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Dom and Donna, my step-siblings, sneak into my room. Dom is five years older than me, my self-appointed protector. Donna’s two years older than me, my best friend. I spend my last night in Chicago, in the only home I’ve known, crying myself to sleep, while Dom holds me close and Donna holds my hand.
“This isn’t goodbye, Sister,” Donna whispers with tears in her eyes.“We’ll see each other all the time,” Dom promises.
The next morning, I get into the car and walk away from my life.
Chapter One
Natalie—Present Day
“Are you evenlistening to me?” Maya asks, breaking through my thoughts.
Bringing my gaze back to her, I say, “What? Of course!”
I must’ve zoned out.
She takes a bite of her salad, rolling her eyes. “No, you’re not!” She laughs. “Hellooo? It’s your birthday! Come on, pay attention!”
Maya Villanueva has been my best friend since we met at NYU. I was a freshman, and she was a sophomore. We ran into each other at a mixer and hit it off immediately. We are total opposites. For starters, she’s strikingly gorgeous, with glowing dark golden skin, long curly black hair, curves every woman envies, legs to die for, and extremely extroverted.Honestly,what’s it like being God’s favorite? She’s always in an assortment of colors; her outfits are always bold and bright. She loves yellow, hot pink, emerald-green, royal-blue, and purple, all at once. Somehow, she makes it work.
I’m the opposite. Short, petite—but with my training, my body is pretty toned. My long, straight, black hair goes to my butt, and I stick to mostly neutrals—pink is always my go-to color if I need a “pop” of color. I’m not that girly or boring, I just don’t want to—can’t—draw attention to myself. I’m not introverted, but with the way I was raised, I definitely had an acute sense of danger, while Maya doesn’t have a cautious bone in her body.
And then there’s the secret. I can’t afford to make a mess. I can’t be myself, whoever she is. Sometimes, I feel like I’m living a half-life, going through the motions but not really experiencing it.
“Oh, is your hottie of abest friend—after me, of course—coming into town?” she inquires, as if she’s talking about a stranger and not someone she’s known for years.
Maya is asking about my step-brother Dominic. She doesn’t know he’s my step-brother. No one does. Everyone just thinks the Violantes are close family friends.
“Gross, Maya. I’m eating. He’s not hot. But, yes, he’s never missed a birthday. He’ll be here for two weeks. Donna is coming, too, next week, with Cesare,” I respond, plucking a piece of chicken from her salad.
“Oh my god, hesois! I wish I had anold family friend,” she says with air quotes, “that stayed in touch with me like he does. You know he’s in love with you, right? When are you gonna tap that?”
“I’m gonna stop you right there.” I put my hand out to gesture for her to stop talking as my food nearly came back up. “Nobody says ‘tap that’ anymore, and he is certainly not in love with me. I promise you that. He’s like a brother to me.”
She throws her head back, laughing.
I don’t blame her—or anyone for thinking so. He has a protective streak people, sometimes, mistake for jealousy and romantic feelings. He has quite the temper at times.
“I love when Donna comes into town. I’ll have to text her so we can coordinate your big night. Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours. I have everything planned. And if you’rejust friends,then you wouldn’t mind if I took him for a ri—”
“Don’t! Stop!” I pretend to gag. “And not because I like him. You can have him. I just don’t need the details.”
Cringe.
Blood couldn’t make us closer. He’s one of the only people who knows the real me, even the darkest parts. He knows all my secrets, mainly because he had witnessed most of them, but he’s as loyal as they come. He’s also terrifying when he wants to be, which works in his favor. As Cesare Violante’s first born, he is going to be the Outfit’s next capo.Boss. Cesare is my stepfather, my Papa, and even though I’m Chinese-American, the Italian mafia raised Dom, Donna, and me. This isn’t even the biggest thing we’re hiding.
Donatella or Donna—unless you want your fingers chopped off—and I are as close as sisters could be. She’s not your typical mafia princess. She’s not docile by any means; she’s tough, outspoken, and sharp as a tack. She’ll take your eye out without batting a lash, then turn around and bake the best damn cake you’ve ever had. She’s a math and economics genius, which is why she and Maya get along so well. I’m convinced Donna could single-handedly control the stock market if she wanted to.
You’d never guess how we were raised by looking at her, though. We never dare speak of our real lives to outsiders, non-mafiosos.
So, every day, I pretend. Only three people in the world know the real me: Papa, Dom, and Donna. The only family I’ve ever known.
“So, when does Dom land?” Maya asks, breaking me out of my thoughts again, picking up a piece of shrimp off my plate with her fork.
“He gets in this evening, and we’re going to dinner at—”
“Ming’s. I know, sweetie. It’s Thursday,” she says with a smile.
“You should come with us!”
