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“Oh, good,” she says, clapping, “but only if you’re sure! Seriously, I wouldn’t be mad if you’d rather stay in.” In the same breath, she follows with, “We should totally pregame tonight.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t think that’s how pregaming works, Maya.”
“Sure it does,” she says with a wink.
“Well, either way, I can’t. Donna and Cesare are flying in today, so I’m having dinner with all of them.”
“I think it’s so amazing that Cesare takes care of you as if you were his own daughter.”
She doesn’t know the irony of that statement. She knew I wasn’t close with my adoptive parents, who she thought were my real parents. They’re good people. They’ve just been through some trauma.
“The conference starts next week. Are you excited?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
It works like a charm. She doesn’t pry any further and goes off about the upcoming conference Columbia was hosting, for which she was on the board. She knew I didn’t like talking about my family. Not that it was bad—it was just hard to keep a story straight if she knew too much, and she definitely couldn’t know the truth.
* * *
Later in the evening, I’m with Donna in the penthouse suite at the hotel she, Dom, and Papa are staying at. We’re rewatching our guilty pleasure, Gossip Girl, a show we could recite by heart.
Dom and Papa have been chatting in the office for what feels like hours, and I can’t help but feel like the other shoe is about to drop. Some sort of doom is coming. I’m trying to stay positive, at least for my birthday. Everyone came out for it.
“You want to know what the most unrealistic part of this show is?” Donna asks as she shovels popcorn into her mouth.
“Do tell,” I respond.
Neither of us bother to look away from the screen.
“Not one mafia storyline. I’m genuinely surprised the mob never made an appearance in any episodes with these egotistical billionaire types—you know how many of those people Papa has in his back pocket. You expect me to believe Serena didn’t once get tangled up with one?” Donna huffs.
I laugh at her assessment. We spend the afternoon catching up on life. We haven’t stopped talking since they got off the plane this afternoon. It’s good to have Donna around. It’s nice to just be myself.
I never had that with my adoptive parents. They were kind, never abused me, but there was always the giant elephant in the room. So, when I was eighteen, I moved out. I didn’t see the point of staying; we weren’t a family, and their job was to keep me safe until I was an adult. We still talk now and then, but I’d never actually betheirNatalie.
Just as I was taking a trip down memory lane, someone knocks and opens Donna’s door, breaking my train of thought. Ronnie, Papa’s right-hand man, comes in.
“Natalie, the boss would like a word with you.”
Donna and I look at each other.
“Don’t worry, it’s probably just your birthday present!” She pushes me off the couch with an encouraging smile.
I nod and head into the office. The sinking feeling is back.
When I walk in, I find Cesare sitting at the desk and Dom sitting on the edge. Definitely not my present. By looking at their expressions, I have a feeling my life would change. I stop at the door, too afraid to step farther.
Papa gestures to the seat in front of him and Dom. “Mia dolce bambina, please sit.”
Suddenly, I’m taken back to the moment Papa told a six-year-old me he was sending me away.
Dom looks angry, which wasn’t new. But he also looks anxious. That’s what worries me.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I sit.
Papa knows I hate beating around the bush. As if he could read my mind, he spoke again.
“So direct and to the point.” He laughs.
His eyes wrinkle around the corners, emphasizing his age. He’s always been the big, scary, handsome protector. Don’t get me wrong—he still is, but the years are showing on him now. In my mind, I still see a man in his early thirties, not fifties. Dom sighs and rubs his face. I look at him and back at Papa, waiting for someone to speak.
