Page 39 of Vicious Games

My eyes bulge in disbelief as we pull up to the Romano estate. The entrance to Lucky’s home is a statement in itself—massive iron gates standing like silent guards, determined to only allow a chosen few to pass through. Beyond those gatekeepers, the private property stretches out as far as the eye can see, like something straight out of a movie. With its perfect rose gardens and lawns so manicured, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that each blade of grass had its own stylist. And that’s just the front yard.

If this is the opening act, I can’t even imagine what the inside of his home looks like.

The place is huge—the kind of massive that makes my orphanage look like a damn shoebox.

So this is how the other side lives, huh? No wonder Lucky is a spoiled brat. I’d probably be one, too, if I grew up in a house like this.

Correction, mansion.

And not just any mansion. The kind of mansion that can comfortably accommodate at least twenty guests without anyone having to share a room.

Jesus.

How can some people have so much while others have so little? And why is it that the people who do have it all tend to be assholes like Lucky Luciano? It’s not fair.

Aside from the kids at the orphanage, most of the students at Sacred Heart are well off, so I always knew he came from money. But this? This isn’t well off. This is more money than his entire family can spend in their lifetime.

And don’t even get me started on the cars. Four brand-new Escalades trail behind us like they’re escorting the damn president here.

Sigh.

Why did I let Sister Agnes and Lucky’s mom bully me into coming? Because, let’s be real, with all their polite smiles and gentle persuasion, it felt like bullying to me. But what was I supposed to say? ‘I’d rather not have lunch with your family, lady, since you’ve raised assholes for kids?’ Yeah, that wouldn’t have gone over too well. Much less something a future nun should say.

Mother Superior would have had my ass if I said such a thing, even if a small part of her agreed with me. She didn’t say anything to the contrary, but I could see in her eyes that she wasn’t pleased with this impromptu lunch date. But what could she do? Say no to the family’s matriarch, who donated so much to St. Mary’s and Sacred Heart? Her hands were as tied as mine.

“Here we are,” Mrs. Romano says cheerfully, turning to look at me in the back seat as I sit beside a quiet Annamaria.

I was relieved when the twins decided to take a different car—until I realized that riding with their kid sister came with its own brand of awkwardness. She hasn’t said a word the whole ride through, content on watching me as if inspecting me or something.

I’ve seen Annamaria around Sacred Heart before. Not so much last year when she was in the middle school building, but now that she’s a freshman, I catch glimpses of her in the halls from time to time. She’s hard to miss as she stands out in a crowd with her Rapunzel-like golden hair and striking features. Yet, whenever I see her, she’s always alone, glued to her phone, smiling at something on the screen.

She doesn’t seem to be much of a talker, though. She’s either shy or just a straight-up introvert. Which is wild to me, considering her twin brothers are the exact opposite. Lucky and Enzo live for the spotlight, no matter the angle. They’re like mirrors—only fully alive when someone’s looking at them. They just thrive under the attention.

Personally, I prefer standing in the shadows and living my life under the radar.

Perhaps one of the reasons I resent Lucky so much is because he forced me to step into the light when I had no desire to do so. And now, here I am at his doorstep, pushed to be the center of attention once again.

Ugh.

I reach for the door handle, but before I can open it, it flies open on its own. Lucky stands there, waiting, tilting his head as if issuing a silent command to get out.

God, he’s a prick.

I climb out reluctantly, but before stepping away, Lucky pulls me to his side and mutters under his breath, “I don’t know what my mom is up to, but I have a pretty good idea.” His voice is low and annoyed. “She thinks if we spark some kind of friendship, it’ll get back to Sister Margaretta and get me out of hot water with the Nun Supreme.” He scoffs. “Just play along, and this will all be over in no time. Think you can handle that?”

I cross my arms and glare at him. “That depends. What exactly are you asking me to do?”

“I’m asking you to be a fucking human being,” he snaps. “Act civil. Pretend we don’t hate each other. Before you know it, the afternoon will fly by, and this hellish day will be done and over with.”

“So let me get this straight, you want me to act like I don’t find you deplorable and an overall disgusting human being?” I flash him a toothy grin. “That’s going to be tough.”

His jaw ticks in tandem with his flaring nostrils. But instead of responding, he turns and helps his younger sister out of the car, clearly deciding I’m not worth the argument.

My attention is pulled away from them when a butler opens the massive front door of the mansion.

“Lunch will be served in thirty minutes, Mrs. Romano,” he announces.

“Good. Thank you,” she says with a pleased nod. “That gives us enough time to freshen up.” Her eyes sparkle when they land on me. “Make sure Lourdes sets an extra plate. We have a guest today.”

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