Emelia
Present Day
“It’s going to be our last night here for a while,” Jacob states, looking around our little booth in the diner.
We’ve been coming here for so long that the place has become a second home.
“I know,” I agree.
A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I think of all the times we’ve spent here and the years we’ve been friends.
This is also the last night I’ll be seeing him for a very long time. Playfully, I toss a cheese ball at him. He catches it with his mouth. We both start laughing, and people at the nearby tables glance our way.
“Have you finished packing?” Jacob asks, setting his arm down on the table.
“I don’t know what kind of question that is,” I bubble, shaking my head at him.
He’s my best friend. He should know better than to ask me something like that.
I leave for Florence in the morning in prep to start my sophomore year at the L'Accademia di Belle Arti. My dream is to become an artist. I’ve been excited to go to Florence since my father booked the tickets. I’ve always wanted to study in Italy, just like my mother did. Jacob and I finished our freshman year at UCLA a few weeks ago. My bags have been packed since.
If Mom were alive, she’d be really proud of me. Going to the Accademia is the last thing I’ll do to follow in her footsteps. It’s going to be amazing.
“Sorry, my mistake.” Jacob chuckles. His large brown eyes sparkle. “It was more the case of me asking if you’re ready to go. But you were probably born ready.”
I laugh. “I was. I’ll miss you a lot, but I can’t wait to leave,” I confess.
It will be exciting to start my classes because some of the best teachers in the world will instruct me, but I won’t deny the chance to escape L.A. and my father’s controlling hand doesn’t appeal to me as well.
Although I’ll have bodyguards accompanying me and I’ll be staying with my uncle, this is the first time I’ll be going to Italy without Dad.
“I get it. I just hope your old man doesn’t have a heart attack.” He smirks.
“I know. I keep thinking he’s going to change his mind.” Like he nearly did about me going to college.
I wanted to go away to study right from the get-go, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it. We only settled on UCLA because it was close to home. He wouldn’t hear of me living on campus either. The best things about going there were the courses and getting to see Jacob.
It took the miracle of Uncle Leo’s assurance that he’d look after me and profound begging to get Dad to allow me to go to Florence.
“Fingers crossed he won’t. You worked hard to show him you’ll be fine, and you worked hard for the placement.” Jacob nods, looking proud of me.
“Thank you.”
I know what it means to be a Balesteri, and specifically to be the daughter of a mob boss. My father is a powerful man. As such, he has enemies. I already experienced an eye opener when my cousin, Porter, was gunned down in the street a few years back. My family isn’t average. Neither is Jacob’s. We’re both old enough and smart enough to know where we come from. Jacob’s father works for mine, so we’re well aware of the dangers we could face just for being who we are.
I love my father dearly and I know he just wants to protect me, but sometimes I feel like I’m living in one big gilded cage. Going to Italy will give me a chance to be free. Truthfully, I’m hoping that if everything goes well, Dad will allow me more freedom so I can travel around without constant supervision. Or his watchful eye.
“Your mother would be happy and very proud of you,” Jacob intones.
I draw in a breath, nodding slowly, and he reaches across the table to cover my hands with his. Mom’s been gone for three years now. Sometimes it doesn’t feel real. Sometimes the grief comes back to haunt me, and I remember how she suffered during those last few months when cancer got the better of her.
I wasn’t sure which killed her first—the rigorous sessions of chemotherapy or the disease itself. She didn’t even look like my mother in the end. The only thing that remained was her beautiful spirit. She was watching me paint when she took her last breath. I’ll never forget the way she looked after. Like she was proud of me. Proud for sharing her dreams in art, and proud for my desire to follow my own.
“That means a lot to me, Jacob.”
“I know it does. I’m seriously going to miss you a lot.”
“But you’ll come and see me, right?” I ask, hopeful.
He releases my hands and gives me one of his cocky grins. “Every chance I get.”
“You better.”
“You know I will.” He presses his lips together and I stare back at him as a sliver of awkward silence fills the space between us.
In his text earlier he mentioned wanting to ask me something important. I have a pretty good idea what that something might be.
He’s been different since we started college. Different in a way that suggests he wants us to be more than friends. I pretend not to notice, but I do. I see it now as he stares back at me.
I might be an idiot not to want him too. Jacob is handsome and has always taken care of me. But to me he feels like a brother. I can’t see us being more than friends, and I can’t feel anything more than friendship either.
Besides…even though no one has ever said this, I know no matter how close Jacob is, or what ties bind our families, Dad would never allow anything more than friendship between us. Definitely not when he’s told me I’ll have an arranged marriage someday, the way he did with Mom to bring their family businesses together. That was the news Dad hit me with on my eighteenth birthday. It was a onetime-only business discussion that enraged me because I’m the hopeful romantic who wants true love. However, since I know my father, I knew that discussion was final. The same way I have no freedom, I have no say in regard to who I end up with. During that talk, it went without saying Jacob would never be a man Dad would consider for me. So, even if I did return Jacob’s feelings, I know I can’t defy my father.
“I…guess I should talk to you about that something, right?” he says, fidgeting and tense.
“Yeah, you should.” I want him to tell me what’s on his mind so I can be real with him.
“I was…thinking about us and the relationship we have,” he begins. “We’ve always been great together.”
“Yes,” I answer, biting the inside of my lip. “We have.”
“Emelia, you know I really value you.”
I’m about to tell him I value him too—as my closest friend—when the door to the restaurant bursts open and Frankie, one of my father’s guards, barges through.
The moment our eyes lock I know something is wrong. My nerves spike when he marches over with a heavy thud.
“Emelia,” Frankie says, “you have to come with me now.”
I look back at Jacob then back to Frankie. “What?”
“I need you to come with me, urgently.”
Urgently? Oh God. The second my mind processes that word I’m overcome with worry.
“Why? Has something happened to Dad?”
This is similar to how I found out Mom had cancer. I was in class when Frankie came and told me she’d been in a car accident. She blacked out while she was driving and crashed her car. She was okay from the accident, but what followed next was a journey I’ll never forget. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my father. I couldn’t bear it. He’s all I have left.
“Please tell me he’s okay,” I stutter.
“He’s fine. He’s requesting to meet with you. It’s imperative we leave now.”
I swallow hard. “Frankie, you’re worrying me. Please tell me what this is about.”
“Emelia, don’t.” He shakes his head firmly. “I said it was urgent and that’s all you need to know. Now come,” he demands with balled fists and a glare, reminding me that, while I might be the Balesteri princess, there are certain things I’m not privy to and he’s under no obligation to tell me anything.
He answers to my father, and we both know when my father says I need to be somewhere that’s where I have to be.
No arguments, no more questions.
I stand. Jacob does too. I planned to stay out with him for a little while longer. We didn’t even get to finish our talk.
“I’m sorry, Jacob,” I say with a slight shrug of my shoulders.
“No, don’t apologize. I hope everything’s okay,” Jacob replies, but I can see the disappointment lurking in the depths of his eyes. I feel guilty for it because I know this is a conversation he’s wanted to have with me for a while and I’ve avoided it with fear that my answer would ruin our friendship. “I’ll see you in Italia.”
“You better,” I answer, throwing my arms around him.
“You have my word,” Jacob promises with a smile but gives me a watery gaze brimming with worry. “Buonasera.”
“Buonasera,” I reply with a little smile.
“Come on,” Frankie pushes, beckoning me to come.
When I move toward him, he places his hand to the small of my back then ushers me away.
“What about my car?” I ask, glancing over to the parking lot as we step outside.
“I’ll have someone pick it up,” he answers gruffly.
I’m led to the Bentley and see Gio, my father’s second in command, at the wheel. Frankie opens the back door for me to get in, and once I’m strapped inside, he joins Gio in the front.
A lump forms in my throat as the car sets off down the road and I glance back at the diner, seeing Jacob watching me as we pull away.
This is weird, very strange, even for my father. He’s never done this before.
Thirty minutes later, when we drive past the road that would take us to my home in Malibu, my heart squeezes. Dad was at home in his office when I left earlier. He never tends to go out once he gets home in the evenings, and definitely not on a Saturday.
My chest follows my heart, tightening with unease when we drive past the Balesteri Investments complex and carry on down the Pacific Coast Highway.
When we didn’t go to the house I assumed I’d be meeting Dad in his office at work. That’s the only other place he would be. Now I have no idea where we’re going.
We continue down the highway for another hour, driving past the marina at Long Beach then taking the route to Huntington Beach.
We turn onto a road with gorgeous state-of- the-art-looking beach houses that look like they were pulled from a dream. Then we’re back on another road where all I can see is the sea and the waves rushing up against the shoreline. As a large white wall comes into view and the car slows, tension knots my insides.
I have no idea where the hell I am or why Dad would be here, and at this hour. I’ve only been to Huntington Beach a few times and not in recent years. It was never to see anyone we knew. It was for fundraisers and I was with both my parents.
We pull up at a large metal gate that opens for us. When we drive through and I see ten Navy-Seal-type men guarding the entrance with machine guns, I know whoever lives here has to be either someone of great importance, or someone with a lot of enemies.
