Anastasia in a floor-length dream in silver and Trish in a light green cocktail dress that grazed her knees. Not that I expected anything less from them. They had told me at length about their shopping trip to buy new clothes for the occasion.
Of course, I had not been allowed to go with them despite my best attempts to convince my parents. Instead, her mother had made me wear a dress I had bought for Christmas last year. My only consolation was that no one but my family had seen me wearing it, so I would not be embarrassed in front of my friends. “I hear it’s an acquired taste,” Trish added thoughtfully. She took a small sip from her glass, and her expression changed to one of bliss.
“I guess I’ve always had a soft spot for Dom Perignon, and in the past year I’ve certainly had enough opportunities to learn about its taste, and I plan to drink it even more often in the future.” She and Anastasia exchanged a laugh, and I cursed my parents again for protecting me so much. If Trish and Anastasia could defy the supposed dangers of our world, then so could I. Trish gave me a mocking smile, then hugged me with one arm, careful not to ruin either our hairstyles or makeup . Anastasia only smiled. Her bodice was a masterpiece of pearls and embroidery. “I’m afraid of pulling a thread if we embrace ,” she said only half apologetically. “That’s reasonable,” I said, taking another sip from my drink and forcing my face to show an expression of delight instead of revulsion at the taste. I knew that for most people this champagne was the height of their drinking fantasies, but I just couldn’t enjoy it. I should have tried harder if I didn’t want to see Anastasia’s pitiful expression again. “One of your hairpins is loose,” she said. My free hand flew to where she was looking and I tried to find the offending hairpin before it could ruin my ‘hairstyle. The other guests were casting glances at me anyway, since it was my debut at a party. I couldn’t risk looking less than immaculate. “Let me do it,” Trish said and simply pushed the hairpin back a few inches. “There. Done.” Her smile was kind. Was that all there was to it? One might have thought from Anastasia’s reaction that I had committed an unjustifiable fashion sin. “There’s quite a selection tonight,” Anastasia said. Her eyes lingered on a group of men in front of us and it was clear that she was not talking about the buffet. The men at the center of her attention were all at least ten years older than us, and as I surveyed the rest of the room, I realized that we were among the younger guests. Most of the attendants worked for Falcone. This was a party for his subjects;
I doubted that he had any friends. Men like him could not afford that luxury. “Of course, now that you are engaged to Cosimo, you have no eyes for other men, ” Anastasia said.
She continued, bringing me back to reality.
I didn’t know what to say. Her voice was strange. Was she jealous? Her father was probably already looking for a suitable mate for her, so soon she would be engaged as well.
“We’ll all get married soon,” I said in a conciliatory tone.
“You’ve got your hands on the highest ranking bachelor, that’s for sure,” she said with a tugged smile. Then he let out a laugh and clinked his glass against mine. “I’m kidding, don’t look so shocked.”
I laughed, relieved. I really didn’t want to fight with Anastasia over Cosimo. We were all going to marry good comrades.
The music increased and I took another sip of my drink. I was beginning to relax thanks to the booze seeping into my bloodstream, and I hardly cared about the occasional curious glances from the other guests. At the next party, I would already be one of them and someone else would be the center of attention . Trish tapped her foot on the wooden floor to the rhythm of the song and hummed a few tunes before Anastasia shot her a look. I had to stifle a laugh. The dynamic between them was ridiculous at times.
To my surprise, I realized that even my bodyguard had disappeared from view to give me some privacy with my friends.
Slowly but surely that evening was becoming beautiful.
I knew that Talia would give me a hard time when I returned tonight, but our parents had been right when they had insisted that she was too young for a social event at Falcone’s house. Of course I wasn’t going to tell her again. It would have been hard enough to make it up to her as it was, although a few juicy rumors would probably have appeased her. Not that I was a socialite. For that I would have had to rely on Trish and Anastasia . The annoyance toward my father grew in me. Perhaps he had refused to take me to a social event up to that point because he thought I would embarrass him in front of his boss.
I had heard him tell Mom several times how terrifying and brutal Falcone was, so it was not so far-fetched that Dad thought I might be trembling with fear in front of the man, which was ridiculous. He was still a human being, not the monster that Dad had always described, and even if he was, I doubted very much that he would hate to see me shaking with fear.
It probably would have excited him if he had been the man Dad had described.
“They’re a little too old for my taste,” Trish said, then took another sip of champagne, returning to our previous topic.
“I don’t mind. I want to be treated like a princess by my husband, and older men are more likely to appreciate me than a young boy,” Anastasia said. She turned a complicit smile on me. For some reason it seemed fake to me. “From what I hear the ‘deal between your family and Cosimo is almost done, so your engagement party will be soon.”
I frowned at the use of the word “agreement” when it came to marrying Cosimo. But in all honesty, it was probably the term that best fit the whole arrangement. I shrugged my shoulders , trying to act indifferent. I didn’t want to talk about him that night, especially since the topic seemed to irritate Anastasia.
“Oh my God, Falcone invited his monster,” Trish whispered , grabbing my arm and almost causing me to spill champagne on her dress. I followed her stunned brown eyes to a corner of the room where a tall, muscular man was leaning against a wall. He wore a white shirt that hugged his massive chest, a black suit, and black dress shoes. In fact, he didn’t look all that different from the other men in the room, except for the missing tie, if one considered only his suit. But the rest, God have mercy.
He looked too tame for someone like him. Or at least he had tried. There was no way to fool anyone about his nature. It seemed to radiate from him like a dark cloud of danger. It was almost palpable even from a distance.
My father had mentioned him once or twice in a low voice, but I had never seen him, and he was certainly not the type to appear in the gossip sections of the newspaper. I doubted that any journalist was crazy enough to risk the wrath of a man like him.
“The Bastard, that’s what most people call him,” Anastasia added. She looked like a cat who had spotted a bird. I knew why she was so excited. Nothing interesting had happened so far, but Anastasia probably hoped this would give the potential for some decent gossip.
“What is your real name?” I asked. I had tried to get my mother to tell me once, but the look she gave me prevented me from asking again.
“I don’t know her real name. Nobody knows it. People call him Growl to his face, and The Bastard behind his back.”
I looked at them. Really? They were both names he couldn’t have chosen on his own. Someone had to know his name. At least, Falcone did. He knew everything about his subjects. “Why do people call him that?”
Anastasia shrugged her shoulders but did not look at me.
“There’s something wrong with his vocal cords since he had a horrible accident. That’s why he has that big scar.”
I couldn’t make out a scar from our vantage point. We were too far away. I assumed Anastasia had gotten that information from the gossip as well. “What kind of accident?”
“I don’t know. Some people say it was the Russian Mafia , others say he tried to kill himself because he’s not right in the head, but no one knows,” Anastasia replied in a whisper .
Who would try to kill himself like that? And Growl did not seem the type to commit suicide. The first story with Bratva seemed much more likely. “So they call him Growl because that’s what he sounds like when he talks?” I asked.
Anastasia barely seemed to register my words, but Trish nodded in confirmation.
I did not ask why they called him the Growl. This I could explain. People in our world did not look favorably on children born out of wedlock. It was old-fashioned and ridiculous, but some things never changed.
I didn’t know who his parents were. They could not have been high-ranking members of society, that was certain.
I returned my gaze to the man. He seemed completely indifferent to what was going on around him, as if that party was just another one of his duties. But something told me that despite his ostensible boredom he was alert. I doubted that much of it escaped his attention. He was holding a glass of champagne, but it was still full. The ‘elegant crystal seemed tiny compared to him, and I marveled that he had not yet crushed it between his palms. As if he could read my mind, he turned his head and stared straight into our eyes. Trish gave a gasp and shook herself beside me, spilling a few drops of her drink on the expensive wooden floor. She could not have behaved more suspiciously even if she had tried. After a moment, both Trish and Anastasia lowered their heads abruptly, breaking eye contact. Perhaps to make him think they weren’t watching him, or perhaps they simply couldn’t stand the power of his gaze. Now I understood why my parents and even my friends looked so terrified when they talked about him. Even from a distance, his eyes almost made my knees buckle.
It wasn’t just fear that made my heart quicken, though; there was also something akin to excitement. It was like looking at a tiger through the glass of its enclosure and marveling at its power. Only here the only thing keeping him from attack were the social rules to which even someone like him was bound. The leash Falcone had put on him was not physical or visible, but it was there nonetheless.
I wondered what was going through his mind. How did he feel surrounded by people with whom he had almost nothing in common? He was one of them and yet he really wasn’t. A shadow man because no one wanted him in the light. When I realized how long I had been staring, I looked away, but my pulse kept going at an erratic pace.
I wasn’t sure when I had felt so-alive the last time. My life always meandered in its predetermined paths, but that night it felt like an adventure.
“Oh my God, how creepy,” whispered Anastasia.
“He should have stayed in the hole he crawled out of.”
I couldn’t say anything. My tongue seemed to stick to my palate.
“Is he still watching?” I asked finally, my eyes firmly fixed on the bubbles still rising in my glass.
“No, he’s gone,” Anastasia said with no small amount of relief. ” I can’t believe he came here. People like him should be with each other and not pretend to belong.”
I peered toward the corner where he had stopped earlier, but as Anastasia had said, he was gone. For some reason it unnerved me that I didn’t know where he had gone.
He was one of those people you’d like to keep an eye on because you’re afraid they might catch you by surprise. And I could have sworn I could still feel his eyes on my skin. I shuddered.
Paranoia was not usually my style.
I searched the surroundings, but he was nowhere to be seen . I shrugged off the ridiculous feeling of being watched. I didn’t feel like starting to act paranoid. If I embarrassed myself there, it would be a while before I was invited to anything again. Or worse, Cosimo would have decided I wasn’t fit to be his wife. Mom and Dad would never have forgiven me if that had happened.
“Look who’s coming,” Trish said under her breath, and for one ridiculously heartbreaking moment I actually thought it was Growl.
I turned to see who she was talking about and felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Cosimo was walking toward us. He was wearing a gray double-breasted suit, dark blond hair pulled back, and thin-framed glasses on his nose.
“He looks like a stockbroker,” Trish commented in a low voice.
He managed Falcone’s money, so he was not far off . The suit was his second skin. I had never seen him in anything else. It was in stark contrast to the man I had spied only seconds earlier.
Trish and Anastasia took a step to the side, crouched down and pretended to give Cosimo and me some privacy, which was really just pretending, since I knew they would attack our lips, memorizing our words.
I doubted they would use them against me.
After all, they were my friends, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
Cosimo stopped a little too close and brought my hand to his lips. I almost rolled my eyes at that gesture, although a small part of me enjoyed the appreciative glances Trist and Anastasia exchanged.
“Do you want to dance?” she asked, in a calm, even voice.
That, like the dress, was always the same. Trish had once compared it to a well-oiled machine. The term fit too well. His eyes darted toward my friends but he said nothing.
I did not follow her gaze, worried that Anastasia looked pissed off . Sometimes I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on with her .
I let her lead me toward the dance floor, aware of the curious glances of my friends following us, and they were not the only ones watching . My parents had also turned their attention toward us. I almost shuddered at the strength of that attention.
Don’t stumble, I told myself over and over again as we began to move to the music.
As we danced close together, I waited for a jolt, something , the smallest jolt in my pulse, but nothing happened. Not that Cosimo seemed madly in love with me. Not that love was necessary for a marriage, but it would still be nice. Cosimo tried to make conversation. The weather, how beautiful my dress was, that and what he thought might interest me. He couldn’t have been further away.
My friends were still observing Cosimo and me.
Although “observing” was not the right term for the look Anastasia was giving me. I really hoped she would find a man for herself soon. Knowing her, she was probably just pissed that for once I was in the lead, although I wouldn’t have minded if my father had taken more time to find me someone . I looked away from my friend’s frown and let my eyes rest on the corner where Growl had stopped.
He wasn’t there yet.
“My friends and I noticed a man earlier,” I said, not even knowing what Cosimo was babbling about before I interrupted him. “My friends told me his name was Growl.
He looked like…”
I went no further.
Cosimo’s grip on my back grew stronger. “He should have stayed where he belongs,” Cosimo said with a hardness that surprised me, then gave me an encouraging look.
“Don’t worry. You are safe. He knows he is not allowed near women like you.”
I opened my mouth for more questions but Cosimo shook his head. “Let’s talk about something else.”
There was nothing else I wanted to talk about at that moment, but I let Cosimo’s chatter lull me. That did not stop my gaze from searching the room for Growl.
Cosimo led me back to my friends, and a glance passed between Anastasia and him. Her frown had obviously not gone unnoticed by him either. If I had been braver, I would have confronted her and asked what the problem was, but I definitely didn’t want trouble at my first party.
Cosimo excused himself and headed toward a group of men, including Falcone. Trish handed me a glass of chilled champagne. “How did it go?”
“Fine,” I said automatically, not wanting to admit to them that I didn’t care about my future boyfriend.
“You were fine together,” Anastasia said softly.
Surprise ran through me and I immediately felt myself relax.
Apparently, Anastasia understood that there was no reason for her to be jealous of Cosimo and me.