Page 78 of A Game So Reckless

Getting on birth control without my papà finding out would have been absolutely impossible. Dr. Morelli, Giulia and Lucia’s papà, cares for our whole family. The treatment for everything from migraines to bullet wounds goes through him. He’s an excellent physician, but he’s loyal to my papà and Elio above all others. He never would have prescribed the medication for me.

So condoms were the next best option. The easiest to access, and the most anonymous. Plus, who the hell knows how many women Darragh has been with? Pregnancy isn’t necessarily the only thing to worry about.

I grimace, hating the fact that my first reaction when thinking about Darragh’s previous partners isn’t actually a worry about sexual health.

It’s a sickening stab of jealousy.

That jealousy makes me feel stupid and small. It pisses me off so much I almost take the condom out entirely.

But at the last second, I stop myself. I leave it there, put my phone inside my clutch, and close it up.

Then, I put my mask back on and leave.

“Sorry,” I call down the stairs. “Where’s Mamma?”

“Uncle Vinny is driving her,” Curse informs me.

“Seriously? Papà’s attending this thing?”

Papà doesn’t usually come to our social functions unless it’s something absolutely necessary for his image, or he has business to attend to at the event itself.

Curse shakes his head.

“He’s just dropping her at the venue and then leaving. He’s got a meeting.”

“Gotcha. So, just you and me, then?”

He indicates I’m correct by opening the door and leading me to the waiting vehicle. All black, just like his outfit.

As he drives us to the venue for tonight, I’m struck with an eerie sort of foreboding. Or maybe it’s déjà vu. A hidden warning built out from a memory of the past.

The two of us were driving together, just like this, the night that Dario died.

The night that I almost died.

The night that Darragh saved me. Set his sights on me. Doomed me.

One thing is different already, though. Last time, the sun was still shining when we were driving to the Fabbris’ brand-new condo tower. Tonight, the sun is already setting, and we’re heading to a huge, old hotel with an exquisite ballroom.

When we arrive at the venue and head through the massive, carved wood doors, I see that Lucia and Giulia are already there. They’re dressed identically in black and white checkered dresses, and with the masks, it takes me much longer than it normally does to decipher who is who. After hugging and greeting them, though, I know that Giulia’s wearing the black mask, and Lucia is wearing the white. They’re both holding clipboards, checking names against the guest list of tonight’s event.

“What do you need me to do?” I ask them, glancing at the clipboards and the long line of immaculately dressed couples waiting to be let through.

“We’re all good out here. The venue gave us some extra staff to help let people in,” Lucia says, gesturing with her clipboard towards two young women dressed in white dress shirts and black pencil skirts. “If you want to go on in and scope out the ballroom, make sure everything is to your standards, that’d be good. Double check all the silent auction items and stuff.”

“On it,” I say. I give them each another hug, and kiss them on their cheeks. We giggle as our masks collide. Then, I push between them and go through another set of doors.

“Holy crap,” I breathe as I take in the space.

I saw this ballroom during the initial planning stages, and it was certainly impressive then, but it was nothing likethis.

Shining, dark wood floors and arching windows of stained glass all along the far wall gleam in low lantern light. The ceilings are arching, cathedral-like, and criss-crossed with breathtakingly carved beams. Tables with black silk table cloths are arranged along the sides of the large space, some of them with chairs for sitting and eating, others lined with exorbitantly expensive silent auction items – purses and jewellery and bottles of rare scotch – most of them donated by yours truly.

Curse stations himself near the doors we’ve just come through, and I go to make my rounds. There are probably at least fifty guests already here, drinking sparkling wine or fancy cocktails from the bar discreetly nestled in one corner. If they’re not drinking and chatting, they’re filling out the silent auction forms. I’m pleased to see most of the items already have high bids on them, and the night has only just begun. We’re going to raise a solid amount of money for the kids atHearts and Notes.

That makes me happy, and it’s probably silly, but I feel like maybe little moments of goodness like these can counteract all the other shit. I don’t feel like Valentina Titone, daughter of a feared mob boss, witness to multiple murders, and Darragh Gowan’s “pet,” when I can find these small spaces to be generous. To try to make the world just a tiny bit better.

I carry that feeling with me as the night progresses. I’m buoyed by it, practically floating on my feet as I greet guests and encourage higher bids. I’m in my element, and it feels so fucking good that I don’t even bother having a drink. I’m flying high all on my own.

---