One

'IF IT WERE UP TO ME , and I could, like, choose, I'd totally go for Giancarlo.'

And if it were up to me as well, and I could, like, choose, I'd totally un-hear what I just heard.

'He's just so dignified, you know?'

I'd even be willing to jump up and down and yell, 'I'm here, I'm here,' if I thought it would make any difference.

'No one wears an Armani suit like he does.'

But it won't since I'm invisible.

'Just like no one holds a gun like Cesare does.'

Figuratively, I mean.

'He just oozes of power and danger.'

'You make him sound like a criminal.'

Okay, I think it's time I put a stop to this.

We all work for the Marchettis, never mind if La Strega always insists on saying I'm part of her famiglia. That's just her trying to rile me up because she thinks it's not normal that I'm so quiet, and I...I think I forgot what point I was trying to make.

'You all make crushing on someone sound so complicated. Dating is not dating if it is not fun, dirty, and mindless.'

'You're talking about Massimo, aren't you?'

Everyone giggles, and I finally remember the point I was zeroing in on mentally, and that's how it's not proper at all to talk about the Marchetti men like this.

'It is true, isn't it? The rumors about Massimo fucking the brains out of that college student?'

I am absolutely in pain now.

It's one thing to crush on Boston's finest (and scariest, if we're being honest), but if they have to talk about it, too, they should at least stick to the facts instead of spreading unsubstantiated rumors.

It's time, it's truly time to remind everyone about the dos and don'ts that keep employees like us from getting killed. Do they not understand that we are working for famiglia? And not just any famiglia, but the Marchettis, whose matriarch is Boston's unofficial queen?

I step forward and clear my throat, but not a single woman in the locker room even turns my way.

Riiiiight.

How is it that I keep forgetting I'm invisible?

I take my phone out and start typing a memo when a message from our group chat pops on my screen.

SOS.

I quickly scan the rest of the message from Elaine, who's been assigned to the main deck.

On my way.

I'm already on the move as I type, and I'm already out of the locker room even before I've hit Send. Given the nature of her emergency, I think it's a given I'd be the best person to help her out.

The skirts of my sparkly, sequined, silvery gown swirl around my legs as I hurry up the spiral stairs, and mm.

Sparkly, sequined, silvery.

Swirl, spiral stairs.

Do I have the makings of a new tongue twister—-

Stop getting distracted, Cat!

I give myself a mental shake and refocus on the task at hand. La Strega has invited every famiglia in New England to tonight's Thanksgiving ball, and it's essential that we do not give any of our guests a single reason for complaint.

So focus, Cat! Focus!

I finally reach the main deck of the Marchettis' supersized yacht, and oooh.

It's like traveling back to the Gilded Age, and we're celebrating our first night on the sea. Everything's in black and gold, and everything that can shine and sparkle does shine and sparkle.

We have ice sculptures as table centerpieces, crystal goblets, and overflowing champagnes. And because this is all about famiglia, we even have the Marchettis' priceless ivory round tables set up for friendly card games. Absolutely no moneyed bets ( Black Friday Raid, hello?) , but losers will be joining our list of performers for tonight's speakeasy, and oh my gosh, I can't believe I let myself get distracted again!

I hurry to where Elena is and shoot her a silent look of apology. So, so sorry! I discreetly motion for her to leave, and she nods gratefully before slipping away.

I take her place just as the inebriated gentleman from Hartford, Connecticut finishes with his phone call, and he is visibly confused when he turns my way and finds Elena gone.

"Who...you?"

"I work for the Marchettis, signore. " I cup his elbow when he starts swaying, and I gently lead him towards one of the seating areas.

He starts rambling the way drunk men generally do, and I nod as if I understand what he's saying.

Not once does he try hitting on me in any way, and that's how it always is. It used to make me feel terribly insecure when I was in my early teens. Made me think I was the ugliest and least attractive person in the world.

And I kept believing that until I stumbled upon an investigation report that looked into my parents' death.

I was too young to remember how they died. All I knew growing up was that I was there when a group of men forced their way into our home. They tortured and killed my parents because they didn't want to betray the Marchettis. But for some inexplicable reason, they left me completely unharmed.

I used to think it was because my parents had found me a really good hiding spot, and it was only because of trauma that I couldn't remember the exact details of how I survived.

It was only after coming across the investigation report on La Strega's desk that I realized the truth.

And remembered what I had actually forgotten, and it was nothing like I imagined.