Renata Vitali
Page 11
Ava, you nut.
Leigh, thank you for your help with this one, for being my Momager, for being an anchor in such a crazy industry.
Desiree, I’m so grateful to you. You’re a gem. A rare find. I can’t even explain how much everything you’ve done for me means to me.
Jayvin, thank you for spending time with the dogs when I’m buried with work. Best brother ever!
Heather, you’re always there for me. You give me a shoulder cry on, someone to talk to, relate to. You’re an amazing person and an even better friend. I’m lucky to have you.
Sometimes, people come into your life and blindside you. That’s you, Heidi. You are stunning inside and out, and every time I talk to you, I find myself stopping to think about how lucky I am to have you in my life. Thank you for taking the time to be my friend, for investing yourself in my career, for caring about me, for being there for me.
To my admins—Krista, Brittany, and Amanda. You three are gems. You keep me sane. You make me laugh. The fact that you’re in my life is something I don’t take lightly. I appreciate and love you guys.
Bloggers! Whether you’re a traditional blogger, Facebook blogger, IG blogger, or occasional reviewer, you’ve taken the time to support my work. You keep my career alive. You make me feel special. I’ll never be able to show you how thankful I am, but know you all have a special place in my heart.
And last but definitely not least, thank you readers. My fifth book. FIVE! It’s just so insane to me, and there’s no one I should thank more than you, my reader. There’s no being an author without you guys.
XOXO,
Parker S. Huntington is from Orange County, California, USA. She has a Bachelor’s of Arts in Creative Writing from the University of California, Riverside and is currently pursuing a Master's in Liberal Arts in Creative Writing and Literature from Harvard University.
She was the proud mom of Chloe and has two puppies, Bauer and Rose. She also lives with her boyfriend of six years—a real life alpha male, book-boyfriend-worthy hunk of a man.
A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.
Marina Tsvetaeva
The Present
Liars were a dime a dozen. Good liars, rarer. But the best liars were the ones who lied as much to themselves as they did to others. The woman beside me was a liar. I usually read people well, but with her, I wasn’t sure which category she fit in.
Ariana De Luca fidgeted in her seat, a movement that would have gone unnoticed to the untrained eye. I let the silence simmer a moment longer as I reveled in her discomfort. The wooden pillar dug into our thighs, but I knew it wasn’t the source of her irritation.
“Am I bothering you?”
We were at a funeral, after all, so I kept my voice low and my eyes forward, where Giovanni Romano was giving what was probably a moving eulogy for his deceased twin, Vincent. I wouldn’t know. It was hard to pay attention when the woman that very same Giovanni had been asking around about sat beside me.
“No.” Her voice wasn’t clipped, but it didn’t welcome conversation either.
I suppressed my smirk, quelling the part of me that loved stirring up shit. Really, Ariana De Luca was the shit-stirrer by entering Romano territory with my last name. Did she think either family wouldn’t notice?
Silence spilled between us, no doubt heightening her discomfort. I studied her as she sat beside me. Looking at her was like looking at a picture of a younger Nana. Un-fucking-canny. Same Italian features. Dark hair. High cheekbones. Upturned nose.
Little Tessie Romano made her way to the seat between us, scrambling over a few laps along the way. If Dad were here, he would have dripped disdain. As far as I was concerned, everyone here could thank me for his absence—though bloodstains littered my path to the De Luca throne.
I allowed Tessie a small smile. “Ciao, piccola. Come ti senti?” When Ariana stiffened, it occurred to me that she didn’t speak Italian. Because riling women up was a specialty I took pride in, I continued in the language, “Your uncle was a good man. He will be missed.”
Tessie turned to me. “Grazie, Damiano.” Her somber eyes squinted in a sudden smile, and she waved at a brunette as she walked past.
Fuck. Me.
Nope.
This wasn’t happening.
Ripples of shock trickled into my bloodstream. The brunette turned, but I already knew who she was. Remembered the words she had speared me with before she’d left me. She’d promised revenge, and I’d been patiently waiting.
Renata Vitali was still the siren she’d always been—only different. Gone was the out-of-a-bottle blonde, replaced by a torrent of chestnut waves, which she had confessed was her natural color all those years ago. Full lips, the same come-fuck-me shade that laid squarely between ruby-slippers red and raspberry pink. Seductive eyes—part honey, part copper, framed by lashes thicker than Warren Buffet’s bank account. In the sea of heavily made-up women here, it struck me that she was still comfortable enough to wear her face bare.
Since she’d left, she traded her rich-girl sweats for a fitted black dress with a slit, barely-there pencil skirt. It was intoxicating. It was toxic. It was lethal. Even in ratty jeans and a hoodie, she attracted attention. Never on purpose. But this… this held purpose.
I had waited years to see her again, and now that I had, I didn’t know if I wanted her to stay or leave.
“Tessie, I’ve missed you.” Her smile flattened as she met my eyes. “D.”
D for Damsel.
She’d given me the nickname ages ago, and I was thankful she still abbreviated it in public. Small mercies.
Ariana started, which was a fair reaction. I was the new head of the De Luca family. Not many dared to use a tone with me, but Ren wasn’t just anyone. If anything, she had more power than everyone in this room—me included. It suited her. Damn, did it suit her.
I debated calling her “Knight,” but it was too intimate a first greeting for nearly ten years spent apart, so I settled for the nickname she loved to hate. “Good to see you, Princess.”
To be fair, she was a princess.
A mafia princess.
Ren’s eyes narrowed, tracking my every breath as I said goodbye to Tessie and followed her out the side of the church. It wasn’t lost on me that I was always following Ren, even when I didn’t realize it.
She reeked of strength. Wore it like a little black dress, hugging every delicious inch of her skin. Back when syndicates worldwide had engaged in costly, deadly wars, the Vitali family had been elected to run peace talks. Then, they became the mafia world’s government. The most powerful family in the underworld. Renata wore that power well.
It was weird seeing this side of her in public when she’d done everything she could to hide her strength back then. Most guys weren’t into girls who were smarter, more formidable, and just plain better than them. I was almost thankful for those douches.
That mentality had kept Ren single my junior and senior years of high school. Now, I guessed not. I eyed her ring finger, where a rock the size of the emerging hole in my gut rested. She followed my gaze to her finger, then lifted her chin and cocked a brow.
I met her stare. “Unapologetic and defiant as always, I see.”
“Because I’m wearing a ring, and you didn’t put it there?” She crossed her arms, and that damned ring teased me as it glinted in the light. “Save the chauvinistic bullshit for a damsel that would swoon.”
Her pun wasn’t lost on me. Neither was her attitude. I wouldn’t win this argument with Ren, so I didn’t bother trying. I reached for the door, one-hundred percent sure it was rude of the De Luca head to miss the funeral. Probably a thousand times worse for the Vitali representative—still couldn’t believe it was her—to miss it.
The door was locked. I pulled on it harder. Still locked. I’d never wanted to be a tight-wearing superhero and walk through the door’s metal more than I did now.
“Fuck.”
My eyes shifted to Ren and narrowed at how calm s
I crossed my arms. “Did you plan this?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Da—” She cut herself off, but I knew what she’d been about to say.
When we were good, she was Knight, and I was Day.
When we were bad, she was Princess, and I was Damsel.
Needless to say, she was usually Princess, and I was usually Damsel.
I started to walk away, making my way to the front of the church. She made me feel unhinged, like the body my soul occupied wasn’t mine. We’d been away from each other for about ten years, but somehow, we’d instantly reverted to how we’d been.
“Damsel!”
Nope.
Don’t even think about it.
Keep walking, Damian.
I turned around. “What are you even doing here?!”
I’d thought she was gone. Escaped from the mafia world, like only a Vitali or someone like Asher Black could get away with. She sure as hell did a good job of staying off my expanding radar.
Fuck. My chest heaved up and down, each breath more cumbersome than the next. I needed to leave before I did something that piled on the mountain of broken glass between us.
Placid as ever, her attention wandered to a cat that sprang across the alley before returning to me. “Representing the Vitali family.”
“The same family that sent you off to boarding school at eight years old?”
She crossed her arms. “My mom moved nearby.”
I ignored her. “The same family that sent you to De Luca territory and left you there for fourteen months?”
Yeah, I knew sending people off to live in De Luca territory was considered punishment in the syndicates’ circles. After all, I knew what we’d once been. The De Luca name was a stain on the Five Syndicates. From my dad’s unhinged behavior to the notorious story of my great-great-grandfather killing my great-grandfather, we were the laughing stock, like the extra character writers threw into horror flicks for the sole purpose of killing off later.
I was trying to give the family a better reputation, but I couldn’t build a reputation on what I had yet to do. One bad deed was enough to ruin a million good ones. Unfortunately, the roads in De Luca territory were paved by bad deeds. Bricks made of poor decisions, mortared together by blood. I wasn’t sure I was capable of enough good to offset the bad.
Just one of many reasons why I was personally in New York City to attend Vincent Romano’s funeral. That, and I actually respected the man, which was more than I could say about most people.
Ren straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Papà had his reasons.” Her thumb twirled that offensive rock around her finger like a nervous tick that served the sole purpose of transferring her anxiety to me. Except I knew firsthand that she had no ticks, and if she had any anxieties, she held them closer to her chest than heat to a flame. Renata was a Vitali, after all, and she’d trained every flaw out of her body by kindergarten.
“Did they involve my father and his hands?!” I sucked in a breath and swore. I knew what had happened in the bathroom hadn’t been illicit, but she didn’t know I knew. “That was uncalled for. I apologize.”
And still, she remained unfazed. If I didn’t know her better, I’d think I stood in front of a sociopath.
“If you can’t control your emotions, there are treatments for that, which don’t involve tormenting me with your juvenile behavior. I was going to suggest a truce for this weekend, but I now see there’s little point in that.” She stepped around me like I was an overeager dog she could sidestep. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a funeral to attend and a name to represent.” Her heels click-clacked with every step she took toward the front doors.
Just like that night she’d left me, she was unapologetic.
Just like that night, she didn’t look back.
Just like that night, she smeared my heart across the pavement with each step.
And just like that night, I still wanted her.
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