Keeping his bride

Renato looks hurt by my rejection, so I lean in and give him a sensuous kiss that has him groaning in the back of his throat.

“One of these days, Aria…” His voice trails off before he stares off into the distance.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I tell him with an eyeroll. He always threatens to stop our little game, but I’m sure it’s just the blue balls talking; because he is always seeking me out, wanting more even after I wound him, as he often calls it.

“Are you going to bed?” he asks with a frustrated sigh before stepping back and running his hands down the front of his white dress shirt, attempting to get the newly formed wrinkles out.

“Yes,” I lie. I feel bad about lying right to his face, but I can’t tell him what I’m actually planning on doing tonight or he would try to stop me.

“Alright. Well, goodnight,” he says, his lips finding mine once more in a chaste kiss.

“Goodnight,” I call after him as he disappears down the hall to go finish out his shift.

Renato is my bodyguard during the day. And when I go to bed, he’s on patrol duty. He’s been working for my father for a long time, and he’s also my brother’s best friend. My brother has caught Renato and I a time or two making out, but Nico doesn’t seem to care I’m messing around with his bestie. I’m sure he would support both of us no matter what we decided to do, because Nico’s just a good brother like that.

But the fear of losing Renato will always hold me back, and I truly don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. Maybe someday when the cards are right, and the stars align…or some crap like that. But not tonight. Tonight, I have plans that don’t involve Renato nor our future together.

I head to my room and immediately go to my huge walk-in closet, looking for something to wear. One of my friends, whom I haven’t seen for months, is DJing at a club tonight. I promised her I would be there, and nothing is going to stop me. I’m tired of being couped up in this place and under constant supervision. I’ve snuck out before, so it’s not that big of a deal. Well, as long as I don’t get caught, that is. This time might be a little harder; however, because of recent circumstances, but I’m up for the challenge.

Sorting through my wide range of designer dresses, I let my fingers slip over the expensive materials. Many of the items in here still have tags. My mother and I have a shopping obsession, much to the dismay of my father and his wallet. My father once told me that she never worried about labels much before I was born. But as soon as I became a teenager, it kind of became our special thing. My mother and I bond over the latest designer dresses and shoes, and I’ve become what some would consider a socialite around New York. My Instagram has been blowing up lately with over two million followers. Everyone wants to know what I’ll be wearing next, and it’s kind of addicting to have all the attention.

But social media is often a total lie, and I’m just one of the many imposters out there, faking how wonderful my life is. If they only knew the truth about my real day-to-day, how I’m kept under lock and key most days, and how I spend a lot of time doing online shopping instead of going to the actual stores or visiting designers like I let on in my posts. I can pretend I’m something I’m not to the world, showing off my perfect life, when, in reality, I don’t think I’ve ever been more miserable.

I’m tired of being a mafia princess, never knowing what my future holds and only knowing that I can’t leave the house without at least five bodyguards and a chauffeur. I mean, I don’t even have my driver’s license, because really, what’s the point?

Sighing heavily, I pull a dress off a hanger and study it. It’s short with gold sequins, and I know just what shoes I could wear with it – a pair of metallic gold Louboutin red sole heels that my mom gave me as a gift. I dig the box out of the bottom of my closet and open it. They look brand new, and I can only ever remember wearing them maybe once or twice.

Holding everything in my arms, I go into the bathroom, freshen up and then change into my outfit for the night. After fixing my hair and makeup, I’m almost ready to go. While I’m applying the finishing touch – a nude lip gloss – in the mirror, I realize how sad I look. I try to smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes.

I know what most people think about me. Poor little princess. She has everything, and somehow, she still wants more.

And it’s true in a way. Sure, I have everything I could ever want. But when you don’t have freedom, what do you really have? Material things don’t matter much when you’re miserable and lonely. I’ve been locked up in a proverbial ivory tower most of my life, not even able to so much as go to a gym or a grocery store by myself. Every time I leave the house, I’m surrounded by an entourage of guards, who make their presence blatantly known to me as well as everyone around me. It just screams don’t go near her; don’t talk to her.

I don’t mind when Renato tags along since he’s my friend…and sometimes more. And, as of late, I’ve found solace in his arms. Sometimes the only thing that makes me feel alive is when we sneak around the house into dark corners, running from guards and trying not to be seen. I know my father would kill us both if we ever got caught, and the thrill of that makes my heartbeat race – the only true evidence that I’m not totally dead inside.

When I’m not sneaking around with Renato, my daily routine is pretty boring. And now that Selina, my brother’s girlfriend, is back, the house is on a tight lockdown, and I have even less to do than I did before. Just getting permission to leave with a carload of guards is like pulling teeth. And unless it’s absolutely necessary, my father usually forbids it. He says it’s too dangerous.

And I get it. I do. A decade ago, Selina was taken from right under my parents’ roof by her own mother and sold to the most notorious kingpin of human trafficking in the city, perhaps even the world. Selina was only thirteen when she came under the control of Constantine Carbone. She was only able to escape after ten years of captivity because my brother killed Constantine’s son to rescue her.

Selina came back a different person, so unlike the happy, shy girl I once knew her to be. And my brother changed a lot too since he had to take a life to save hers. I was hoping my brother would never take after our dad, who has a lot of blood on his hands from his line of work, but it looks like that’s exactly what is happening.

I haven’t experienced my father’s dark side personally, but I’ve heard stories, and I know how feared and revered he is. Our last name brings panic into people’s eyes whenever it’s uttered. Having a lot of power and influence is nice, but it also brings around a lot of enemies and people constantly trying to take them away from you.

Selina has only been staying with us for the past few months, and it feels like all of our lives have been turned upside down in that short amount of time. I don’t blame her, though. None of this is her fault. It’s just that any tiny sliver of independence I had before her arrival was quickly squashed. And if I thought things were bad before, they’re much worse now.

Giving up on trying to make my smile reach my eyes, I walk out of my room and stop in the hallway. I can see Selina’s bedroom door from here. We haven’t had much time to bond since she’s been back, and a fun girls’ night out would be just the thing to bring us closer. Although I highly doubt if she’ll say yes, I still feel an intense need to invite her. Maybe she’s suffering from cabin fever as much as I am.

Before I can doubt my choice, I go to her door and knock. When Selina answers a few seconds later, she looks stunned to see me; no doubt expecting to see my brother.

“Bored?” I say with a big smile.

“Very,” she confesses.

“Want to go out?” I offer. “My friend is DJing at a club tonight, and I’m dying to see her do her thing.”

A nervous smile forms on her lips. “Okay, sure,” she tells me with a nod, surprising the hell out of me.

I realize she’s in her PJs, so I ask, “Got anything to wear?”

She looks down at her outfit and blushes. “No?” she says, but it sounds more like a question than an answer.

“Don’t worry. I have plenty in my closet,” I explain. Then, with a wink, I tell her, “Come with me.”