I roll my eyes. We have this discussion every few weeks. I personally don’t see what’s so wrong with being prepared. And how can any knowledge be a waste?
“Good night, Giovanni. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
—
My mind is all over the place as I pull into my parking spot in the garage below my building. Holy shit. Me and Lucy in New York. Together. Not that she’ll know that, but the thought still sends shivers down my spine.
I get out of the car, and lock it using my remote. The elevator takes me up to my floor. The hallway lights up as I step through the doors and I make my way down to my apartment.
What does Giovanni know about my father’s business? I’ve been looking into my family’s interests for years, but I always come to a dead end as soon as I get close. Apart from the few things I was able to dig up from the newspapers, there was little information anywhere. Going to the police was never an option. The first rule of the Mafia was you never talk, especially to the cops.
At first, I was angry. I wanted revenge against those who hurt my family. Now I wasn’t sure what I wanted, or what I’d do with the knowledge if I had it. Maybe that’s what Giovanni had been waiting for—me to mature enough to understand that revenge is not always the best path.
I was fifteen when my parents were killed. Young enough that I’d had no in-depth knowledge of my father’s shady dealings. But looking back, I realized there’d always been signs that things weren’t always aboveboard in my family. Late-night meetings, my father disappearing for days on end, the numerous times I was followed home from school: they all suggested that my father was not the man I thought he was.
My phone vibrates as I’m unlocking my front door. Once inside, I fumble for it in my pocket. I don’t recognize the number, but I can tell that it’s Lucy.
Lucy: Sorry I had to run off before. You know Bella hates to wait :p
I chuckle, and text back a reply.
Me: That’s okay. I hope you’re having some fun for once. What’s with the new number?
Lucy: Two phones. I wouldn’t put it past my father to have my other one tapped. And, I resent your comment. Are you implying I never have any fun?
I’m impressed that she’s sneaky enough to have a second phone that her father doesn’t know about.
Me: No, I’m merely suggesting that sometimes you work too hard. So…are you having fun?
Lucy: The highlight of my night is texting you. Somehow going out with Bell always ends up with me sitting at the bar waiting for her to finish with the line of guys wanting to dance with her.
Me: I find it hard to believe you don’t have your own line. You’re not sending out that Don’t-approach, I’m-a-bitch vibe, are you?
Lucy: I’m too shocked by your response to respond.
Me: I’m pretty sure that was a response.
Lucy: Ha-ha. You’re so funny. I’m going to miss your face, you know that?
My stomach churns as I text back that I was going to miss her too. I feel so guilty about lying to her. I’d be seeing her every single day. Only she’ll have no idea I’m even there. In the back of my mind, I’m terrified of when she finds out. Not if, because I know everything comes out eventually. I couldn’t handle her hating me.
I need her in my life, in one way or another.
Chapter 6
Lucy
I slide the key into the lock and turn, my heart racing, as Bella bounces up and down next to me. This is really happening. And if letting my father choose and pay for this place was the price I had to pay, it was worth it. The building is literally across the street from the studio where I’ll be spending most of the next eight weeks training. It has more security than home—which says a lot, considering my father, but I’m used to that.
While I don’t get involved in my father’s business, I know enough to be cautious. As respected as he is, he has a lot of enemies, people who would relish the chance to bring him down. I’m the most important thing in his life—which puts me at risk too.
Part of me is disappointed that I’m not able to experience the thrill of finding my own place, but the bright side was it had everything I could have wanted anyway. With two bedrooms, a nice, well-stocked kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances, my own laundry, and even a small balcony, the apartment had sounded perfect when my dad initially told me about it.
Walking inside, I take in the tones of gray and white and the modern architecture of my new pad. It’s fully furnished with expensive, modern pieces that make it feel like I’m staying in an expensive hotel rather than my own place.
“Holy shit, Luce. I wish my parents would fork out the cash for this kind of place.” I laugh, and turn to Bella, shaking my head. I’d been so caught up in the moment that I’d forgotten she was there. “No, seriously. I expected your dad to go all out, but this is insane. I’m totally moving here with you. That’s what the second bedroom is for, right?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.
“Don’t tease me like that,” I grumble. “You know I’d love to have you live in New York with me.” I also knew she’d never leave Chicago. As much as she complained about her parents and her big family, I knew they meant the world to her. Not being able to see her nieces and nephews every day would crush her.
“Okay, so I probably wouldn’t move here, but I’m totally going to visit so much you wouldn’t know I wasn’t living here,” she says, giggling.
“You’re welcome to stay whenever you like. You can even bring your new boyfriend,” I joke.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she grumbles.
“Maybe not yet,” I crack, laughing. “Come on, Bell. I’ve never seen you this way over a guy before.”
“Yeah, well, I have never felt this way before. It’s freaking me out. I mean, I think about him when we’re not together. What’s up with that?” she grumbles.
“Awww, little Bell is in luurve,” I tease.
“Shut up, or I will stop speaking to you. Then what would you do? You’d go crazy sitting in that little room, rocking back and forth with no one to talk to,” she says, her voice smug.
“Okay.” I surrender, holding up my hands. “I’ll change the subject.”
“I’ll do it for you,” she says, putting her tongue out. “So, your first night in New York. What you wanna do?”
“Nothing?” I suggest, a smile forming on my lips.
Bella stretches out on my new sofa while I sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV. She frowns at me, obviously unhappy with my answer. After unpacking and spending most of the afternoon lying down watching movies, I’m both hungry and exhausted. With training starting tomorrow, I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep tonight, and I know Bella is keen to go out and party.
“Fine, let’s go out,” I say, wincing as she lets out a squeal.
“Let me get dressed and we’ll go. I heard about this totally cool little club just down one of the streets on Broadway. Go put on that black sparkly dress I got you last year that you never wear.”
I snort but get to my feet, knowing there’s no use arguing. In my room I forage through my new closet until I find the dress. Slipping it over my head, I tug at the hem, wishing it wasn’t so damn short. Going out naked wouldn’t be much more revealing than this.
Running my brush through my hair, I pile it on top of my head in a messy bun and run some mascara over my lashes. I’m lucky that I have pretty clear skin, meaning I don’t need much makeup. When I’m done, I grab my purse and walk back out into the living room to wait for Bella.
Ten minutes later, she still hasn’t resurfaced.
“Bell?” I call out, taking a seat on the arm of the sofa.
Her muffled reply floats through the room. “Another five minutes.”
I pull out my phone and see a text from Pietro.
Pietro: I assume you’d prefer I contact you on this number? Your father wants to know how you’re doing.
I roll my eyes. I called him when we arrived, but no doubt he is still worried.<
br />
Me: This number is good. The only person who contacts me on the other is my father. Speaking of, doesn’t he know how to work a phone?
Pietro: Trust me. The last thing you want your father to figure out is the joy of texting.
I laugh because he’s right. My father barely leaves me alone as it is.
Me: Tell him I’m fine. Bella is keeping me out of trouble ;)
Pietro: I’m not sure Bella is capable of avoiding trouble, nor will the news that Bella is in charge of your safety make your father happy. Have a good night.
I shove my phone into my purse just as Bella appears, looking hot. She’s gone all out in a sheer black mini dress that shows a lot of skin and a pair of strappy heels. I glance down at my own outfit. Only Bella could make me feel like a nun while wearing a dress like this.
“Ready?” she asks me. I laugh and nod, wanting to add I was ready nearly half an hour ago.
We walk outside, the cool breeze hitting my arms. I shiver and run my hands over my bare skin. The walk to the club is short. People are lining up outside waiting to be let in. We join the line, but the bouncer motions for us to come up front. We do, much to the annoyance of the group of girls still waiting.
“How awesome is this?” Bella grins at me as we walk through the wide double doors.
I know what she means. I can’t believe I’m in New York. Shivers of anticipation race through my body. This is actually happening. Things couldn’t be more perfect than they are right now.
“All we need to do now is get you laid,” she calls out over the crowd.
“Bella!” I gasp, my face going red. There are things you don’t want complete strangers knowing, and that is one of them. I swear I can hear giggling from the people behind us, but maybe that’s just my paranoia.
“What?” she protests, flicking her long blond hair over her shoulder. “You need to loosen up. Imagine how much more fluid your dancing would be if you got some.”
She giggles and shoves me and I can’t help but smile. The truth is, I do want sex. Well, not just sex, but the whole relationship thing.
“My dancing is just fine, thank you very much.”
“Then prove it,” she says, grabbing my arm and dragging me out onto the dance floor. I groan, but indulge her in a few moves. An attractive guy with scruffy shoulder-length dark hair cuts in, spinning Bell away from me.
I’m relieved at the chance to escape. Is it odd that I’m a dancer, yet I hate dancing in bars? Without hesitation, I turn on my heel and march toward the bar, sitting my ass down on a stool. I watch her dance for a moment, shaking my head. It’s always like this when we go out together. Not that I blame guys for wanting to get close to her. She’s so much fun. I smile, realizing how lucky I am to have her as a friend.
I order a drink from the female bartender, then pull out my phone. The guy to my left keeps checking me out, and it’s making me uncomfortable. I need to be doing something. I find Pietro’s last text to me and start a new message. A shiver races through me, a feeling I always get when I talk to him. He’s always been there for me, but the last few years I’ve seen him in a different light. Maybe Bella is right. Maybe I do need to get laid.
—
It’s close to two in the morning when I stumble through my front door, holding a very inebriated Bella. She hasn’t been sick yet, but I’m sure it’s coming. I can tell by the way she is turning a pale shade of green.
“Let’s get you into the bathroom,” I mutter. Fuck. How can someone so small be so damn heavy?
I prop her up against the toilet, and leave her for a moment to fetch some Tylenol. In the kitchen, I can hear her laughing hysterically, which makes me smile. The girl’s crazy.
“Here, take this,” I say, handing her the pills and a glass of water.
She mumbles something that I can’t make out, and that makes us both laugh.
“I feel a little better,” she mumbles, gazing up at me with glazed eyes. “You’re so good to me, Lucy. What would I do without you?”
Oh God, she is getting emotional. Her eyes glisten as the tears begin to roll. Pretty soon, she is bawling her eyes out.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” she sobs, throwing her arms around me. I laugh as tears began to form in my own eyes.
“You’re an idiot.” I chuckle. “I love you and I love that you’re a total dork sometimes. This is what happens when you drink too much.”
“Excuse me, I had one beer.” I raise my eyebrows at her and she makes a face. “Okay, so maybe I lost count after that first one.”
After I help her to her bed and tuck her in, I sneak back to my room. Sighing, I undress. I have a few hours before my first day officially starts, and I’m exhausted. Not that I would have slept much anyway. I’m way too nervous to sleep.
I curl up in bed with my phone, reading Pietro’s latest response to me.
Pietro: Shouldn’t you be home tucked into bed?
Me: For your information, I am in bed. We just got back now. Bell is so drunk, it’s hilarious.
Pietro: Is Bella ever not drunk when you guys go out?
Me: I don’t mind. She’s funny and I love her. Besides, it took my mind off tomorrow for a few hours. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anyway.
Pietro: Then I’ll keep you company.
I giggle and snuggle deeper into my blankets.
Me: I don’t want to keep you up. Go to sleep. I’ll be fine. Promise.
I press SEND, a part of me wishing I could chat with him all night. I reach for the remote and turn on the television. Infomercials blare back at me, but I don’t mind. I just need the background noise. My phone pings. I pick it up.
Pietro: You always keep me up.
I can’t describe the rush those few words give me. I have no idea if it’s all in my head, but if I didn’t know better I’d swear we’re flirting. Anticipation races through me. I read his words over and over again, sure I’m missing something, like, as a friend or as a sister tacked on to the end of his text. My fingers hover over the keypad. I bite my lip. Do I dare?
Me: That could be taken so many different ways…
I press SEND before I can back out.
Oh God. I feel sick.
Pietro: I guess it could. Maybe that was the point.
I stare at the message for a good ten seconds. This is all so new to me. I’m a complete novice when it comes to guys. I’ve kissed a few, and I let James Bilton feel me up when I was ten, but that’s it. My biggest fear is this flirting will mess up our friendship. And if things progressed even further—I blush.
God, am I actually thinking a relationship with Pietro is even a possibility? There is no way in the world that could happen. Even if he were interested, there were too many things working against us. Like my father.
I don’t reply to his message. We’re treading on the edge of friendship and something more, and I’m not sure I’m ready to take that step. Instead, I turn my phone off and toss it across the room so I’m not tempted to check it. Sighing, I roll over and cuddle my pillow. I wish he were here. I wish it were him I was snuggling up to and not my pillow.
Why do things have to be so messy?
After tossing and turning most of the night, I wake up at five. I’m not due at the studios until seven, but I get up anyway. I tiptoe down the hallway, listening to the sound of Bella snoring. In the kitchen, I put on a pot of tea and make myself a smoothie. I’m so nervous I feel sick, but I know dancing on an empty stomach is a bad idea, so I force myself to drink my healthy concoction.
I try to keep myself occupied for the next hour until I can’t stand it anymore. At just after six I get ready to leave my apartment. I decide against waking Bella. From the look of her last night, she needs all the rest she can get. I scribble a note for her and leave it on the kitchen counter, and then I grab my bag and go.
Chapter 7
Lucy
My body is wracked with nerves as I push through the wide, heavy doors that lead into the foyer of t
he New York Ballet Company. I stop for a moment to take in the high ceilings of the grand entrance. It’s one of the grander buildings in New York, and absolutely stunning. Being able to dance here is impressive enough.
Okay, let’s do this.
Clutching my acceptance letter in my hands, I walk over to the elevator. The doors open promptly. I step inside and select the fifth floor. Glancing at my watch, I see that I’m nearly half an hour early. I was determined not to be late, which is not impressive, considering I literally live across the street.
Walking down the hallway on the fifth floor, I peer into every room I pass. A few students walk past; all have looks of concentration etched onto their faces. It’s like they don’t even see me. Swallowing hard, I stop outside studio seven. My home for the next few weeks at least. I’m terrified. I have no idea what to expect. What if I’m not good enough? What if this whole thing was a big mistake? They’re the same questions that run through my mind at least ten times a day.
Clutching my bag to my stomach, I slide against the wall until I’m sitting cross-legged outside the room. God, I’m shaking. I need to calm down. If I don’t, I’m going to blow this.
I focus on my breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out. It helps, and pretty soon the dizziness fades. I glance at my phone, watching the time slowly tick by. It’s like everything is moving in slow motion. The day is barely hours old, and I feel like it’s gone on forever. I managed to sleep very little, but right now that’s the furthest thing from my mind.
The hallway begins to fill with more and more students. Many stop outside studio seven looking just as nervous as me, which makes me feel better. I jump up as the doors open. I recognize Marcus Haimway, a well-known male dancer who I know now instructs. Could he be our teacher? The thought thrills me.
“Okay everyone, come in and take a seat, please. We have a lot to get through today.”
I’m one of the first through the door. I choose the seat at the front on the far left, tucking my bag under my chair. I glance up and watch the rest of the dancers file into the room. All of them walk as if they’re on a runway, their heads held high. I wonder if their dancing matches the confidence they ooze.
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