Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

“I want nothing to do with a guy who only wants to ask me out because of who my father is.” I sigh. This is one of the reasons I usually avoid places owned by Cosa Nostra members. It happens all the time.

“Not all guys are like Lotario,” Zara whispers next to my ear.

“All the Cosa Nostra guysare,” I whisper back.

Status and position are the most important things in Cosa Nostra, and as the eldest daughter of the don, you could say thatI’m the most sought-after prize. I learned that the hard way last year.

Lotario, the guy who runs one of the casinos, approached me at one of the parties hosted by my father and asked me out. I couldn’t have been more thrilled and it felt like I was floating on a cloud. He was twenty-five. Impossibly gorgeous. And had impeccable manners. Lotario knew just what to say and how to say it to make a girl feel special. We went on a date to a fancy restaurant, where he had a private booth hidden away from the other restaurant guests’ view, reserved for us. A big bouquet of dahlias was waiting for me when we got to our table. “So we won’t be disturbed,” he said, when in actuality, he simply didn’t want anyone spotting us together.

We started seeing each other regularly, in secret of course. Lotario was afraid my father might not approve because of our age difference. He wanted to wait before telling him. I agreed. I would have agreed to anything—I was so naive, or maybe just stupid. Definitely blinded by all the attention he was showering on me. Expensive jewelry. Beautiful flower arrangements every time we saw each other. I was sad I had to throw them away as soon as I could because of my pollen allergy. I mentioned it to Lotario, but he insisted that I should be surrounded by pretty things. And then, there were extravagant dinners and his sweet compliments that had me enthralled, especially since I knew I wasn’t really a beauty. My looks are rather ordinary. At best, I guess I might have a bit of a “girl next door” look about me. But this charming and handsome man was smitten with me, and it felt so good.Ifelt beautiful and special.

When he asked me to come over to his place one night, I said yes. Of course I did. I thought I was in love with him. And that he was with me. I gave that asshole my virginity. It was quick and ithurt, but I didn’t mind. Then, he left the room, saying he needed to get something downstairs.

I don’t know why I followed him. Maybe, deep inside, I knew the truth. I found him on the porch, speaking with someone on the phone. He was bragging about how he finally banged Nuncio Veronese’s daughter, and how he plans on doing it every night until he gets me pregnant. I still remember his cackle as he said he’d be made a capo once he married me. By the time I collected my things and snuck out through the back door, I was crying so hard that I barely managed to order a taxi.

“Do you want to go home?” Zara asks, pulling me from my unpleasant thoughts.

I brush the painful memory aside and put on a smile. “After three hours of trying to talk you into coming out? No way.”

“Well, I didn’t think that I’d enjoy karaoke, but it’s kind of fun.” She shrugs.

“Of course it is,” Dania smirks and smacks my thigh. “And since Nera suggested it, she should go first, show us how it’s done.”

“Nope.” I laugh and shake my head. “You know how much my singing sucks.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. Off you go.”

“Fine.” I drain my glass of lemonade. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

Setting my empty glass on the table, I hurry toward the small raised platform on the other side of the bar where a guy with a microphone is waving me over.

As soon as I reach the stage, he hands me the mic, and the first soulful notes of “Un-Break My Heart” start.

“Oh, God.” I cringe. I like music, but I couldn’t hit the right note or carry a tune if my life depended on it. Sometimes, I sing in the shower or inside my car, but never in a room full of people.

Watching the words fade in on the small wall-mounted screen, I start the first verse. As expected, everyone around bursts into raucous laughter. I continue the song while my eyes wander to our table. Dania is nearly falling off her seat, giggling like crazy. Beside her, Zara squeezes the bridge of her nose, her hand blocking her face and her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. It is so unexpected that I lose track of the lyrics for a moment. I only managed to convince her to come with us tonight by threatening to find the first dangerous-looking guy I could and persuade him to let me practice first aid on him.

A quick glance at the screen helps me catch up on the words, and I resume butchering the song, howling even louder than before. I’m aware that I’m making a fool of myself, but as long as it puts a smile on my sister’s face, I don’t give a fuck.

Mercifully, the song ends, but I stay on the stage and look at the karaoke host.

“One more, please,” I say. “‘My Heart Will Go On.’”

A collective shriek fills the room as people laugh and beg the guy to take the microphone away from me. I guess they’ve had enough of my “talent.” Well, they’ll have to endure one more song. I don’t get to see my sister having fun too often, so I’ll make sure to prolong this as much as possible.

My second rendition is even worse than the first. One of the girls sitting close to the stage has her hands over her ears, gaping at me in horror, but the rest of the crowd is cheering me on. All I care about is Zara, though, and I notice she has her palm pressed to her forehead as she shakes her head in disbelief. Still, a wide grin is gracing her lips.

I’m in the middle of the chorus, laughing my ass off, trying to hit the high notes and failing miserably, when a slight shiver runs down my back. It feels like someone has just put the tip of their finger at the base of my neck and slowly slid it along my spine. An atavistic instinct alerting me that I’m being watched. But it doesn’t make any sense. More than fifty people are watching my idiotic performance, and I haven’t sensed anything until this very moment. I let my eyes glide over the room, finding nothing amiss, so, ignoring the weird feeling, I focus back on the second verse.

The sensation doesn’t dissipate, though, even after I’m done with the song. In fact, it becomes even stronger. As I’m heading back toward our table, it stays with me, like an invisible net of gossamer threads that I somehow got myself tangled in.

Someone else gets on the stage and starts singing. They aren’t any better than I was, and the audience is cheering and laughing again. No one is paying me any attention anymore, but I can feel it, that . . .something. Dangerous. Dark. Lurking somewhere in the shadows. Watching me.

“Nera? You okay?” Zara reaches out and grasps my hand.

“What?” I shake my head and laugh. “Yeah. Sure. So, how was I?”

“Magnificently terrible.”