“What?” she shot back defensively. “We’re best friends. It was a lot to handle; I needed her help.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head with a hint of humor. “Whatever. Let’s get this party started. I call dibs on a bedroom, you five can split up the others.”
“Why do you get your own? Shouldn’t we draw straws or something?” protested Valentina. She was the youngest and had a belligerent streak in her that rivalled my own.
“Because, I’m the oldest, and I said so.” I stuck out my tongue at her and walked toward the full-sized bar, ignoring the shrieks and cries of laughter at my uncharacteristic playfulness. “Now, who wants a drink?”
***
Three hours later, we were all sprawled out around our lavish living room in our pajamas, not one of us remotely sober. We were all tired from the trip, not to mention Val wasn’t even close to the legal drinking age, so we camped out in the villa for the night.
I made myself martinis and concocted frilly drinks for the others. We had room service fill the suite with a smorgasbord of food and put on dance music in the background. Had someone told me a week before that I’d have the most fun I could remember at a pajama party with my sisters and cousins, I would have died laughing—side ache inducing, unable to breathe, pee in your pants laughter.
Maria Genovese did not do pajama parties, let alone enjoy them.
However, the night in question was yet more proof that my life was turning upside down.
Again, it had to be the alcohol. Perhaps I needed to stay away from booze. After Vegas. One didn’t abstain in Vegas. I was pretty sure it was illegal.
“So, you three are in a race to tie the knot,” commented Camilla, the quietest of our cousins. “Which one of you will be popping out a baby first?”
I groaned. “We already had to deal with that question from Mom, now you’re asking?”
“Enquiring minds want to know.” She wiggled her eyebrows, and the others burst into a fit of giggles, all but Sofia, who smiled shyly.
“Sof!” I barked. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“No! I wouldn’t be drinking, dumbass. It’s just, I don’t think we’ll wait all that long. Nico’s already made it clear he’d like to start a family.”
“Damn,” I said on a breath. “That’s a lot for one year. You guys just got back together.”
She shrugged. “It’s only ever been him—why wait?”
I did a full body shiver. “Because, kids will suck the life straight out of you.”
Giada threw a pillow at me, managing to catch me unaware and smacking me right in the face. “Jeez, Maria. Tell us how you really feel.”
There was the tiniest second where everyone waited to see if I was going to get mad. For once, the alcohol was playing in my favor, because the tendril of heartache that started to unfurl at their guarded reaction dissolved into numbness. The relief and levity pulled a bubbling laugh from deep in my chest, and the others followed suit.
“I think my sisters and I have been in the spotlight enough lately,” I said once I’d regained control of myself. “Val is a little young, but what about you two?” I steered the conversation back to Giada and Cam, their brows shooting up to their hairlines.
Giada recovered first, her lips twisting into a devious smile. “Maybe I’ll find Mr. Right this weekend. Some gorgeous high roller like George Clooney in Ocean’s Eleven.”
“He’d be seriously too old for you,” Alessia pointed out.
“Why?” G scoffed. “Maria’s got herself a hot older man. Tell us, Maria, is Matteo as scrumptious beneath those expensive suits as he looks?”
I legitimately choked on my martini, the otherwise smooth liquid shooting down the wrong channel and scalding my windpipe. The girls laughed as I coughed up a lung, but once I recovered and sipped from one of the open water bottles scattered around the room, they all sat silently waiting.
My eyes bulged. “You seriously want me to answer that?”
“Yes!” they all said in unison.
“I need another drink.” I stood from my chair and delayed as I poured more vodka in my glass. “I’m not sure there’s anything to say—you guys can all tell Matteo stays fit.” I kept my gaze downward, deciding the counter could use a good cleaning if it meant avoiding their intent gazes.
“Oh, hell no. You’re hiding something.” Leave it to Giada to press for more. “You’ve had sex with him, right?”
Normally, lying was second nature to me. Even after one too many drinks, I’d never had any problem before spouting whatever bullshit came to mind. But suddenly, the ability escaped me. I couldn’t tell them the truth—that my marriage was a sham. Giada alone would tell half the city, whether she was sworn to secrecy or not. I would have to do the next best thing.
“I told you the relationship moved fast. We just haven’t quite gotten to that part yet.”
When I looked up, they all stared at me with expressions ranging from ‘kid-at-a-candy-store’ to ‘club-bouncer-descending-on-a-belligerent-drunk.’
“Are you a virgin, Maria?” Giada gaped.
Before I could answer, we all realized the humor in her wording and collapsed with drunken laughter.
Once I recovered, I set the record straight. “Don’t be an idiot, G. Of course, I’m not a virgin.”
“So, have you two not done anything?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that.”
A chorus of whoops and hollers blasted through the room.
“Okay, just tell us one thing—was it hot?” Giada seriously needed to get laid.
“Unfortunately, yes.” I returned to my chair, pulling my legs into my chest.
“Unfortunately?” All levity fled from the room, silent except for Lizzo singing in the background about how the truth hurts.
Alessia’s brows furrowed when she spoke. “Why? He’s going to be your husband. Isn’t a crazy hot husband a good thing?”
Fuck. Now I’d done it. I took inventory of their expressions—not even Patrón shots had dulled their senses enough to let me escape without an explanation. I probably could have refused, but vodka had taken the wheel and insisted telling the truth would be the only way out.
“If I tell you guys something, you have to swear on your lives you will not breathe a word to another living soul.” I glared at Giada. “Especially you.”
With eyes wide, she made the sign of the cross.
I let out a sigh and dropped my head back in defeat. “My marriage to Matteo was arranged strategically to unite our families. I’d only met him once before we announced our engagement, so no, I haven’t slept with him. Nor do I plan to—he’s a fucking Gallo.”
Stunned silence reigned supreme. Not even a murmured ‘holy shit’ or a gasp broke the sudden tension in the room.
“Um, we’re kind of new to all this,” Camilla finally spoke up. “Why is being a Gallo a bad thing?”
Alessia thankfully chose to answer. “It was a man from the Gallo family who hurt me. And the Gallos were the ones who killed Marco. But,” she continued, turning to look at me, “Matteo is the one who saved me, and he was young when Marco died. If he’s going to be your husband, Maria, maybe you need to give him a chance.” Her words were spoken sincerely, but sensing the rising awkwardness in the room, she added, “and besides, those tattoos are hella hot. And his green eyes … seriously fuckable if he wasn’t otherwise terrifying.”
“Alessia!” Sofia gaped in jest, and the girls slipped into an awkward fit of giggles, trying not to laugh at a sensitive subject.
I gave in to a smile, hoping to soar past the subject without a host of questions. “I suppose I could have done worse for myself in the looks department.”
“That’s the understatement of the century,” Giada chided teasingly.
“All right,” Val said as she tried to stand from the sofa, “I think I need another drinkypoo. You horny Bs are killing my buzz drooling over Maria’s man.” Her foot clipped Sofia’s knee, and she tumbled onto the floor, laughing hysteric
ally.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so, sailor. You’ve had enough.” I hadn’t been counting drinks, but even in my own drunken haze, I could tell she was done.
“Awwwe, come on, Mary Mary quite contrary. Don’t be a party pooper.” She scooted to sit next to Sofia, reaching with a wild hand for Sofia’s drink.
“You’re seventeen, Val, don’t push your luck.”
“I bet you did a whole lot worse than get drunk in a hotel room when you were seventeen.”
The girls all turned to me, burning curiosity lighting their already glassy eyes.
“Why is this the Maria show? Can’t we talk about someone else?”
Sofia drunkenly shook her finger at me. “Because, you don’t ever tell us anything. Now that we have you talking, we want all the answers. We want to know everything about you!” She waved her hands around wildly, Val’s eyes following her drink as it sloshed in the air.
“Yeah, Maria,” Giada chimed in. “You never played with us or anything. Why was that? Tonight is proof you can be fun—why didn’t we do this growing up?”
“Never played with us?” Alessia gawked. “It was way worse than that. She used to torment me to no end. Cut the hair off my dolls and bent the tips on all my markers. She was downright mean.”
Every ounce of energy drained from my body. The alcohol dried up and took the fun with it. With just a few words, I was that angry little girl again, and the sadness of it was a heavy boulder on my chest. A crushing weight I had to escape.
“I’m sorry I hurt you guys,” I offered quietly. “It wasn’t necessarily my intention. There’s reasons I keep to myself—some secrets are just too ugly to be told.” I tried to smile, but my lips turned downward instead. “I’ve had a great night, ladies—thanks for including me. I’m gonna head to bed. Lots more fun to be had tomorrow.” This time, my smile cooperated as I rose from my chair and waved goodnight.
I tried not to examine their faces, knowing what I’d find. Concern. Pain. Remorse. Instead, I hurried off to the safety of my bedroom, closing myself in and everyone else out, because that’s what I did best.
A girl could only handle so much change and personal growth. I had hit my limit.
Curling up in bed, I grabbed my phone that I’d left charging on the nightstand.
One missed message from Matteo. How was your flight?
How very domestic.
My mood had already taken a steep turn into the shadows. Something about seeing Matteo’s name made it ten times worse—an inky black stain sullying everything around me.
Matteo was checking on me while he was probably balls deep in some other woman. Fuck. I wanted to grab the duvet and rip it apart at the seams. I wanted to throw the decorative vase that sat on the dresser into the wall and watch as it shattered into hundreds of pieces. I wanted to take a knife and gouge out the hurt and anger that festered inside me like a gangrenous infection.
Since those things weren’t an option, I forced my anger into a small box, slammed the lid shut, and duct taped the shit out of it. The box bounced and shook, but otherwise remained sealed.
Flight was fine.
I set my phone back down, knowing it was way too late in New York for Matteo to answer. With a heavy sigh, I decided to wash my face and call it a night. Aside from the rocky patch near the end, our evening had been a success, and there was satisfaction in knowing I hadn’t let my family down. I tossed the covers off me, but before I could stand, my phone buzzed.
Did you go out?
I narrowed my eyes at the glowing screen. Why was he asking? I told him I would behave. Did he not trust me?
Seriously, Maria, would you trust him?
Not if my life depended on it.
No, we hung out in our suite. There. He could stop worrying that his new bride might not sit at home penning odes to his name. As if he wasn’t doing whatever the hell he wanted. I hated that it bothered me so much, but noxious wisps of jealousy slithered through my mind. I wanted to know. I wanted to ask him if he was fucking anyone else, but I couldn’t. It’s awfully late there. Were you awake? A simple question. Not exactly the one I wanted to ask, but it was the best I could do.
No, I had my phone on so I’d wake when you responded.
Oh. He’d been waiting to hear from me? That was new and … strange. Even in my teens, I’d never had someone wait up for me. My father knew I could protect myself and that I would never consent to being on a leash. I did what I pleased when I pleased, without the need to report to anyone. Had my parents asked me when I’d gotten in or what I’d done while I was out, I would have gone nuclear.
But now … now I was older. Less volatile.
A liquid warmth settled in my chest at knowing Matteo was prepared to interrupt his sleep in order to hear from me. Then the little jealousy gremlin lapped up that liquid and grew in strength, turning into something dark and twisted. Had he truly been asleep? Or was he busy fucking someone else when I texted?
The little gremlin hijacked my phone and texted a one-word reply. Right. I hit send before I could reconsider.
You don’t believe me?
I believe you’ll tell me whatever you think I want to hear to keep me in line.
My phone began to buzz with a facetime request. I clicked accept. Video feed filled my screen of Matteo propped against a headboard, eyes bleary and chest shirtless.
It was the first time I’d seen his bare chest, and despite the dim lamplight and poor video quality, my core fluttered with hunger. Considering the tattoos on his neck, forearms, and fingers, I had assumed he’d be covered, but he wasn’t. His smooth chest and abs were almost totally unadorned, leaving the dips and valleys of each muscle as the sole attraction.
“Facetime? Are we fifteen now?” Snark and sass were two of my most frequently used defenses when I was uncomfortable. The intimacy of his call sent me hurdling past uncomfortable and well into awkward.
“I wanted you to know I was telling the truth—I’m in my bed, alone, and was fast asleep when you texted.” His voice bore the telltale gravelly undertones of sleep, his words a calloused caress raising goosebumps on my bare arms.
Yes, he had definitely been asleep, but alone? I wasn’t so easily swayed on that one. Even if there was no one with him now, how was I to know that was the case hours earlier?
“You don’t look convinced,” he rumbled when I didn’t respond.
“I get it, you were asleep. I believe you.”
He narrowed his eyes, his gaze dancing over my face. “But you don’t believe I was alone, is that the issue?”
My jaw flexed and strained—both in agitation about my jealousy and annoyance that he had seen through me to the ugliest parts. “Call me crazy, but I’m a fan of equality. You made me promise there would be no other men, but when I asked if the same applied to you, you skirted the issue. I can only assume that’s because you have every intention of being with other women. That’s a shitty deal from my perspective.”
He brought his phone closer until I could almost see the flecks of gold in his green irises. “I like knowing you’re possessive,” he murmured. “I don’t even remember you asking about me—I was rather out of sorts the last time we were together, if you didn’t notice. Now that I’m thinking more clearly, let me assure you that I have not fucked anyone since you walked through my door, shooting daggers at me with your eyes and dripping venom from those fuckable lips. Everything I asked of you will apply to me as well. Does that ease your mind?”
I felt like a sulking child who’d just been reprimanded by her teacher. He hadn’t sounded patronizing, but my instinct was to respond as if he had. With tremendous resolve and years of remorse over a multitude of unwarranted, scathing comments I’d made, I simply nodded.
“Good,” he crooned. “I’m glad we got that settled and even more glad I got to see you in that silk nightie. If I wasn’t so goddamn exhausted, I’d tell you to take it off. Even more importantly, I want to be there in person the first time I get
to see you naked. I want to sear that image into my brain so that I never forget a single luscious curve.”
My nipples pebbled so hard that just the faintest touch of the satin top made moisture pool in my core. I took a shuddered breath, squeezing my thighs tightly together to ease the pressure his words created. “Good night, De Luca.”
His eyes flashed, but with what, I wasn’t sure. Lust? Anger? I didn’t know him well enough to tell, and he gave no other hint as to the underlying emotion.
“Good night, Maria. Sleep well.”
The screen went dark, and something stirred in my chest. Something akin to loss. Did I miss him? The concept was so foreign, I couldn’t even be sure it was the source. I could tell a part of me didn’t want him to hang up, but that was silly. I hardly knew the man. I didn’t miss being around the people I did know.
Alcohol tugged at my eyelids, whispering a sweet lullaby that drowned out my thoughts. I was more than happy to oblige. Snuggling deeper under the covers, I gave in to the pull of sleep, my lips softly curved upward with the memory of Matteo’s voice.
***
The next day was spent shopping and lounging at the pool. I hadn’t realized just how stressed I’d been until my body soaked in the therapeutic rays of the scalding Las Vegas sun. The penetrating heat was the perfect masseuse, coaxing the strain from my muscles and relaxing me inside and out. Add in a couple of poolside cocktails, and by the time we cleaned up and made for the mall, I was as chill as a Bob Marley song on the beach.
I wasn’t a big shopper but managed to blow a couple grand on some retail therapy, including a slinky black dress for that evening. We stayed at the Wynn casino for the night, playing some blackjack and drinking at the bar. Val had a fake ID, but with her gorgeous Malibu Barbie golden streaks in her long brown hair and her ample curves, it was never an issue.
We laughed, teased, and acted the fool, drawing the heated stare of every man in the place. Normally, I would scowl at a bunch of women cackling and acting like idiots. I’d been known to make a snide comment that such behavior only reinforced the hairbrained, weaker-sex stereotypes that existed about women.
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