Chapter 10

Mafia men are not good men. Yes, I notice how they stare at me with those heated eyes. I’m aware. Everyone has watched how their eyes track me like a wolf tracks a lamb before sinking teeth into its flesh. The one night I spent with them, having more orgasms than I could count, didn’t seem to change their fascination with me. I’m not afraid of these men, even if I should be. I dealt with Gia’s father for years, and then that Enzo guy. Thoughts of him still make me physically ill after what he did to her.

I’m in awe as I glance around their stunning bathroom. The shower is massive, with multiple shower heads; the countertop has enough space for four people to live comfortably with black granite. All the faucets are stainless steel. The walls are dark gray other than the one on the far end, which is a lighter color with gray splashes. My gaze darts around the room, taking in what can only be defined as opulence. Whatever problems the De Luca family has, it’s not money. But then there’s a price for everything. I often wonder what would happen to Giada if Domenic died or ended up with a lengthy prison sentence. I know they have money tucked away to care for their families. If that were to happen still it would break her. They have enemies, they always have, and I worry about her. She’ll always be a target and now their child will be as well.

After washing my hands, I head back downstairs to my friend. She stands in the kitchen with Domenic’s arms wrapped around her while she giggles as he nuzzles her neck. Am I jealous of this intense love they share? If I’m honest with myself, I am a little. One day, I’ll meet a regular guy that wants more than one date.

Domenic releases her when he sees me. I hug her, “I have to go. I need to rehearse a new song I’m putting into my set tomorrow.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “You could practice here. We do have a piano, you know.”

Rolling my eyes at her, I say, “Obviously, I know. I helped you pick it out.”

Giada wanted a piano three months ago to ensure her kids were well-rounded. The child isn’t born yet, so I think it’s like putting the cart before the horse but of course, I helped her. I wanted to be sure it was something I’d be happy with because I know that I’ll be charged with teaching the kids when the time comes.

“Please,” her blue eyes sparkle as she nearly begs, “You know how much I love listening to you play.”

It’s true. I know how much she loves it and she won’t be there tomorrow because Domenic doesn’t like her going without him. It’s not a control thing, it’s more about her safety.

I relent, “Fine. Only for a little while, though.”

She claps excitedly, “Yay!”

I walk out to their massive living room, which has floor-to-ceiling windows, a couple of large white sofas, and sitting chairs. The black grand piano fit in perfectly, like the space was designed for it.

Sitting down in front of the piano, I take a deep breath to calm my emotions as Giada yells, “Everyone, the amazing Natalia Grant!”

I roll my eyes at her and ignore the clapping from the De Luca brothers as I press the keys for the first few notes. My fingers glide over the keys as I sing the haunting melody. I’m a pianist; usually, you don’t expect a pianist to sing, but I’ve started only in the last few years. When I first incorporated it into my show, I was nervous people wouldn’t like it. However, I was pleased that they enjoyed it and it added an element that other performers didn’t have. Ticket sales increased and videos started popping up on YouTube. It’s not ballet, but it feeds my need to create.

Drake and Dante watch me like hawks, never taking their eyes from me, their gazes traveling my body with a heat that makes me feel like I can feel their fingers on my skin. Domenic holds Giada in his arms as she sways back and forth, his hands planted firmly on her bump. The room is thick with emotion as I sing about wanting, essentially what she has, something solid, something real. It’s a song of intense longing and it’s the theme of my life. Doesn’t everybody want to be loved? The piano is the only love I’ve ever known since ballet. I finish playing, Unloveable, to the small crowd and spot Giada with tears running down her face as she claps. God, I love her. I know I may never have a man that loves me the way Domenic loves her, but I’ll always have Gia. Her and music. Those are the two constants in my life. For now, it has to be enough. I’d rather dance, but that was taken from me.

Just for my friend, I break into my little rendition of You are My Sunshine, because I know she sings this for the baby all the time. She places her hand over her enormous belly and sings along, knowing I’m playing this for her. After playing for three hours, I stand and stretch. “I have to go, Gia.”

She walks over and hugs me. “Thank you,” she whispers into my hair. I hug her back, “Anytime queen,” and she giggles.

I wave goodbye to everyone else as she walks me to the door. As she walks me to my car, she asks, ”Are you okay?”

Laughing I say, “Oh just fine. There might be a little too much testosterone in your house, though.”

She sighs audibly. “You aren’t wrong. It’s practically a testosterone factory.”

We share a few laughs while Domenic stares at us from the doorway. He doesn’t like her out of his sight., “I better go before your husband loses his mind.”

Sliding into my vehicle as she nods, “Yeah, he thinks if he can’t see me, I might disappear.”

I roll down my window and close the door. “It wouldn’t be the first time. You can’t blame him for his concern.”

Leaning down, she kisses my cheek. ”I love you, Nat. Good luck tomorrow. Break a leg and all that.”

“Love you too,” I call after her as she joins her husband in the doorway and I drive around their circular driveway to make my way home.

The traffic is heavy, it always seems to be between our houses. It’s not far, but the massive amount of vehicles on the road always makes it seem further than it is. People lay on their horns as if it’ll make people move faster when there’s nowhere to go. I wait patiently for my chance to turn onto the street I live on. I’ll never understand the hustle and bustle here. It seems people are always in such a hurry, but I’m not like that at all. I don’t like getting upset about things I can’t control. It seems pointless to get wound up about things you can’t change.

I pull into the underground parking for my penthouse and drive into a spot near the elevators. Many people would love living in a place like this, but I don’t. I want a house with space to plant flowers. And independence from my parents that have no use for me. I do not know why they even pay for my home. I want them to never speak to me again. No, that’s a complete lie. I want them to love me like they do her. Nicole. They say jealousy is toxic, but how could I feel any differently? She has everything I’ve ever wanted. My sister is gorgeous, has a legion of faithful friends that follow her around like they’re fans, and the undying love of my parents. In their eyes, Nicole does no wrong. She’s as vicious as a rattlesnake. Still, they keep their rose-colored glasses on and worship her as she sits on top of the pedestal they’ve put her on since the day she was born, leaving me to wonder the same thing I’ve wondered a million times. What’s wrong with me? Why am I so unlovable?