Page 1 of Isabella

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ISABELLA

FRESHMAN YEAR AT CENTENNIAL UNIVERSITY

Isabella, 18 years old

Niccolò, 21 years old

The music at Suite 101 vibrates through my heels as my cousin Liana and I make our way through the sea of people crowding the dance club. It’s my freshman year at Centennial University and the first time I’m going out to the club on campus.

CU is a prestigious college in upstate New York where elite families—politicians, lawyers, really any kind of influential career—send their children to school. It’s also where crime families from all over the country send their kids to further their education before moving back home to find their positions in their families.

It’s a safe haven for the kids who come from my world. It doesn’t matter which family you’re from, it’s forbidden to act against another student here. CU made the rule back in the day to uphold their integrity.

“You want a drink, Izzy? I know the bartender. He’ll hook us up,” Liana calls out to me from over her shoulder, her caramel balayage hair cascading effortlessly down her back in loose waves.

“Sure,” I yell so she can hear me over the bass of the speakers, and she leads us away from the dance floor to the bar where it’s less noisy.

Finding an opening, Liana shimmies her way between two sets of guys. She immediately gets the attention of one of the bartenders and holds up two fingers to him. He makes the two drinks before coming over to us and handing one to Liana, then one to me.

“Jeremy, this is my cousin, Izzy. It’s her first time here,” Liana says before taking a sip of the translucent red drink.

“Ahh, freshman?” he asks, and I nearly freeze, remembering I’m only eighteen, which means it’s one hundred percent illegal for me to be drinking.

He must see the concern on my face because he lets out a chuckle before saying, “Don’t worry. I already know you and Liana are underage. I don’t really give a fuck.” He offers a loose shrug with a charming but cocky smile before wiping down the bar top with his rag.

I let out a breath before giving him a small smile. “Thanks for the drink.”

“No problem,” he says with that cute smirk of his before giving Liana a wink, then helping the next college student who also doesn’t look twenty-one. I’m beginning to think this campus operates under its own set of rules, which makes sense with the amount of money that gets funneled through it.

I take a sip of the drink and nearly choke on the burning sensation as the potent alcohol slides down my throat.

“Jeez, Liana. How do you drink these?” I ask with a cough while my body adjusts to the strong liquor. She giggles at my pathetic reaction. I’m only eighteen and haven’t drank too much before this. I’ve had sips of wine before at family functions, but that’s about it.

Placing the cup on the bar, I grab my phone out of my small crossbody; it’s 9:58 p.m., which means my parents will be expecting a text from me any second now.

“Is it already that time?” Liana asks as she sips her drink and sways to the beat of the music.

“You know it is,” I murmur while pulling up the group text with my parents and messaging them good night.

My parents can be a little… overbearing, specifically my father who’s the don of the DiMaggio family, one of the four Mafia families in New York City. It’s a miracle he didn’t send a guard with me when I came to CU. The only way my mom and I were able to convince him not to was if I promised to text him every single morning, afternoon, and night—it’s a lot.

A few seconds later, my phone vibrates with my dad’s response.

Dad: Buonanotte, Isabella. Ti amo.

Mom: Ti amo, Isabella.

I quickly respond so I can carry on with the rest of my night like a normal college student.

Me: Love you both too.

Shoving my phone back in my purse, I bring my gaze up to Liana who’s now dancing with her eyes closed and a hand in the air. I turn to grab my drink off the counter, but a tap on my shoulder grabs my attention.

It’s a guy I don’t recognize. He’s the same height as me, with piercing blue eyes and shaggy blond hair styled off to one side.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but introduce myself to the most beautiful girl in this club, seeing as I’m the most handsome guy in here.”Oh, wow.“You and I are like fate—meant to be,” he adds, making his already terrible pickup line even worse.

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