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Still worried my parents might find out about tonight's escapades, I ask, “Won’t anyone recognize us?”
Abbie turns her body to face me, and gripping hold of my shoulders, she locks eyes with me. “Girl, we’ve been locked up in a Humboldt International School for girls in Austria. I seriously doubt people even know we exist. We won’t get a chance like this again, so chill and let your hair down.”
She’s right. Chances like this, to just blend in with everyday people – to be an ordinary eighteen-year-old girl – don’t come along often. Not when you’re the daughter of Caruso D’Angelo, one of Italy's most notorious crime bosses.
“Okay,” I smile at my friend. “I’ll relax.”
“Drinks. That’s what we need.” She waves a hand in the air, and a server quickly comes closer. “Two cosmopolitans and two lemon drop shots, please.”
When the server leaves, Abbie grins at me. “I’ve had lemon drop shots once. You’ll love them.”
“And cosmopolitans?”
“My mom loves to drink them. You can hardly taste the alcohol.”
I force myself to unwind and shove away the fear of being caught. What’s the use of going through all the trouble of sneaking out if I’m going to ruin the night by worrying?
I glance down at theDolce & Gabbananapa leather pants that fit me like a second skin and a silver, sequined crop top. Paired with my favoriteJimmy Choosilver shimmer, suede high heels. They always make my legs look longer than they are.
I set my crystal-embellished Bon Bon mini bag on the table and lean back against the sofa. “So we drink and dance?” Taking a deep breath, I glance at the various groups of people seated at other tables.
“And eye-fuck all the attractive guys. It’s time to let our hair down, and later we can check out the rooftop bar.” Abbie leans closer to me. “Ooh, the guy at two o’clock doesn’t look too bad.”
I glance at the man sitting at the bar, then scrunch my nose. “He looks like he’s in his thirties and drowning his sorrows.”
“So?” She gives me a mischievous grin. “Age is just a number, and I can make him forget about his problems.”
Laughing at my friend, who’s always been the brave one between us, I shake my head. “You’re incorrigible.”
She shifts into a comfortable position, her eyes scanning over the men. “One of these days, an engagement ring will be slapped onto our left hands for an arranged marriage. I want one night without any rules and obligations.”
I feel her words deep in my soul.
Abbie turns her light brown eyes to me. “If you could be anyone else, who would you be?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Anything besides a mafia princess?”
“Yeah.”
The server brings our drinks, and as soon as he leaves, Abbie hands me one of the shots. “Think about your answer while we drink.”
My lips curve up, and I watch as she downs the alcohol. When she doesn’t pull a disgusted face, I swallow my shot.
The liquid is so sour I pinch my eyes shut, fighting and failing to keep from shuddering. “Oh, my God.” Another shiver ripples through me. “That’s sour as hell.”
Abbie’s laughter is filled with amusement, then she hands me the cosmopolitan.
“This better not be sour,” I mutter before I take a cautious sip. Flavors explode over my tongue, everything from cranberry sweetness to a slight lemon tartness. “Ooooh.” I give Abbie a smile of approval before indulging in another sip.
“Good. Right?”
“Yes.” I give the empty shot glass an unimpressed look. “But it’s a no for the lemon shots.”
She raises her cocktail glass to mine. “To one night of fun, freedom, and hopefully filthy hot sex.”
“From your lips to God’s ears,” I grin at her.
Not the sex, though. I’m sharing that with someone special and not a one-night stand.
