The estate is beautiful, I'll give it that—manicured gardens that my mother tends with almost religious devotion, elegant interiors that look like they belong in some architectural magazine, and stunning views of the river that probably cost more than most people make in a lifetime. All the luxury in the world doesn't change the fact that it's a gilded cage.
The main level is impressive with its vaulted ceilings and open floor plan. A grand staircase leads to the upper floor where I spend most of my time. With several bedrooms and bathrooms, it's the closest thing to cozy this estate has. Mamma has the primary suite, leaving me the second largest room down the hall while the smaller ones serve as guest rooms and offices.
Living in an estate of the Don's is worse than having a landlord from hell. The additional protection might be nice, but the extra eyes everywhere are not. My every move—every breath—is watched, if not by a soldier, then by a multitude of cameras in the common areas: on the front steps, in the garage, in the halls, the living room, in the gardens… The only places without cameras are the bathrooms and assigned bedrooms. Much to Mamma's dismay, but to retain as much privacy as possible, I stay in my pink prison when home. Today, reaching my room after overhearing the admin meeting, feels more stifling than ever.
My full-size bed is off-centered on the far wall, creating a balance with the asymmetrical mounted shelves. My shelves are filled with books, plants, and various abandoned half-knit scarves. I'll finish them one day. At least that's what I tell myself to justify buying more yarn. Any yarn not on display threatens to tumble over the top of my armoire.
As much as I love my sister, I'm less than thrilled when she and our cousin, Elena, waltz into my room while I pace. Elena, at least, offers a fresh cup of coffee and a bagel; but by the look on Rina's face, Vito already told her Kieran's latest demands. Her deep-set frown and down-turned eyes are enough to tell me she is not happy, not that I blame her.
I also wouldn't be happy if the man who shot my father, kidnapped me, and forced me to marry him now planned to use my younger sister as leverage in an underground war. Not that I'm one to hold a grudge.
She doesn't know I overheard Vito's council meeting, and I don't intend to tell her. I'd rather give her plausible deniability than make her liable for any of my future actions; besides, our lovely Don Vito will be pissed at both of us if he finds out I was eavesdropping on one of his sacred meetings. The less my sister knows what I know, the better.
"Spill," Elena sits on the edge of my bed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder while Rina moves my jacket to the desk, getting comfortable in my chair. When I raise an eyebrow at Elena, she continues. "Please, I didn't just bring you food and drink because I'm nice. Marco told me you left work early and by the looks of it, you've been moody all afternoon."
"When did you get so close to Marco?" I ask, remembering his reaction when Rafa mentioned Elena's name in the meeting.
Elena doesn't reply. Her straight-faced stare telling me she's not going to say a word until she gets the information she wants from me first. "Sorry," I roll my eyes, irritated. "I didn't realize I need to send out an APB when my mood changes. I'll be sure to make that note for next time."
"What's going on?" Rina asks, her tone full of older sister concern. She tries to keep her expression neutral, but the slight pull of her eyebrows gives her away. Her blue eyes are cloudy, keeping her stormy thoughts to herself. Her honey-brown bun is messy, strands of hair falling into her face. She's worried.
Rina is only a couple years older than me, but she's always been my caretaker. We grew apart over the last couple of years, but we used to be inseparable. She taught me to braid my hair, how to do my makeup. She always protected me from our father's wrath. Granted, she hasn't needed to protect me from his wrath since his death, but the sentiment itself stands. She's my protector. When he died, I didn't just lose my father. I lost my big sister—the one person I knew I could trust.
"I'm just," I start with a huff. "I'm so sick of not being in control of my own life. Not once have my wants been taken into consideration. Anything I do is always under orders because it's 'what's best for the family'." I curl my fingers in air quotes before continuing. "Mind you, a family I never asked to be part of! I don't want this life, Rina. This," I gesture around the room, "isn't me. I don't want to be caged like some modern-day princess for the rest of my life—being told where to be and when, what to do, who to marry."
Rina pales as Elena stares at me, bewildered. "Who's saying you have to get married?"
"Nobody," I answer, pinching the bridge of my nose and biting back the 'yet' that should have followed, "but if it happened to Rina, who's to say I'm safe from the same fate?"
"Please," Elena snorts, reaching for my untouched coffee and taking a sip. "What are the odds of both you Gallo girls being in arranged marriages?"
More likely than you think, I want to say, but I settle for shaking my head. "Forget it."
A quick, excited set of knocks sound from my door before Gianna pokes her head in. "Guess who's back!"
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and squeeze my fingers tighter against my nose to focus on anything else. I have nothing against Gianna, but she and her brothers are some of the last people I want to see right now—right along with my own sister and cousin. We're all too deeply entangled in the Rosso’s for me not to take the current dilemma personally, even if they aren't aware of it yet.
Gianna stops mid-step, pausing at the less than enthusiastic reaction to her return. "I can come back later."
"No, it's fine," I answer at the same time Elena chuckles and says, "Sofia's just having a bit of an identity crisis today. Welcome back."
"Ah," Gianna continues in stride, taking a seat on the bench under the windows. Unlike her brothers, Gianna's hair is several shades lighter, and her eyes are closer to freckled hazel than brown. Her skin is perfectly sun-kissed; her lips are plump, pink, and complement the cherry blossom eyeshadow she's wearing. Nonchalantly, she kicks her feet up and picks at her nails. "Is it at least a fun identity crisis? One where you get to go on some sort of illegal substance-fueled binge, change your name, and impulsively adopt a pet?"
"Like our little Sofia would ever be going on any sort of bender." Elena snorts, rolling her eyes. "She wants out."
"Out?"
"Out of the Council, out of the Maf?—"
"Out of New York," I cut Elena off. I'm tired of pretending a simple change of command will change my feelings. Even out of the Council, there's no normal life for me anywhere where the Rossos are known—New York, Chicago, New Orleans, the entirety of Italy for fuck's sake…. I need to be somewhere where nobody knows me, my name, my face, and I can make my own decisions. Freedom: that's all I want. Freedom to choose, to make my own decisions. "Out of everything."
"Whoa whoa whoa," Rina stands. "What do you mean? You want to leave New York?"
"This is exactly what I'm talking about!" I clench my fists, trying to keep my tone level. "You never even considered that I don't want to stay in New York, let alone stay here." I wave to the pink walls around us.
"I don't blame you," Gianna sighs. "If it weren't for my brother being Don, I'd be…well, long gone. If anything, my little stint in Italy proved as much."
Silence settles over us at her admission. Gianna—the boss' sister—wants out? She's untouchable; protected from anyone and everything, but she wants to turn to a normal, civilian life?In what world does a member of the family try to get out of the life of crime and become normal? I didn't realize normal was a life any of them knew how to live.
