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I want to be with Bianka. I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel for that vibrant, spirited woman with the voice of an angel. I fell for her hard during the theater class Lucca and I took as an elective our freshman year in an effort to irritate our father.
That smartass move turned out to impact my life in a way I had never imagined possible. Bianka’s quick wit, contagious love of life, and intense passion for theater captured my attention from day one.
And then I heard her sing. I thought my heart might stop from the devastatingly beautiful sound. I couldn’t get her out of my head, but I didn’t want to make a move on her too soon. She’s one of those girls who must hear she’s beautiful all the time. Men watch her constantly, their eyes following her around the room.
I didn’t want to be just another panting dog begging her for attention. So I took my time, made her laugh, and tried to prove I could make her life more fun. And when I finally got the sign that she might be interested in me, I made my move.
She let me kiss her, and god, the moment our lips met, I thought the world might have frozen in place. Just stopped spinning altogether.
I knew I would have to tread carefully after the argument she and her brother got in. But I was willing to risk it. I had to have her. Then my father stepped in and obliterated my plans.
Generally, I don’t mind pissing off my father. In truth, I kind of enjoy it. I’m one of the few people in the world who can get under his skin without risking death, and humiliating him has been a practice Lucca and I have employed from an early age to fight back against the morally repugnant life he’s forced upon our family.
If he had just planned to punish me for dating Bianka, even if he’d withheld my allowance over it, put me out on the street–a threat he gives me regularly–I still would have pursued her. I’ve never wanted anyone so desperately in my life, never felt so passionate about a single goal. But I couldn’t defy my father without hurting Bianka, so I tried to let her go.
For two years, I tried. But I just can’t stand seeing Lucca and Nicolo so happy and knowing I could have that, too, and not act on it. So I found a way to be near Bianka without making it obvious to my father.That’swhy I changed my major to theater.
“Have you picked theater to further this imbecilic act of yours?” Lorenzo demands. “Or do you think I would let you turn into a disgrace to the family name?”
“Maybe I just enjoy the arts,” I suggest. “Theater’s an expressive medium. Onemanypeople consider a legitimate pursuit. Besides, I think I have a natural talent for it.” I blow on my fingernails and polish them against the lapel of my tailored Italian suit.
“I loved you in the play you did freshman year,” Silvia says encouragingly, offering me a sweet smile. “I think you’ll make a great performer.”
I smile back, my defenses weakening slightly in the wake of my little sister’s genuine kindness. How someone so sweet could come from the parents we have, I don’t know. She always has something nice to say. And I adore Silvia for it. I need to tell her as much after dinner, tell her that her words mean a lot even if they won’t change our father’s mind.
“Silence!” my father snaps, turning a withering gaze on my little sister. “You’ll stay out of this if you know what’s good for you.”
Silvia cringes away from his wrath, and my protective instincts kick in, but Nicolo’s already there, his hand gently finding my sister’s shoulder to silently comfort her. The sharp look my older brother gives me, however, tells me he blames me for Silvia’s tongue-lashing. He’s not wrong. I should know better than to needle our father.
Nicolo doesn’t necessarily like our father, but he follows duty over emotion. And while he might not be like our father, we’ve never seen eye to eye on how to manage him. I struggle morally with being involved in our family, choosing to antagonize our patriarch as a way of standing my ground for my beliefs.
Nicolo seems to compartmentalize it all, separating any negative emotions and choosing to carry on tradition because a family like ours can’t simply set aside our lifestyle. It would be the end of us if we decided to stop our violent ways.
Our father has made too many enemies for the Marchettis to just give it all up for an honest life. So I know Nicolo does what he does to protect our family.
I can see it in the tension in Nicolo’s shoulders that he just wants me to shut the fuck up. To do as I’m told and not make waves. Because he plans on riding this out and making things better once he takes charge of the family business.
“Well,” my father says, “whether you enjoy being a circus performer or not, you will change your major back, or I’ll cut you off entirely.”
And there it is. My father’s trump card he throws down anytime I get too far out of line. Frustration flares up in me as I feel my plan slipping through my fingers. I haven’t even had the opportunity to win Bianka back, and my father’s taking her away once again, unwittingly this time.
“Do it,” I say flatly. “Honestly, I’ll give up my inheritance and work a shitty job for minimal pay if it means getting you off my back.”
I’m playing a dangerous game. One I don’t often mess with because I know I could do so much more good in the world with access to my father’s money. Lucca and I have talked about how we just need to hold out until Nicolo takes over–which seems to be looming on the horizon. He will let us put good back into the world, unlike our greedy, self-serving father.
But I’m fucking tired of my father dictating my life by holding money over my head. Fire flashes in his eyes and his lips curl upward, warning me that he just might do it this time. I might not have a place to stay tonight.
Then I’m caught by surprise as Nicolo interjects unexpectedly. My brother doesn’t usually come to my defense. He saves up his interventions for when Silvia needs protection from my father’s verbal abuse. “Maybe you should talk to Anya about how hard things can be without money before you go throwing away our father’s generosity,” he says frankly.
Anya’s cheeks grow pink as the eyes around the table shift to her. A flicker of regret flashes across Nicolo’s face as Anya’s gaze drops to the floor and his fingers twine with hers in silent apology.
“I wouldn’t wish it on anyone,” she murmurs gently, and when her sad blue eyes meet mine, my heart twinges.
I can see all the pain and suffering she must have endured before becoming a part of our family, and a wave of pity rises in my chest. I feel bad for having triggered those uncomfortable memories with my smart mouth.
The emotion written across her face also makes me think twice about antagonizing my father further. I can’t do much good in the world if I’m too busy shooting myself in the foot. I need to think of the bigger picture.
“Okay, fine,” I say, pulling my thoughts together and turning my eyes back to my father’s smug face. “But just hear me out. A good public speaker would do our family wonders in public relations and legal matters. Theater can help me become the family spokesperson. Think of the fires I could put out, the doors I could open by knowing how to persuade people. Sure, theater itself might not be a masculine major, but I picked it so I could be useful to the family business.”
