Page 6 of Veil of Vengeance

I’m in my vanity room, getting ready for the party. With the soft light illuminating the large room, I watch Violette through the mirror as she sifts through my jewelry. She has six different pieces on the glass counter in the middle of the room.

Her eyes filter to mine in the mirror when I speak up. “You want to know what Nonna wanted to talk to me about?” Her face reveals nothing as she watches me before she nods. “She told me that Dad will announce in his speech that I am engaged to Nicholas Guerrero.”

Violette’s blonde eyebrows scrunch up and she shakes her head, as if in denial.

“Do you mean the man people refer to as the Scorpion?” she asks. My lips press together as I nod. She rounds the table and makes her way toward me.

“That can’t be right. We hate the Colombian cartels. Dad was complaining that they're trying to rip the Outfit off,” she argues from behind me. I grimly watch Violette as she looks at me with her eyes wide, gripping my shoulders.

“I guess they’ve come to an agreement.” I shrug her off and get up, grabbing my clutch before heading to the door. Violette rushes after me, and we walk side by side as we make our way to the grand staircase. We can hear Nonna screaming at some of the staff down there as we head down the stairs, our heels clicking against the marble. I grip the hard wood railing, biting the inside of my cheeks. Nonna is standing at the end of the stairs with Monica, Mom, and Marcello.

“Took you girls long enough. Come on, your Dad is in the car.” When we reach the final step, Nonna moves to the doors the butler opens for us, her cane loudly tapping against the floor. She mutters under her breath about our incompetence.

Dad doesn’t comment on our tardiness when we slip into the limo, as he’s busy typing on his phone. Our estate’s gold gates open as the limo drives through, and the tinted windows stop the flashing lights of the paparazzi cameras from irritating our eyes.

“They seem to love you, girls,” Mom teases, as if she doesn’t already know the reason the paparazzi are obsessed with our family. I turn my face to look at her sitting across from me in the limo.

She has a soft smile on her lips, which are painted a pink nude, her blonde hair done in an elegant updo. Her green eyes stand out tonight with her wearing a sage-colored cocktail dress.

Violette leans over and whispers to her, “Mama, they’re just a nuisance at this point. All they do is ask us outrageous questions to get a reaction.” Mom raises one blonde eyebrow while looking in my sister's direction.

Nonna turns to look at Violette as well, her eyes narrow and her lips set into a line. Instead of saying anything, she decides to grab a glass of scotch and mutter something in Italian under her breath.

“Violette, how’s school been? How’s your piano lessons going?” My mom, of course, takes the opportunity to change the subject to see if she can get Violette to open up.

Violette sighs and answers with a curt, “School’s fine.” She doesn’t like to talk about her piano progression, never does. I don’t understand why, because the last time we went to one of her performances, she’d been amazing.

Mom turns her head to Monica, who’s sitting next to her. “Mon, sweetie. How’s school been? Are you enjoying your ballet class?” Monica stops typing on her phone to look at Mom and nods. She isn’t much of a talker, ever since we were little kids, at least not after the incident.

Mom and Violette engage in some sort of conversation having to do with who’s going to be coming to the engagement party, but I tune them out, instead opting to look outside. The limo is going too fast to focus on anything to admire, but when we reach a red light, I can see that it is raining, and Chicago looks magnificent in the rain. Soon enough, the limo comes to a halt in front of the grand entrance of the club. Security lines each side of the door, and the driver, Dustin, opens the limo door for Dad. I know without looking that both my hands are shaking. I inhale deeply through my nose and fist my dress.1, 2, 3.

As I open my eyes, the corners of my mouth pin up in a dazzling smile, and I step out of the limo. “Thank you, Dustin,” I whisper, low enough for him to hear, but I don’t turn to look at him. The paparazzi are here as well, all standing behind where security is holding them. There’s double the amount compared to when we left our house, but I focus my vision ahead. Violette and I link our arms and the flashing of the cameras intensifies.

“Stay calm. You’re the Bellissima Moretti. Remember that,” Violette whispers in my ear while we both maintain the charade.Bellissima Moretti.Of course they’d give me such a dramatic name. What did I expect from the tabloids? The walk is short; we reach the gold-rimmed black doors in two minutes, but it would have been quicker if it wasn’t for the stupid paparazzi. Nonna and the rest are walking behind Dad, and we trail after them, our heels clicking on the wet sidewalk. The guards hold the doors open for us and close them after we walk in.

Inside, a long hallway is ahead of us, with an empty round reception desk to our right. The red carpet muffles the sound of our shoes as we make our way toward the grand cream-colored doors at the end of the hallway. On the black, gold-accented walls are images of all the past Capos, all in their prime. Dad turns to us and gives us all a warning glare before walking down the hallway to the two large doors, an attendant on both sides to open them for us.

As soon as I reach the top step of the long stairs, I spot Mia in a cream dress, talking to her Dad and stepmom. I can also see my aunt and cousin standing off to the side, away from my Dad’s side of the family. The floor is made of a deep brown wood and tables and chairs are scattered around the room, a cream linen fabric covering them. A large diamond chandelier in the middle of the ceiling illuminates the entire hall.

“Ugh, I don’t understand what you like about her. She’s quite dull, in my opinion.” Violette seems to have spotted Mia as well. I laugh quietly at her absolute refusal to admit that Mia is usually the life of any party. The place falls quiet as everyone’s attention turns to us.

Once we reach the last step, Dad says, “Welcome, everyone, please enjoy the festivities and have a great time.”

After everyone returns to their conversations, Mia decides to head our way. She has a soft smile, which she directs at everyone who tries to stop her on her way to us. And it’s quite a lot of people. I can see that Nicolette and Aunt Belinda are also making their way over. Nicolette is in a vibrant purple dress, her long brown curls up into a twisted bun, while my aunt is wearing an off-the-shoulder, long azure dress that matches her eyes.

“Val, I’ve missed you. It’s been so long,” Mia says as soon as she reaches us and pulls me into a bear hug, making me laugh into her silver bob. I inhale her musky vanilla perfume she loves to wear. “Violette, I see you’ve grown taller.” Her eyes take in Violette, a mischievous gleam entering them. Mia is still at least two inches taller than Violette. She gives her a fake smile that Mia returns.

“And I see you’re still unaware of how to greet another person.” Violette loves to comment on Mia’s lack of adherence to our society’s rules. Mia ignores the jab and turns her attention back to me. It’s all soon forgotten when Nicolette joins us.

“Hey, girls. I’ve missed you all so much.” Nicolette pulls us all into a hug, her arm around my neck as I laugh into her soft curls.

“I’ve missed you more, cuz,” I mumble. She pulls back, and I look around to see where my aunt has gone, when I spot her with my mom, both laughing together.

“Hey, Nikki, how have you been?” Mia asks, and I turn back to the girls. Nicolette shrugs her shoulders and scrunches her freckled nose.

“Shit. England isn’t as much fun as it used to be.” Nicolette and my aunt both live in England with her Jamaican dad.

“So, I’m guessing the English boys aren’t as charming as I thought they would be,” I tease her.

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