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“Why not? Are you pregnant?”
“Shh… no, Mom. I’m not pregnant. Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I have a headache. All the sulfites aren’t helping.”
She set a flute in front of me. “Live a little. If you drink enough, that headache will go away.”
I took the glass to make her happy and raised it to my lips. “Salute.”
“Salute.” Mom chugged the entire glass in one swig.
Angelo walked up to the table with his father and brothers. He stared down at me, adjusting the gold cufflink at his wrist. My man looked amazing in a tux, he owned every speck of fabric attached to his body. When Angelo moved, he was graceful, as if every step was carefully planned out. He wore a suit every day except to school. But even in a charcoal three-piece tailored number, he’d had stitched by hand, my man still looked out of his element at this party. He had to fake a smile every time someone spoke to him.
I loved when he smiled. Angelo didn’t do it often enough. It saddened me to see the light which was once in his eyes go out slowly. The weight of his family and the sins of his past were dragging us both down. This lifestyle was sucking all of us dry.
Angelo sat next to me and hooked his arm around my back. “Having fun?”
I coughed. “Is that a joke?”
He gave me one of his signature smirks that set my panties on fire. “Try talking to all these politicians. I feel like an imposter.”
Made men were nothing like the politicians and donors spread throughout the room. But when it came to money, no one cared where it came from as long as it was the same shade of green.
“That’s because you’re an imposter,” I joked.
He slid his hand up to the back of my head, pulled me into his chest, and whispered, “The only time I don’t have to pretend is when I’m with you.”
“Me, too.”
Angelo released me when his father tapped him on the shoulder to grab his attention. “Come with me to meet Senator Ackerman.”
Angelo and his father laughed as if it were some private joke I was not meant to understand. He nodded his head and then turned to me. “I’ll be right back, G. Don’t move.”
“Do I have to ask you for permission to pee?” I deadpanned with a goofy grin on my face.
Angelo pressed his lips to my forehead. “Don’t get cute with me. You know how much I like it when you fight me.”
“Oh, I do.” I twirled
a curl around my finger and peeked up at him as he pushed out his chair and rose to his feet.
He winked.
Angelo disappeared into the throng with his father, leaving me at a mostly empty table. His brothers were on the opposite side of the circular banquet table. They were nursing glasses of scotch and whispering to each other so no one could hear. Pete even covered the side of his face with his glass so I couldn’t read his lips if I’d tried. Angelo’s brothers were a point of contention with me. I hated that they came with the package.
If I wanted Angelo, it was all or nothing. Some days, I wondered if I would survive a few days without him. I was so co-dependent on Angelo, desperate for his touch and the sweet words he whispered to me when we were alone. But we were in danger. The longer I stayed with him, the more I put everyone I loved at risk. But it was hard to ignore the way my heart pounded for him.
“Honey, you look miserable.” My dad sat in Angelo’s open chair and raised a highball glass to his lips. He gulped down the amber liquid, most of it in one sip.
“I’m just bored,” I admitted. “These parties are not my thing. I’d rather spend my weekend on the couch. The last few months of school are draining me.”
Dad nodded, as if he agreed, and took another swig. Unlike my mother, my dad almost never drank. He said alcohol affected his judgment too much, and he had to be on his A game around his friends.
That night, he was off. After being kidnapped, he was more on edge than normal. Being around Angelo Sr. and his family made him jumpy. We all suspected the Morellis of wrongdoing, though we couldn’t prove it.
“You’ll get through it,” Dad said. “We’re so proud of you. You’re set to graduate at the top of your class and with honors. Any law firm in the city would be lucky to have you.”
“A few firms have extended me offers with the promise I pass the Bar, but I’m not sure I want to jump right into working for someone else when you need me at Carlini Construction.”
He set his glass on the table. “No, nothing doing, Gianna. Go… live your life. You have to separate yourself from the family business.”
