“What you doing, baby?” Michael stirred, jerking away from Vinn. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Vinn said breezily. “Carmela ruined an amazing practical joke.”
“Vinn made a joke?” Michael turned on his side, upsetting the sand burying his ankles. “Am I in a parallel universe?”
Vinn dumped a cup of ice water on Michael’s neck.
“Vaffanculo!”
The children shrieked with laughter as Michael sprang upright. Vinn sprinted into the ocean. Michael gave chase, tackling him. Both fell with a wide splash. Vinn was far from the dream-like perfection I’d worshipped.
And I didn’t care.
I loved him, flaws and all.
# # #
Thank you for reading Faked! Please leave a review if you enjoyed the story! I read every single comment about my books.
Anthony’s story is coming! Every burning question will be answered in my upcoming series, Villains of Boston.
Need more mafia romance? Click HERE for the first in my Vittorio Crime Family series!
Or keep scrolling for two chapters of High Stakes!
High Stakes
Maria hogs the full-length mirror as she breaks in her new dress, a tight, pink number that hugs her curves. Her long, black hair cascades down her back.
I wince at my reflection partially hidden behind her. The wrinkled jeans and faded t-shirt aren’t doing my figure any favors. My wardrobe is hopelessly outdated. I haven't bought so much as a sock in years.
Her gaze meets mine in the mirror. “You’re wearing that?”
“I know.” My face burns. "I don't have anything else."
I look awful. There's no way they’ll let me into a high-stakes poker game.
"Fuck it. I'll stay here."
“Don’t be stupid,” she says. “Just pick something from my closet.”
She marches to her side and opens the doors to her collection sorted by color. Her thin arm rifles through its contents, picking out a black body-con dress with a lace peekaboo.
She grins at my reluctance. “Try this.”
I take it and feel the stretchy material before removing my clothes and wearing the dress. The fabric is thick, almost like a bandage. It’s tight around my chest and stomach. I can’t zip the back. Maria helps me, gasping when she steps back.
“Look at how gorgeous you are!”
A woman with messy, dark brown hair stands in front of the mirror in a black dress that accentuates her every curve. I turn, and the girl turns as well, exposing the lace diving to the small of my back. The sweetheart silhouette barely covers my boobs. The woman in the mirror blushes violently.
“Maria! This is way too much!”
“Are you kidding me? It’s perfect!” Maria retrieves a pair of strappy black pumps. “Put these on.”
“It’s so tight.” I spread my hands over my stomach. The dress is flattering; it smoothes out any bumps I would have. God, maybe I am attractive.
My feet slide into the pumps, and I wobble. It's lucky that we have the same shoe size. She squeals with delight.
“Maria, I don’t know if this is me.”
"You're right. It's not you. That's why it looks so amazing."
I throw dirty socks at her head but she avoids the collision, grinning.
“Please, Adriana. Let me take care of everything.”
Her brown eyes are sparkling with excitement. Giddiness rolls from her body. She likes this sort of thing. I like to linger in the background, but this dress demands attention. It is loud.
She flies to her vanity, making me sit as she applies makeup. Eyeliner. Lipstick. I ask her not to give me too much, but she ignores me. She attacks my hair with a brush and spritzes my hair with thermal protector. She takes out her straightener and goes through every strand.
Finally, she lets me get up to look at myself in the mirror. My jaw drops, because the girl in the mirror is not me. She’s the woman I've always admired, the girl who knows how to show off her beauty. I have flawless hair and skin. To my surprise, there's not much makeup, but what little there is makes a huge difference. My eyes pop.
Maria utters another squeal and grabs my hand.
My throat closes up. “Maria, you’re amazing. Thank you.”
"I wonder if we should put your hair up. You have such delicate features. No, I don't want to overdo it." She glances at her phone and shrieks. “Shit! We were supposed to be downstairs ten minutes ago. I got so caught up in everything.”
I tear my eyes from the mirror and grab my clutch. Maria leaves the dorm, and I try to match Maria’s frantic pace. Jackie’s car waits by the curb. He steps out to open the door.
His dark eyes pass over me, not recognizing me at first. “Whoa.”
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Maria gushes. “Thanks to yours truly.”
Jackie’s face goes pink as he nods. I’ve never seen him so shy. I slide into the backseat with Maria as her crazed energy fills the car.
“I’m so pumped.”
I watch the bright streets of Manhattan, my heart flying with happiness. I feel young and alive, for the first time in a long while.
Tonight will be great.
Jackie presses the button for the twelfth floor. His quiet voice cuts through our chatter.
“So, I probably should mention that this card game we’re going to is not exactly—ah—legal.”
Maria looks shocked, but I shrug.
"Don't mention this to anyone else, okay? My brother said we could come, but he doesn't want any other outsiders."
His brother? I didn’t know much about Jackie’s brother, other than the fact that he was older than Jackie.
“Uh, ok.”
Maria and I exchange looks. Illegal card games? What am I getting myself into?
It’s too late to turn back now. The elevator pings and the doors slide open. We can already hear it before we see it. Somewhere down this hall is a party. Dozens of people's muffled voices and laughter reach us.
“They bought the rooms down the hallway so there wouldn’t be complaints.”
A well-dressed couple approaches the bouncer guarding a door. He checks their IDs before letting them in. The door opens, and I catch a glimpse of people dressed to the nines.
The bouncer is intimidating. He’s fat than muscle, but one swipe of his ham-like fists could knock us back to last month.
“Name,” he barks.
“Jackie Rizzuto. Brother of Frank Rizzuto.”
He looks at the ridiculously small notepad in his hands and nods. His eyes rove over Maria and I. Boulder-man gives me a small smile as he backs up and opens the door for us.
It’s a massive suite with tables of appetizers, alcohol, and desserts. I can see two rooms in the suite, and the one we’re currently standing in is packed with men in suits and women in cocktail dresses. Everyone is much older than us, but that doesn’t stop Maria from bouncing to the nearest table.
“Look!”
It's a kleptomaniac's paradise. There's a three-level tier filled with chocolate truffles and petit fours. I want to scoop it all into my purse. She grabs a few and bites into one of them, making an ecstatic moan. There's little baked tarts, smoked salmon, glasses, and glasses of champagne. A man standing in front of a white booth makes drinks. Around all of the tables laden with food are guards standing around the perimeter. A tiny sting of fear bites at my skin as I look at them. There's something about them that's downright ominous.