Sera
“You be good, baby.”
I smile as my father plants a quick kiss on my forehead and nudges me toward the front door. I bat my eyelashes at him, ignoring Leo, who stands on my right, his black eyes burning the skin on the side of my face. “Always.”
I pull my long black coat tight around me as I turn and descend the wide, stone steps that lead to the sleek town car waiting for me.
“Keep a close eye on her,” Dad says to Leo. “If she gets away from you again…”
I roll my eyes with a smirk as James, my driver, opens my door.
“She won’t.”
I hear the hard bottoms of Leo’s shoes as he storms down the steps and slips into the car behind mine. I glance over my shoulder and wave to my father, who offers one back. I see the warning in his eyes, his threat to punish me if I act out again. Why can’t he be a normal father? I’m twenty years old. I don’t need an escort—or a guard to watch my every move. It’s freaking suffocating. I know he means well, I know he does, but the life he chose for himself shouldn’t affect the life I want for me.
Being the only child—and only daughter—of Marco Ventilli, Don of the Las Vegas family, is no walk in the park. You’d think with all this money and power I’d be shitting all over this town, but truth be told, I’ve barely seen what this town has to offer a young girl like me. I can’t break a fingernail without my father finding out about it and I’m at my wits’ end. I used to be okay with it all until I came of age and wanted to live my life the way my friends did. It’s through them that I saw just how trapped I was.
At the age of fifteen, my parents promised my hand to a made man of another family—the Chicago Outfit. I was told I would marry him on my eighteenth birthday and that he’d take my virginity as a gift from my parents. I was mortified by the duties expected of me, so mortified that I took matters into my own hands and gave my virginity to a not-so-nice boy in a dressing room after school when I was sixteen. Why? Because I wanted to do it on my own terms and I didn’t want to be in pain on my wedding night. I told my mother about it, hoping she’d praise me for being so clever—or to stop the wedding out of embarrassment at the very least. Instead, she slapped me back to the sixteenth century in a fit of tears. Turns out, it’s easy to tell if a girl is a virgin or not and I was in big trouble come my wedding night.
I thought about ending my life as my seventeenth birthday rushed by, but I decided against it since my “husband” was going to kill me anyway and then declare war on my father.
Thankfully, my husband-to-be was shot dead outside his strip club eight months before our wedding and it all went away. It was a fucking miracle. I thought I’d gotten away with it too, until I found out later that it was my father who killed my fiancé. He knew I wasn’t a virgin. He told me he knew what I’d done the moment I’d done it, thanks to Mom. I was overrun with guilt at the fact he allowed me to lie to his face and horrified that he let me live with the fear of the consequence of my actions…for years. As punishment for what I did, he cut me off from the world even more. For a long time, I couldn’t walk the drive to get the mail, but now, after incessant nagging on my behalf, I’m allowed out provided it’s under the supervision of a guard. I can’t come and go as I please, not until I’m married off and I’m someone else’s problem.
I’m getting a little too old for marriage…or so my mother’s friends keep pointing out whenever I attend their stupid brunches. Apparently, I’m embarrassing the family, but in all honesty, I don’t mind it. I hope I never marry.
Ditching my train of thought, I peer into Leo’s car. He watches me intently, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel. His eyes are narrowed directly at me and I can’t help but smile at him. I have one hell of a night planned, Leo, and you can’t stop me.
I slip into my car and slide along the black leather seats until I’m sitting dead center. When I’m comfortable, my driver closes the door. In a few minutes, he pulls the car around the elegant, white stone water fountain in the center of our drive and slowly rolls toward the gigantic, wrought iron gate. As he drives, I text my friend Naomi that I’ll meet her inside the club in a little under an hour. First, I have to shake Leo. My father thinks I’m seeing a movie with my girlfriends. I showed him fake text messages about the meet up just to prove it too.
I slip out of my plain black flats and open my handbag. Reaching inside, I pull out my favorite pair of Gucci heels and stuff my flats in their place. Slipping into the heels feels like I’m soaking my feet in silk and fucking rainbows. I never want to take them off.
Sighing, I drop back against the leather, smoothing my palms down the length of my black coat. Tonight is going to go one of two ways. One, I get away from Leo, I have a good time, and Leo doesn’t say shit to my father about losing me for the second time. Or, Leo is going to freak out and tell my father immediately, who’ll put a call out and have just about everyone in Las Vegas on the lookout for me. Normally, I wouldn’t play with those odds, but I take solace in the fact this will be the second time Leo has lost me. He’d rather take his chances turning Vegas upside down looking for me than he would admitting another failure to my father.
It’s not long until James pulls the town car in front of the worn movie theatre. I wait patiently while he exits the car and then circles to open the door adjacent the sidewalk. When I get out into the crisp, night air, I glance around.
Nothing.
Excitement boils and bubbles inside me when I don’t see Leo’s car anywhere. Could it be? I start forward and turn away from the wide movie theatre doors, lifting my phone to my face. This turned out to be easier than I thought. James doesn’t say anything as I walk down the street toward the main part of town. He doesn’t get paid enough to say anything, and the extra pocket money I give him keeps him on my side, not my father’s.
“Those shoes are a little dramatic for a screening of King Arthur, don’t you think?”
I freeze mid-text, my eyes thinning to complete my scowl. Party pooper. Slowly, I turn around and there he is. The cock-blocker…or whatever the equivalent is to that in this situation. I bite my tongue at the sight of his smug expression and force an innocent smile.
“It’s Charlie Hunnam,” I point out, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not wearing flats. What if he’s here?”
“I doubt he’s here.” Leo rolls his dark, espresso eyes and stuffs his large hands into the pockets of his matching pressed slacks. “Where are your friends?”
I slip my phone into the pocket of my coat. “They’re already inside.”
He regards me curiously. In his stare, I can see him overthinking the situation, trying to predict every single one of my tricks, but there’s nothing he can do to stop me from meeting Naomi tonight.
Eventually, Leo steps to the side and gestures toward the theatre doors. “After you.”
I smile sweetly at him. “Thanks.”
As soon as I pass his peripheral, my smile melts into a glare.
Inside the theatre, Leo stands against a far wall while I buy my tickets. For added measure, I buy popcorn, a medium soda, and a bag of sour Skittles. For a moment, I wonder what his plan is, because if he comes into the actual cinema, it’s going to be harder for me to get away, and I didn’t pack running shoes. Thankfully, after he chats to the ushers, Leo stands right by the door and remains there as I saunter past. My father’s men are a lot of things, but stealthy isn’t one of them. Leo sticks out like a sore thumb in his fitted black suit and his angry stare.
I smile victoriously when he doesn’t follow me and I take a triumphant sip of my Coke before dumping it in the bin provided, along with my popcorn. I stuff my Skittles into my bag as I make my way along an aisle to the front of the room and out an emergency exit. As the door swings open and the bright lights of Vegas burn my retinas, I grin widely.
Sera: one.
Leo: zero.