The Mafia Heir I Shouldn’t Love

Chapter 6

Vittoria parks in a tight space; from what we can see, there are quite a few cars parked, so I doubt the party is small.

“Ready?” Vittoria asks me excitedly. From her smile and enthusiasm, I assume she is already familiar with this place, although I highly doubt she gave her real name—otherwise, we couldn't be here.

I nod and swallow hard. We both get out of the car and, once she sets the alarm, we walk following a small group of six people who are also wearing different types of costumes. It is upon reaching the entrance of a large wrought-iron gate that we stop in a line where, apparently, they are asking for invitations.

I squeeze Vittoria's arm when I realize this, but she only smiles, perhaps amused by my distress. Then I see her pull a folded paper from one of the pockets of her dress when the guard requests it. The man marks the invitation and they finally allow us entry; it’s then that I can breathe again, and Vittoria laughs at me.

“You should relax, or someone is going to suspect we're up to something,” she suggests in a whisper as we advance along a stone path where my heels sink in every now and then.

As we move forward, I observe in the distance a path of torches driven into the ground, guiding us toward the door. If my father knew what I was doing, a lot of people would surely get hurt tonight, but I’m grateful to have such a shrewd cousin. If my family failed to discover that she has been seeing a Carusso for quite some time, why should anything happen to me?

I try to follow Vittoria's advice as we enter the house. I look around: the decoration is beautiful, worthy of a church, though the type of music echoing makes the massive windows of a foyer vibrate—a foyer that looks more like a ballroom.

The dazzling place is full of people whose faces I cannot distinguish clearly due to the masques. Were it not for this style of party, I suppose I would never have risked coming here; in a way, I feel safe.

“Come this way,” Vittoria says, guiding me further inside. She drags me along until we find a makeshift bar station where they are serving drinks in abundance. Vittoria manages to get us a couple of glasses of white wine, which she insists I try. “The Carusso business is wine—what do you think?”

I highly doubt that’s the only thing they do, but as I taste the wine, it feels sweet on my taste buds. From experience, I know that any sweet drink containing alcohol is precisely the kind that gets you drunk the fastest.

“It's not bad at all,” I admit. And that’s the problem: it’s so sweet you can’t even taste the alcohol.

“Julius gave me a couple of bottles, but I had to hide them under the bed because of the label,” she says, raising her voice over the music. I laugh at her statement, since someone from the staff could discover them and my aunt would surely lecture her again.

“Do you want to dance?” she proposes. So, in one gulp, I drink what remains in my glass, emboldened by the music, the taste of the wine, and the knowledge that as long as we have these masques on, no one will know that a pair of Monttecis are around here. I nod at her request.

We dance to two very popular songs among the crowd packed onto the dance floor. It feels strange to coexist with people who could be my enemies, but in that moment, I don’t care at all. It’s the first party I’ve attended on a Carusso property, and I highly doubt it will happen again.

As I dance, I think that the only thing that makes us different is the last name we represent; without that limitation, we would just be young people having fun. I even dare to think there would be no need for masks. Since that isn't the case, I check that mine is well-adjusted to avoid losing it while I move, but in that moment of distraction, I lose sight of Vittoria.

I stop dancing instantly. I look around and suddenly I see her dancing with a tall, brawny man; he smiles at her and Vittoria shares flirtatious glances with him. Suddenly, a group of guys and girls surrounds me and they share a drink with me directly from a bottle; from the flavor sliding across my tongue, I sense it’s the same drink Vittoria mentioned.

I continue dancing with that group until a robust, broad-shouldered man joins in—apparently, he decided to dress as the Phantom of the Opera. Part of his face is visible and, when I manage to identify him, I stop dancing, freeze, and spin around on the spot.

I begin to push through the crowd to get away from the floor and from Leonardo. If I ever had the misfortune of running into a Carusso in my life, it was Leonardo—perhaps the most fearsome of that entire family. I stay close, keeping an eye on Vittoria. Had I remembered that a man like him existed, I would have refused to attend; he was the cause of an accident that scarred the lives of the nonna and her grandson. He crashed into the car where the boy's parents were traveling, and although Leonardo ended up with nothing more than a scratch on his eyebrow, the nonna’s son and his wife died that day.

There was no justice; the Carussos bribed the authorities, and the only thing for the nonna was a compensation she refused to accept. She wanted revenge and justice.

While I watch to ensure Vittoria and that wretch don’t cross paths by accident, I happen to overhear a conversation that alarms me just as the tone of the music begins to turn soft.

“Did you hear that the Montteci daughter returned to the city?” a male voice says suddenly.

“Yeah, but she must be nothing more than a b***h just like her father,” I hear a raspy voice say. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I notice Leonardo and a companion of his approaching the bar, not far from where I am.

Even though that i***t remains occupied speaking ill of me, at least it reassures me that he is far from Vittoria.

“They say she’s very different from her father, that she hasn't meddled in the families' dispute because she doesn't want to inherit his position,” the other mentions as if he knew me. “That's why she was living in Rome for several years, far from her family.”

“I don’t believe it,” Leonardo says confidently. “If she came back, it was for a reason; maybe that old fool Montteci is sick and his daughter just came to see if he dies so she can take his fortune and his businesses.”

“Don’t you think we would have found out by now if that man were on his last legs?” the other says, sounding unconvinced.

I clench my fist. How I would love to break his face right now, but I suppose this isn't the right place to defend the Monttecis when I’m surrounded by enemies. I look toward the dance floor; strangely, Vittoria is no longer dancing, so I try to move through the crowd to find her, but someone immediately takes my hand. Turning my gaze, I observe a young man leaning slightly in a bow.

“Will you grant me the honor of dancing with me?” He extends his palm to me. I hesitate to accept; I must find Vittoria and I don’t like being alone in this place. However, there is something familiar about him that makes me reconsider.

My curiosity outweighs my desire to find my cousin, so I end up taking the hand of that young man, who immediately leads me to the floor. The music is low and romantic. My dress, which I previously had to hold up so as not to step on it, now spreads across the floor. Few couples are dancing this close. The young man subtly takes my waist to pull me toward him gently; I place one hand on his chest and the other on his palm.

I am certain I don't know how to slow dance, but I suppose it’s thanks to my partner that I move to the rhythm of his steps. The music is a beautiful blend of violin and piano, though too intimate for the occasion since I don’t know this man. However, he looks at me and smiles as if he already knew me; I tilt my gaze toward his chest so I don't have to maintain eye contact. It makes me uncomfortable, but at the same time, it leaves me restless.

My heart beats fast. I feel him hold a bit tighter to my waist to pull me toward his body in a way that only a pair of lovers would. As the song continues, I feel several gazes resting upon us.

“Who is she?” I hear a voice not far away.

“She must be an acquaintance of Julius, because otherwise he wouldn't ask anyone else to dance,” another girl assumes.

“Julius?” I say aloud. I look up and my eyes meet his.

“Yes?” he answers to his name with a hint of nervousness that betrays how uncomfortable he is with people talking about him so shamelessly.

“You are... Julius Carusso?” I repeat, perplexed, while we continue dancing.

“I thought you knew who I was,” he says, slightly averting his gaze; his masque prevents me from seeing the full expression of his face. “I welcomed all the guests before the party started.”

“It’s just that...” I weigh my response. “We were a bit late; I didn't hear your welcome.”

He smiles; it seems that instead of annoying him, my explanation has amused him.

“No problem, I wasn't even the one who wrote the speech,” he explains, brushing it off.

I swallow hard. I cannot believe I am dancing with the son of my father's worst enemy and, of course, Leonardo's cousin. Although from his voice, I sense he can't be as bad as his cousin; in fact, I feel like I've heard it before.

The song is about to end. He twirls me and my dress spins, rising slightly from the floor. When he takes hold of me again, he wraps his arms around me with subtlety; he seems to be an expert at this. My heart races; I don't know if it's because he is Julius Carusso or because I truly feel I have seen him before.

“Would you like to take my mask off, or do I have something on it?” he says upon noticing that I have been observing him closely.

“S-sorry,” I manage to say in a nervous voice, averting my gaze.

“If I'm honest, I like that you’re looking at me,” he blurted out suddenly. I slowly raise my eyes until I find the glint in his eyes once more. Upon hearing his voice again, the sense of familiarity hits me anew.

My heart leaps. I swallow, but my mouth feels too dry to respond. We remain in silence until the romantic music stops.

“It seems it’s over,” I say, stating the obvious; it’s the only thing I manage to articulate after being betrayed by my nerves.

“So it is,” he replies. We both remain on the floor as another song begins, though this one is much more upbeat. After what just happened, I’m not in the mood to dance again; in fact, I’d like to take a breath and check if I still have a pulse.