invisible shackles around my wrists. Sometimes I just wanted to break free of them, but for me to do that, I’d have to leave the life I knew behind, and worse: my family.