Emelia’s POV

“It’s going to be our last night here for a while,” My best friend 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.

I leave for Florence in the morning in prep to start my sophomore year at the Accademia delle 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.

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 that the chance to escape LA 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.

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.

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 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, Emilia.”

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. I can’t feel it either.

Besides… even though no one has ever said this, I get the feeling that no matter how close Jacob is, or what ties bind our families, my father would never allow anything more than friendship between us.

“So… I guess I should talk to you about that something, right?” he says, fidgeting. I 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 urges, “you have to come with me now.”

I frown. “What?”

“Your father needs you to come now.” I look back at Jacob.

“Why, what’s happening?” I prod.

“Just come, now,” he demands with a balled fist, reminding me that while I might be the Balesteri princess, he doesn’t answer to me. He answers to my father.

“Come on,” Frankie pushes, beckoning me to go with him.

I move toward him. He places his hand to the small of my back, ushering 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.

“Frankie, what is going on?” I attempt again, praying Dad hasn’t changed his mind about Italy.

Frankie doesn’t answer, so I don’t ask again. I’m led to the Bentley. Hugo, my father’s second in command, is at the wheel. Frankie opens the back door for me to get in, and once I’m strapped inside, he joins Hugo in the front.

A lump forms in my throat as the car sets off down the drive. 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 down the length of the driveway, my heart squeezes with fear when I look ahead to the house and see cars parked up outside and men at the door I don’t recognize. They’re holding machine guns.

“What is happening?” I whisper. Once again, no one answers me.

We just walk. Either they don’t know, or they don’t want to say. They must have been told something, though, because they lead me straight to my father’s office.

I only go in here when Dad wants to talk about my grades or my allowance. Since there’s no reason to speak of either, I can’t even guess what the hell this could all be about.

Frankie opens the door and I tense right up at the scene before me.

Dad is sitting behind his desk with a daunting look in his eyes, his face pale and sweat running down the side of his face. I’ve never seen him look so…disturbed.

Scared?

He looks scared.