Page 2 of Falling for my Family's Rival

One

LUCA

Isee the woman, the moment my brother, Angelo, tosses a meatball into the air and catches it in his mouth, sauce covering his lips. The contrast from him to her is startling, and there is nothing I can do except stare. She has on a lilac-colored dress that makes her long, dark, curly hair nearly glow in contrast. She’s wearing a mask, like the rest of the party guests, but I can still see her eyes. And I know that she is looking straight back at me.

My heart starts to beat wildly in my chest. I clear my throat, and try to will myself to turn away. This feeling is just a knee-jerk reaction to a beautiful woman, but it feels like a lot more than that. It feels like I’m falling in love. I’m not that kind of guy. I’ve been in love with exactly one woman before, and that didn’t work out. None of the other women I have dated have been worthy of my affection. That sounds harsh, but I wasn’t worthy of theirs either.

“How epic was that, bruh?” Angelo asks.

“Yeah, totally epic,” I reply without looking at him. I don’t chide him for sounding like a teenage boy. The way he talks sort of infuriates me.

The woman breaks eye contact first. She looks down at her dress, fluffing the skirt before trailing after the group of women that she entered with. I watch until she is swallowed by the crowd. That’s when I turn back to my brother, just in time to catch him swiping the pasta sauce off his face with the back of his tuxedo sleeve.

“Angelo,” I snap, “could you please act like a grown up tonight?”

Angelo smirks at me. “Am I embarrassing you, big brother? I haven’t let anyone know what our big mission is for tonight, so shouldn’t I get some credit for that?”

I roll my eyes, but I have to concede that he has a point. He hasn’t blown our cover- yet. But the evening is young, so he still has time. The only reason I’m at this fundraising masquerade ball tonight is to scope out the competition. That’s why Angelo is stuffing his face with everything he can find.

When our parents asked me if I would snoop on the caterers, Little Italy, for this event, I expected the event to be a straightforward, self-gratifying evening; I even pictured myself wincing at the taste of the competition’s sauce, and then proudly declaring “No Comparison!” when I walked into our family restaurant. I could just see my parents’ eager, anxious faces, with worry wrinkling their foreheads, pacing around the kitchen as they awaited my entrance and my official verdict.

Mama would almost certainly nearly faint with anticipation, but then, in usual Mama fashion, she would race over and squeeze me heartily with all her might, kissing me over and over on both cheeks, as if I just announced the Lord himself was coming to dinner!

My family owns an Italian restaurant, the next town over, in Fox River Falls. Venetian Dreams. People always compare the two restaurants, but I think ours is superior. Or at least I always have until tonight. From the way Angelo is scarfing down the food, I’m beginning to wonder. Mama might not get quite the reaction I envisioned giving her.

It takes all my self-control to stay focused on the problem at hand, assessing our competitor’s food to our food. I’m not sure what my parents intend to do with any of the information that we gather, but it’s their problem then. I suppose they might be thinking about making the jump into catering, like Little Italy has done. Catering makes a lot of sense. They could clean up nicely with the income they could bring in during graduation season alone. So many people want their parties catered these days.

I keep scanning the crowd for a glimpse of that mystery woman. At my side, Angelo is still eating and giving me a running commentary of his thoughts as he chews. From what little I can make out, and his continuous eating, it does indeed appear that he loves the food. If I could get my mind refocused, I would eat, too. I want more to go on than just Angelo’s opinion. Our parents are expecting some kind of full report, and Angelo’s opinion alone won’t cut it for Mama.

“Bro, you’ve got to try this eggplant parmesan. It’s off the chain,” Angelo says.

I glance over at him. “What does that even mean?” I say.

“That it’s good,” Angelo says. “Like real good. But hey- at least I didn’t say that it was bussin.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t even want to know what that means. I’m pretty sure my twenty-seven year old brother searches the internet for current slang terms, and then just goes ahead and uses them freely, without caring what they actually mean. Sometimes I think he might just make them up to mess with me.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Angelo asks. “That’s literally the whole reason that we’re here.”

“I know,” I say, reaching over to grab a meatball on a toothpick. I pop the whole thing in my mouth. “It’s decent.”

“It’s better than decent, and you know it,” Angelo says.

He’s not wrong, but I’m not going to tell him that. I keep scanning the crowd for the woman in the lilac dress. Everything in me says that I need to meet her. It’s fate, and I don’t believe in fate. But every fiber of my being is screaming at me that this is meant to be.

The band starts to play, and I finally see the woman across the tent. I know that there is no time like the present. If I don’t make a move now, the night will end without me approaching her. And if I let her slip through my fingers, I know that I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. That’s how strong the connection I feel to her is. I can honestly say that I have never felt like this about another person before ever in my life. And I haven’t even met her- or really even seen her technically…

My head feels fuzzy, as I make my way across the tent toward this mystery girl. When I reach her, I clear my throat. She turns, and her face lights up as if she is delighted to see me. I decide to take this as a good sign.

I reach out a hand toward her, just like in some kind of cheesy movie and say, “Can I have this dance?”

She takes my hand and says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Two

MARISSA

Ifeel breathless as I step into his arms. Nothing has ever felt so right. I know how melodramatic that sounds, but it’s true. I look up into his dark brown eyes that seem magnified by the mask he’s wearing. The look he gives me makes me feel like an electric shock is running up and down my spine. I feel an instant connection to him, and my brain keeps screaming at me that I know him from somewhere, but I can’t place him.

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