Page 28 of Mafia Princess

Tonight is the night of the engagement party; held at The Ritz-Carlton, a request of Milan’s. Why it needs to be such a fanfare, I’ll never understand. I grab my Marlboro packet off the bedside table and light one up, dragging it deep into my lungs. My cigarette habit is one I need to kick. Even I know that. But it calms my nerves and curbs my anger. If Vana or Papa find out I’ve been smoking in my room again, they’re going to freak. My phone buzzes next to me and I grab it to see who’s texting me.

Summer: Are you getting ready like I’ve organized?

Me: Of course I am!

Summer: Maya! The hairdresser texted me to say she’s waiting downstairs for you.

Me: Oops. Going down there now. Love you!

Summer: You better wear the fucking dress we picked out! Now get off your butt and get ready. Love you too. xx

Me: I wouldn’t dream of wearing anything else. I’ve seen your perfect aim.

Summer: See you tonight.

I put out the cigarette and wave the pillow around to get some of the smoke out the double doors that lead to my balcony. I get my ass off the bed and reluctantly stride to where the hairdresser is patiently waiting. I see her before she sees me and I immediately hope she isn’t overly cheery and chatty. I have no desire to pretend to be super excited about tonight.

“Hi, sorry I didn’t realize you were here.” I hold out my hand to shake hers.

“Not a problem, sweetheart. Summer has filled me in on everything. I promise not to bore you with engagement crap.” She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it, a sign to say she knows enough.

“Thank you.” I grin back and relief washes over me knowing the afternoon will pass without having to pretend. Thank you, Summer. I mentally note that I owe her, big time.

_ _ _

I run my fingers through the dark curls of the fraud staring back at me in my floor to ceiling mirror, not even recognizing myself.

Her features are a stark contrast to the turmoil festering within her. I glance down at my long baby-pink gown, my mom’s favorite color, with its sparkling sequinned material and open back.

A lone tear falls to the floor. I wish she were here to hold me and let me know all this will be okay. I would give anything to have just one more hug, one more kiss on the cheek. Hell, I’d settle for just a glance at her beautiful smile. I wish I could take back all the times I made her worry and erase them for her. The pain and regret of not making the most of every moment with her while she was here is worse than the pain of losing her. There’s no fighting the sickening heartache. It sits solid as a rock, heavy in my chest, screaming at me every fucking day.

Visions of that day haunt me, playing like a carousel over and over again. Visions that turn my nightmares into a welcome escape. I suck in a sob as the door to my room opens.

“My beautiful girl.” Vana clasps her hands together and looks up at the ceiling.

“Thanks,” I sniff.

“Please don’t cry. Your mom would want you to be happy, even in these shitty circumstances.” She strides over and wraps her comforting arms around my waist, holding me tightly.

“Did you just say shitty?” I snort-laugh, glad I have her here with me.

She smiles at me and places her hand over my heart. “Your mom lives here. Her love lives on in you and your brother. Look at the stars at night and know she is watching over you. She is always with you, my dear girl.” She leans in and kisses me on the cheek.

“Thanks, Vana. I don’t think I could have lived through these years without you.” I try not to cry.

“My, Principessa. Go show those men who is boss.” She cups my cheek gently before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

Vana’s words linger in my soul, and I pace over to my dressing table to pick up my mom’s diamond necklace. I haven’t worn any of her jewelry since she left, my heart couldn’t deal with it. But tonight, I feel like I need her close to be my strength when I cannot.

“Mom, I miss you so fucking much and I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.” I tilt my head back and swallow the golf ball-sized lump in my throat. I take in a deep breath as I clasp the necklace together. It sits heavy against my décolletage, a grounding reminder that I’m doing all this for her.

“Maya,” Papa’s voice echoes up the stairs.

“Hold up!” I yell back as I strap my feet into my new Valentino stilettos. I quickly grab my blade and tuck it into the slimline holster strapped to my upper thigh. It sits snuggly against Medusa. I take one last glance at the unrecognizable woman staring back at me and can’t wait for this charade to be over.

ELEVEN

Maya

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