Games We Play - Round 1: Never Have I Ever (18+ dark mafia romance)

Prologue

The party is starting to get out of hand.

As expected.

It's only been two hours since guests first started to arrive, and yet people are already talking loudly and gesturing far too much. No one's violent yet, there are no guns in sight, and I can see familiar faces, which is usually a good enough sign for me to believe the party will be safe.

And I know he's here. He must be.

Does he think I'm here?

Why do I even care?

I grab a glass of champagne from a tray held out by a waiter as I enter the foyer. The giant room overlooks the Mediterranean Sea, giving everyone a view of the cliffs and its waters below. It's already dark, but the full moon stands high above the water shining on the sea and the city on the western side of the cliffs.

As I browse the room a second time, I realize that there's not even one person in here that I would enjoy making small talk with, let alone spend another hour and a half with them until I'm supposed to meet the guy.

"Oh, Valentina!" Someone behind me exclaims.

The sight of Isabella walking towards me with a glass in hand instantly makes me more comfortable. She's smiling at me in that warm way she always does whenever she sees me.

Coming here alone was a bold move and if anyone but my father had asked, I wouldn't have done it. I didn't know she would be here because she told me she had to pick between two different New Year's parties.

"I wasn't sure you would come!" She cries, hugging me. She takes a step back and knocks our glasses together. "Here's to a peaceful 2022." She says, winking.

"Who else is here?" I ask.

"Pia's here, the entire Giudice family, and the Barone boys."

I nod. The feeling I've had on my way here intensifies in the pit of my stomach. "And uh...where do I leave my jacket?"

"I'm staying in a room on the second floor, you can sleep there too if you want."

I follow her towards the staircase by the entrance. "We both know I probably won't go to sleep before 8am."

She just shakes her head and smiles.

The guest room she's staying in is one I'd never been in, with an en-suite bathroom attached right by the door.

"Where's your brother?" Isabella asks.

"He's in Moscow. Is uh...Ariana here?"

It's the first time I dare to open the subject of what happened with Isabella.

"No." Isabella tells me and sits down on the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm healing," I say and take a seat by the table that has been converted into a makeup table.

"They're not even together anymore! I'm pretty sure it officially lasted two or three days." Isabella adds, even though I didn't ask. It's good to know though.

But that's not why I'm here.

When my father sat me down in his office after Christmas Eve dinner last week, I knew it was serious. He's aware that I know what's going on, what he does for a living, and that I've always kept my mouth shut.

"I need you to go to Sicily for New Year's Eve."

"What for?"

"Talk to the Italians and ask them to consider peace. It can't go on like this, people are dead."