I push my way through the crowd to the bar, finding the only vacant seat and pulling myself up. I watch my friends continue in their pursuit of the college guys we met when we first arrived. I've just broke away from them for a breather, and to rest my feet that ache from too many hours in heels.
I order myself another Gin & Tonic, the only drink I can tolerate without waking up with a raging hangover.
Slipping my fathers security is one hell of a task, but it's a task I've gotten fairly good at over the last few year. He would go crazy if he ever found out what I did on the weekends that I have 'sleepovers' at Laurens house.
He still thinks I'm a 10 year old kid like Francesca, and for a clever man that doesn't miss a beat with his business, I'm surprised he's never caught on.
I sometimes wonder if he's really that naive, if he really has no idea what I do. If he does he's never mentioned it, and my eyes roam the room, studying endless faces wondering if they're secretly here because my father sent them to watch me.
Doubtful.
There'd be no way, hell would have to freeze over for him to allow me some semblance of a normal life outside of the life he created for me. "Le minacce sono ovunque" threats are everywhere, he would say as he kissed me on the forehead and vowed always to protect me, protect our family. A stark reminder of the brutality of his business.
I let out a heavy puff of air, it's hot and sticky in here tonight, the mid July heat is palpable.
It's the first time I've seen my girlfriends over the break. I have one year of college remaining, one year of freedom left, one year of being able to use visiting my friends as an excuse to live my life how I want to. I don't particularly like partying and getting drunk but I like to do anything I know my father wouldn't want me doing.
A year from now I don't know where I'll be. My families tradition is archaic, justified by the success of our previous generations. The mutual arrangement of marriage, not for love, but for power and control, nothing more, nothing less.
When I expressed my disinterest in being part of their business, how I wanted to pursue a career in biology and eventually attend medical school with the hope of becoming a doctor, my father had bellowed out a laugh. Mom had talked him around but it had taken a long time, and I settled on a four year course. Medical school wasn't completely off the cards until recently.
My brother Dante should technically be in line to take over the family business, except that doesn't work for them. He's too young, has no experience in the mafia, and hasn't shown a lot of interest the way kids usually do when they are born into the business.
With my fathers health deteriorating over the years, and nobody close enough he could trust to take over, my father decided that my college dreams would end, and that my fiancé would eventually become the boss, taking over both families.
Whoever he may be.
My intoxicated brain wonders if the decision has already been made, if my fate is already sealed, wonders if I'll like my husband, eventually fall in love with him and have children. But my logical brain knows how immoral it is, how it goes against my human rights, how it's the last thing I want to go through with. And my fiancé and husband will be complicit in that.
The bartender pushes another gin and tonic in-front of me and I look at the glass and to him in confusion.
"It's from him" he says pointing over to the opposite end of the bar.
He's hunched slightly, with both elbows leaning against the bar, yet he still looks bigger than most other men in this room. His crisp white dress shirt is tucked into light grey checkered slacks. His shirt is folded up on the arms, and the top few buttons are undone. Devilishly handsome as ever, his angular jaw framed by thicker stubble now, and those same black eyes bore into me.
He gathers himself, and his drink and strides over to wear I'm sat. My body already hyper aware of him.
"Matteo" I say as I take a sip of the drink he ordered for me. "Didn't expect to see you in here".
"Needed a little release" he says.
"Stressful day at the office?"
"Something like that" he smirks. "I didn't exactly expect to see you here either".
"I'm 21 now".
"You know that's not what I meant. Daddy let you play out? Or does he not know your here?"
"You already know the answer to that question, are you going to go tattle tale?"
"I'm hurt" he says clutching at his chest sarcastically. "You know me better than that. You also know better than to come here".
"Tsk. This place is harmless, it's just a bunch of college kids that get a little rowdy".
He rolls his eyes as he downs his whisky in one gulp, smacking his glass down against the mahogany of the bar and turning directly to face me.
I must have been a kid to him the last time he saw me, and I can't help the butterfly sensation that ripples through my body as his eyes rake over me, starting with my eyes, to my plump lips, my breasts, down my curves and to my toned legs that peep out the bottom of the mini dress.
I watch as his tongue darts to wet his lower lip, and sucks it in between his teeth.
"You look different" he finally says.
"And you look older".
Fact. The last time I saw him he was turning 21. My 15 year old self had an embarrassing crush on him, but a feud over shipping ports had driven a wedge between the families. My father had his product seized, and it cost him a lot, something Matteo's father was aware was likely to happen from intel, but decided not to share. The fight had been catastrophic to some, and meant the end of a childhood friendship, and the rival of two powerful mafias beginning.
He lets out a low chuckle. "So do you, you've got rid of the baby fat I see".
My cheeks burn at the comment. "You've not changed a bit have you, you're still a dick".
"I've never claimed to be a nice guy". He rubs his hand across his chin and squeezes at his jaw.
I roll my eyes. "Thanks for the drink" I push away from the bar but he grabs me before I have chance to leave. My back is flush against his chest, and his outstretched thigh presses against places it shouldn't. My breath hitches at the surprise contact.
"Is that your gun or your cock that's pressing against my ass, Matteo? Has it been a while?"
"Thinking about my cock already Tesoro?"
"I see your ego never wavered".
"It only got bigger, Sof. It's not the only thing".
"You need help".
"Please, be my guest".
His mouth brushes the tip of my ear, sending waves of goosebumps crashing through my body, and making the hairs stand on edge.
"In your dreams".
"Regularly".
My face flushes and my cheeks burn as I stumble away from his body. My eyes dart between his, confused at the interaction.
There was always too much of an age gap growing up, Matteo never looked at me the way he was tonight, never touched me the way he did just now.
It's strange.
He turns away, a smug smile on his face.
"Your friends are waiting for you".
