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Chapter 1: Katrina
“Partyingagain?”
I pause at the question. I hadn’t expected anyone to be in the dark house. My eyes search out the voice, and my sister, Luna, steps forward. She’s studying me, and I try not to flinch.
My lips curve upward as I force myself to smile. “I wasn’t. I didn’t even have a drink.” I’m known for making bad decisions. My heart has a way of leading me, and it always turns out wrong.
“Where were you?” There’s no trust within my family when it comes to me. I’ve hurt them before, and now they expect it.
I slip off my heels, and the action lowers my height by three inches. “Looking for Gia.” I refuse to let my voice hitch when I answer. Our youngest sister, Gia, is missing because of me. I can’t even think about that ill-fated night. Everyone looks down on me and judges. But they have never lived what I’ve been through.
“Looking like that?” Her tone is condescending, and I’d love nothing more than to slap that look off her face.
My eyes widen, offended. I’m wearing a miniskirt and a crop top, perfectly acceptable for my age. Without me wearing my heels, she looks down at me. I want out of this life. I’m tired of being a mafia princess who everyone hates. I’ve been called a bitch. A slut. And one of my favorites: a spoiled princess. I’m the black sheep of my family. They are ruthless killers in the mafia—royalty among criminals who have their fingers in everything illegal. YetI’mthe bad one.
I sigh, knowing I’ll never win. “Goodnight, Luna.” I walk past her toward my bedroom.
For the last month, I’ve been looking for our sister. The guilt consumes me. When everyone is asleep, I cry for the damage I’ve caused. As soon as I right my wrong and find Gia, I’m out of here. I can hardly continue at this pace. The mafia world is too hectic and I easily tumble down its whirlwind where drugs flow smoothly, and you’re constantly looking over your shoulder. I need to slow down, attempt to enjoy life rather than always being on edge. I’m going to live a regular life and finally be happy.
Thenextnight,myphone buzzes with a text as I walk into a high-class lounge.
Sophia: I have to work late. I can’t make it anymore.
Tonight, I’m looking to escape my reality. My best friend, Sophia, was meant to meet me here, and now I’m alone to contemplate how I want my life to go. I need a nice man with a real, legitimate job. Someone who could learn to love me for me.
This lounge is nowhere near my family’s territory, nowhere close to any mafia dealings. Inside these walls, all I see are regular people. I exhale in relief, spotting men in expensive suits looking for nothing but a fun time. A way to escape the pressures of their regular lives.
Just. Like. Me.
When I glance around, I notice every woman has a wine glass, and I smile at the bartender as I take my seat. “White wine, please.” My usual scotch on the rocks might be too attention-grabbing for this side of town. For a woman, that is.
I take that back.
Formostpeople. Seeing the draft beer and cocktails on all the other tables.
Except…
My eyes can’t help but zero in on the one man who is holding the drink I actually want.
He’s wearing a crisp black dress shirt. His cuffs are rolled up to right below his elbows, showcasing the red and black ink along his skin. Thick veins protrude the artwork, and it has me wondering how much of his skin is painted. My eyes continue to slide down his body, appreciating the view. He’s wearing dark jeans, unlike the rest of the men in dress pants.
His movements are jerky as he talks to his tablemates, his features harder than most. But he holds every man’s attention impeccably. I can’t help but think he carries himself like a true leader. It makes me wonder if I could distract him from his meeting. Would it be easy? The other part of me says he’s too strong a man. I need someone a little more pliable. Impressionable.
I laugh at myself and take a sip of the wine that had been placed on the counter.
Someone moldable would never satisfy me. They would leave me unsatisfied and make me feel bad about my decisions.
“I wouldn’t set my sights on him if I were you.” The bartender nods toward the man I was staring at. “He never leaves here with a woman. He’s all work and no play. And if you ask me, he’s not friendly.”
My thumb and finger slide up the stem of the glass. “Good thing I wasn’t looking.”
The bartender chuckles, leaving me alone. I fight the urge to look over my shoulder at the man one more time and force myself to focus only on thoughts of Gia.
There’s still no sign of her. I hate knowing that I was the one who drove her away. I told her she was a shitty person. And then, to spite her, I put that dumb fucking needle in my arm.
I’m not a drug addict.
Says the girl who overdosed.
