Page 8 of Third Degree

“I do.” Thank God she wasn’t part of the family or sending me some sort of message. Whenever I saw Ricardo, I was always on edge about what would happen next.

I flashed a polite smile as she said, “It’s our favorite place. We haven’t seen you in a while, though.”

“I had something happen personally. I hope to be back soon.” Even just the reminder of Bea was painful, but I had to push through. I couldn’t carry this weight forever.

Her smile fell slightly but a flash of hope still sparkled in her eyes as she spoke.

“Sorry to hear that. Hope you come back because we always go, but it’s been kinda lame recently.” The girl turned toward where her friends were gesturing for her to come. “It was nice meeting you. Hope to see you around.”

She winked at me and skipped down the path.

I needed to return to the club. I needed to stop being the person who moped around constantly. I needed to surround myself with people, the music, the lights.

I needed to find my purpose here.

4

Gianna Daphne

18 years old

I didn’t ask to listen to my papa and mama drone on about how Gucci is superior or if Fendi is the new ‘IT’ designer. Still, here I was, sitting at the dinner table, moving my lasagna around with my fork, painfully bored.

“I think I’m going to call it a night,” I finally announced to no one in particular.

Waiting until they were all pretty toasted on wine, I pushed my chair back and left the table. But then there was the matter of my bodyguard.

“Tomas, go to bed. I am headed to my room.” I glanced back at the man who was five steps behind me… always.

Mafia princess, remember?

“I will wait until you get to your room for the evening, miss,” he responded, stoic as always. He followed me until I managed to reach the guest wing where we were staying.

I paused right outside the opulent wooden door before looking back at him. “See? I am here.” I gestured to the room before he finally conceded and left down the marbled hallway without a word. “Thank God,” I muttered under my breath.

I pulled open the door. The grandeur of the space enveloped me with a large, ornate bed adorned in cream bedding that exuded an air of class.

It stood for everything I was not.

I preferred things more modern and comfortable, but this space lived by the phrase “the bigger the better.”

Velvet drapes cascaded from the ceiling, their deep hues of burgundy and midnight-blue adding a touch of regality to the space. Beneath my feet, the cool touch of the tile accentuated the regal atmosphere. An attached bath, concealed behind intricately carved doors, promised indulgence. It was perhaps the best part of the room, with a ginormous clawfoot tub in the room’s center.

This space was a testament to both power and grandeur. A symbol of wealth and ultimate prosperity, the likes of which my family coveted and displayed to all.

But it was not me. Not at all.

I grabbed a hoodie from my closet. It was oversized and hit me right at the knees. I threw on a pair of black Converse and looked at myself in the large floor-length mirror.

My straight dark hair was cut below my shoulders, and my features were as if I had jumped straight from Sicily. I had strong eyebrows, large lips, and curves for days that had started from the youngest age, and I was pretty short in stature.

I wasn’t confident in how I looked or felt, so I tended to stray from makeup and preferred oversized clothes to tighter-fitting looks.

I ran back to where the door was and gently cracked it open, making sure that no one was in the hallway before I snuck out the back door. I knew I would get a lashing if I was caught. But for the last couple weeks that we had been here, I made it a point to walk the well-lit path down the beach toward the little town center while everyone was still drunk from dinner.

Getting away from the tourists and rich assholes like my cousin? A dream within a dream. The town was rather quaint and peaceful too, especially in the evenings when no one was out.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, imagining what freedom must taste like.

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