KARINA
I stared at my phone and wondered if I should update my status, let the world know I was on my way to Dante’s birthday party at Vertigo nightclub. But that would be stupid. Plus, it would be a recipe for a stampede.
If I were honest with myself, I’d admit the only reason I would want to do something so stupid would be to see if he was still keeping an eye on my profile. And would he react? Or would he suspect it was just another ruse, a ploy at creating a little entertainment for my followers?
God, I felt so pathetic even considering it. In any case, I wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the little freedom my brothers and I were given.
Usually, our dad didn’t condone us hanging out at bars or nightclubs, and we hardly ever did. Being Italian came with a lot of rules and family morals everyone needed to adhere to. From an early age, we were taught to wear sophistication as a second skin and never to bring shame upon the family. We were classy, and our actions needed to mirror that.
A few years back, Dante went through a real tough time. Acted out, got drunk, started fights, and went around being a total asshole. One night he was out partying at a nightclub, and a fight broke out because my dear brother decided to pursue a woman who clearly already had a man at her side. Overall, he was acting like a complete jerk, and the media was having a field day with it.
The rest of the family didn’t understand, but I did. I understood. Being a woman and dealing with heartbreak was tough enough. But being an independent, strong man with an ego bigger than the Pacific, dealing with a broken heart was ten times worse. It was eating away at him. Partying and drinking was the only way he knew how to deal with it.
But Dante was never one to follow rules, always wanting to see how far he could bend them before they finally broke. But that day at the bar, Dante bent the rules too damn far. I’d never seen my dad as mad as I did that day. He slapped Dante across the face so hard my brother had a handprint on his cheek for a week. The Italian that came out of my dad’s mouth was something I’d never dream of repeating.
It was after that incident my mom managed to persuade Dad to let us have the tiniest sliver of freedom, especially whenever there was something that needed celebrating. She blamed Dante’s antics on being too cramped, too protected. If you asked me, even if we were given all the freedom in the world, Dante would still fuck up every chance he got. That was just the way he was—the wild horse.
“Well, look at you.” Dante came sauntering down the hallway just as I stepped out of my room.
I smiled as he pulled on his black suit jacket. “Speak for yourself. You look dashing, Mr. Valenti.”
He glanced down at the black sleeveless mini dress I was wearing. “Antonio is going to have a heart attack.”
“And why would I have a heart attack?” Antonio walked up behind Dante.
“Because Karina decided to wear half a dress.” Dante crossed his arms and smirked.
I glowered at him. “It’s not half a dress. It’s called a cocktail dress.”
“It’s called a cocktail dress because you look like tail for a lot of cocks when you’re wearing it.” Dante stepped in next to me and placed his arm around my shoulder.
“Ha, ha,” I scoffed. “That’s not even remotely funny.”
“Dante is right, Karina,” Antonio started. “I don’t want trouble tonight.”
“And you won’t get trouble just because I’m wearing a stupid dress.”
Antonio scowled. “If it’s a stupid dress, you won’t mind changing into another one, then.”
I glanced from Antonio to Dante. They could practically have been twins with their dark hair and dark eyes. You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to not realize they were brothers.
Antonio was slightly taller than Dante, and he carried himself with much more grace and poise. He had that same air of confidence around him, like our dad. He demanded everyone’s attention simply by walking into a room. From the outside looking in, it would be easy to spot who was the heir to the Valenti throne. Antonio was always impeccably well-groomed, with never a hair out of place, and always cleanly shaven. Basically, he was every Italian designer’s wet dream.
Now, Dante? Dante was what the world would call the bad boy. He was a little more muscular, and he wore his hair slightly longer, the tips touching his collar. Also, not nearly as high-strung as our older brother. Like now, for example. Antonio was wearing a black tie to compliment his perfectly pressed suit, while Dante had the first three buttons of his white dress shirt undone. He was much rougher around the edges…like Detective Stone.
Dammit. I had no idea why I’d thought of him. As quickly as that thought popped into my mind, I pushed it aside and glanced at Dante. “You had to stir shit about the dress, didn’t you?”
“I’m just looking out for my little sister.” Dante urged me to turn with him, his arm still on my shoulders. “I’m only kidding, little sister. You look gorgeous. Now, let’s go.”
“Thank you, Dante.” I smiled and placed my arm around his waist.
Dante glanced at Antonio. “And if we’re forced to kick some poor bastard’s ass for ogling hers, then we can tell Dad it was totally her fault.”
“Oh, my God.” I jabbed him in the side with my elbow. “You are such an ass.”
They both burst out laughing as we walked down the hallway, and I knew I was going to feel like a damn sardine between the two of them for the entire night.
We were about to head out the front door when my father came into the foyer, his dark gaze settling on me.
“Karina, may I have a word?” Like I have a choice. Lorenzo Valenti might let it sound like he was asking, but everyone knew he never asked. He demanded.
Dante removed his arm from my shoulder and nudged me forward. “We’ll wait for you in the car.”
Dammit.
While Dante and Antonio walked out the front door, I tried my best to glare holes in their heads, telepathically conveying the message I was extremely pissed off and I would have my revenge.
Dante winked at me as he closed the door behind him. I was pretty sure I’d never had such an overwhelming urge to beat the crap out of him as I did right at that moment.
Like a two-year-old, I stuck my tongue out at him, then heard my father clear his throat behind me.
It wasn’t like I didn’t want to speak to my father, it was just that I already knew what this was about. I’d been home for two days, and I had made it my life’s mission to avoid being alone with him since I knew this conversation was on his to-do list for some time now.
I turned and tried to muster the sweetest smile humanly possible. “Everything okay, Dad?”
He took off his suit jacket and placed it by his briefcase before taking off his tie and loosening the top two buttons of his shirt.
I kept staring at the tattoo on the top of his hand, the symbol that represented our family—the wolf. The symbol consisted of lines weaved together to form a wolf’s face, almost like a tribal sign. Both my brothers and all my uncles and cousins who decided to devote their lives to the family business had the same symbol tattooed on their hands. My mom, like all the other women in our family, had it on the inside of her wrist. Everyone who had gone through the initiation ceremony received that symbol and wore it as a sign of their loyalty and commitment to the Valenti legacy.
I was the only Valenti who hadn’t been inked with the family symbol yet—which brought us to the topic of the conversation I was on the verge of having with my father.
“Karina, have you been avoiding me?” He started to loosen the cuffs of his shirt.
“Not at all.” Yes. “Why do you think that?” I shifted uncomfortably from one leg to the other.
“Well, you haven’t spent five minutes alone with me since you arrived.”
“Sorry, Dad.” I walked up to him and placed a kiss on his cheek. “It’s not intentional. I know how busy you are, and I don’t want to distract you.”
He placed a palm on my cheek and stared down at me lovingly. “My sweet bambina, I am never too busy for my princess.” He took my hand and turned my wrist up while he stared down at the skin where our family symbol was supposed to be. “Please tell me you considered my proposal?”
Right there. That was the reason I’d been avoiding him ever since I got here. His proposal.
“Dad, please.” I stepped back, and it felt like the walls were starting to inch closer, the air slowly getting sucked out of the room.
“Bambina. I’m serious. I want you here, with us.”
“I know, Dad.” I had an overwhelming urge to roll my eyes, but I didn’t. Instead, I pulled my hand through my hair and looked everywhere except at him.
He stepped forward, the determination in his eyes almost knocking me off my feet. “You do not have to become this big-shot lawyer, bambina. You don’t have to be so far away. This empire I’ve built, this is for you, for your brothers, and for our family to stay together—to stay strong and united.”
“What am I supposed to do here, Dad? Am I supposed to sit around and look pretty until some man who carries your approval decides to make me his trophy wife?”
“Bambina—”
“No, Dad. I want a life of my own, to be me, and to not live by all these rules—your rules.”
His thick, dark eyebrows slanted down as he scowled at me. “All these rules are there to protect us, Karina. They aren’t just made up for my amusement.”
“That’s the thing. Why do I need protection? Because you run some questionable businesses? Because you choose to live this way?”
“Because this is our heritage. It is our responsibility to make sure the Valenti legacy remains as strong as it has been for the last fifty years.” He raised his voice with every word he spoke, and his eyes darkened, making me wish I was able to walk out the front door five minutes earlier. Then all of this could have been avoided.
I took a deep breath and softly said, “This is exactly why I never want to come home.”
He opened his mouth, but I was out the door before he had a chance to say anything else. Enough had been said already. It was clear he hated the decisions I’d made so far in my life, and he hated that I didn’t want to do as I was told like every other damn Italian woman stuck in the same situation. I didn’t ask to be a part of all this. I didn’t ask to be a Valenti. And I sure as hell didn’t ask to be bound by all their goddamn rules. Their rules were exactly that. Theirs. Not mine.
I stomped toward the Audi parked in the driveway, headlights shining directly at me, the person behind the wheel honking the horn. That could only be one asshole. Dante.
“Hurry up, would you, princess? The cigars and booze are waiting.”
I got into the back seat. “I’m pretty sure there’s a rule somewhere that says we’re not allowed to hang out in clubs.”
“Luckily, I have Daddy’s free pass tonight.”
“Ah, aren’t you just Daddy’s little boy?”
Dante glared at me over his shoulder, and I smiled wickedly at him.
By the way Antonio peered at me from the front passenger seat, I saw he was suspicious about my behavior. But fuck him. Fuck all of them. And fuck their rules. I was so sick and tired of always hearing I couldn’t do this, and I couldn’t do that, and this wasn’t the way we did things in our family. What family? A family where we lived and died by our rules, but disregarded the rules of others by breaking the law?
Hypocrites, that was what they all were, a bunch of fucking rule-abiding hypocrites who had never earned a well-deserved dime in their lives.
The rest of the drive to the club was eerily quiet. My mood was starting to rub off on everyone in close proximity to me. I was even willing to bet my brothers knew exactly what I was so pissed about. It wasn’t that difficult to figure out, since everyone knew Dad had issues with me studying and trying to live my own life instead of being another puppet on a string.
Within half an hour, Dante parked the car outside the club, but as I was about to get out, Antonio turned in his seat to face me. “I don’t want trouble tonight, Karina.”
“Oh, my God, are you serious?” This is un-fucking-believable.
“I’m dead serious. You stay close. I don’t want you out of my sight.”
I crossed my arms and pouted. Yes…I pout. “Fine, bodyguard. Anything else? Would you like me to duct tape my hip to yours? Or maybe I could put a big flashing neon sign on my forehead that reads ‘I have no life!’”
Antonio rolled his eyes. “Grow up, Karina. And stop being so dramatic.”
“Grow up, Karina. And stop being so dramatic,” I mocked in my best Antonio I’m the boss voice.
Antonio got out of the car, and Dante turned in his seat, staring at me.
“What?”
“Will you be okay, Karina? You know…if he shows up?”
I knew exactly who he was referring to. The mistake I wished I had the strength to forget. The demon I wished I had the power to slay. The motherfucking asshole who played me for the naïve young girl I was four years ago.
When my eyes met Dante’s, I saw the concern in his gaze. Being the youngest of three children and growing up with two older brothers was never easy. Antonio was six years older than I was, and my father had basically drilled the responsibility of looking out for his little sister into him since the day I was born. Living with that kind of responsibility hanging over him had somehow influenced our relationship. Antonio had always seen me as the little sister he needed to take care of, the burden. Never as the grown woman I was today.
Dante, on the other hand, was only two years older than I was and more like a friend than a bodyguard. We were similar in so many ways, including our need to live our own lives. We just went about it in different ways. Dante by rebelling every now and then, and me running away to university to get away from home.
But one thing was for certain. If it weren’t for Dante supporting me, I didn’t know how I would have coped with the heartbreak and humiliation I had to endure years ago. At first, I didn’t know whether it was a good idea to tell him. But that decision was made for me when Dante found me in my car, still parked in the garage, crying my eyes out. The words just came out. I couldn’t stop myself from pouring my heart out to him that day. And thank God I did. He was my rock when I needed him most. Of course, it took a lot of persuading to stop him from slitting Enzio’s throat. I’ve never seen Dante as angry as I did that day. But eventually I made him promise to keep my secret. I didn’t want anyone else to know. It was something I hoped I would eventually be able to take to my grave…but my instincts told me I wouldn’t be so damn lucky.
I tugged nervously at the hem of my dress. “Let’s hope he doesn’t show up.”
Dante glanced out the passenger side window. “Yeah, let’s hope. I’m still not over my need to see that fucker bleed.” He looked back at me. “Come on. Let’s go and get a drink so you can calm down. Red isn’t your color.”
“Red?”
“Your neck and cheeks.”
Fuck. I always got flushed when I was angry and worked up. In fact, I got flushed when I was shy, embarrassed, or experienced just about any type of emotion. I was a flusher.
Dante got out of the car and opened my door, waiting for me to get out. Naturally, I would choose that moment to fail miserably at getting out of the car in a mini dress with my dignity intact.
“Well, shit,” I muttered.
The smug grin on Dante’s face practically begged me to punch him. That was one good thing that came out of growing up with two boys—I knew how to pack a mean punch.
Dante closed the car door. “I told you that dress was too—”
“Shut up.”
Our way into the club went down exactly as I suspected, with me sardined between two brick walls. Antonio walked up front—as always—while Dante was on my left, slightly behind me. I rolled my eyes the entire way. Probably not the most attractive thing to do, but I reckoned I was entitled to a little childish behavior.
I was seriously starting to think I’d be having much more fun if I were home and stuck at the dinner table with Mom and Dad.