Valentina

Chapter 11

Moscow, Russia – December 24th, 2019

Adrik taps me on the shoulder and I look up at him, coming back to reality. We're having Christmas dinner at one of the hotels my father has recently decided to invest in, in a room filled with relatives and business associates.

I stare at the people on the other side of the room. Most of his associates are men dressed in black suits, accompanied by beautiful women wearing long, elegant dresses, just like my mom (who made me wear an uncomfortable red pleated dress that makes me look fifty and a pair of stilettos from her own closet so I would 'look presentable').

It's weird having Christmas somewhere other than at our own house. We used to go to my grandparents (on my father's side) until I was six or seven years old - until they both died in a house fire.

Mexico to visit my grandmother on my mother's side would be too much hassle; especially since she apparently never approved of their relationship in the first place . She wanted my mother to marry a guy from her own country, but she was too gone for my dad to care.

Everyone seems to be on edge today - maybe it's because our family can't go anywhere without arguing first. In my defence, it was Adrik who started it all because he was texting instead of getting ready.

"I brought you a drink." Adrik says and hands me a glass with blueberries in it. "It's blueberry gin."

I squint my eyes at him after I take it and he sits down next to me. "Why are you being nice?"

"I'm bored." He admits and I nod in agreement. There are no other people our own age in attendance besides Raisa and Aleksi.

"Yeah, me too." I say, looking at my mother who seems to be very interested in what Raisa's mother, Valerya, has to say. "What do you think they're talking about?"

Adrik shrugs as he scrolls on his phone. "Us, probably."

Valerya Volkov has always seemed like a strong woman to me, even though I rarely talk to her. It's her first Christmas without her husband and she seems to be very composed about it, which makes me respect her and her family even more. I don't even know what I would do or how I would react if my father were to- bad thoughts.

I consciously decide to move my attention elsewhere, so I turn to Raisa, who is quieter than usual. "Are you okay? Why are you so quiet?"

"Yeah." She sighs, placing her phone upside-down on the table.

Judging by her expression and the way she placed her phone, she's about two seconds away from venting about a guy.

"I mean, I've been talking to Matteo over the holidays, but he sometimes takes way too long to reply. I think he's going to ghost me."

There it is.

"Why would you think that?" I ask her, even though it doesn't surprise me in the slightest.

I don't know him that well (or at all, really) but Matteo seems like the exact type of guy who would sleep with several people and not give a fuck what they felt for him afterwards. Plus, there's also the weird vibe I felt with his ex that made me think it's not really over between them. Not to mention that I think Isabella might be in love with him as well.

Raisa shrugs. "I know he's been hanging out with his ex, Allison. And they've been sleeping together."

I lean back, surprised but not really. "How do you know?"

"I figured it out, long story."

I make a face. "Oh, come on, this piece of information is the most interesting thing that's happened to me all week."

Raisa smiles and shuffles closer to me, eyes twinkling. "Okay. So I followed her on Instagram and she posted pictures from a hotel a few weeks ago, in a jacuzzi. And she tagged the hotel, which is owned by Matteo's family."

"Maybe she just likes going there." I argue, trying to be rational.

"Yes, but a few days later she posted another story with a bouquet of roses for her birthday and tagged him in it, even though he didn't repost it."

"I mean...okay, maybe. Or maybe they just have history and they like coming back to each other because they're comfortable." I tell her, speaking from my own experience. "During the last few months that I kept going back to Jamie even though we were broken up, I wasn't going back to him because I wanted him back. I was going back because I was horny and lonely sometimes and he was just there."

But I also remember being in Raisa's shoes when we used to date, how I would overthink every time he followed someone new on Instagram or when a girl was a little too friendly.

"I don't know. Either way, I'm done with him." she tells me, even though it seems like she's trying to convince herself more than me.

I raise my glass to her. "I support that decision."

She smiles and knocks her glass against mine.

We look out across the room, where people are talking a bit too loud now that the alcohol has sunken in. A few couples have taken to the dancefloor in the middle of the room, trying to imitate a very poor version of the Russian Waltz.

"Who knows." She trails off, nodding towards a table full of men in suits. "Maybe we'll find hot Russian businessmen here."

"They're my dad's age." I deadpan, then look around the room, looking for my him. I haven't seen him since he made a toast in which he thanked everyone for spending Christmas Eve with us.

After a few minutes of silence and people watching, Raisa asks me what we're doing for New Year's, even though we've talked about it a few days ago.

"Isabella invited me to Italy- oh, I need to reply to her. But yeah, we're going to that party in Moscow, right? With our friends from middle school?"

I knew some of the people that would be attending the party, yes, although I'm not sure I would call them friends per se. They're just people I used to spend time with when we were younger, before I went off to boarding school.

Most of them stayed in Moscow for high school and then university, but there was always someone we knew who had something going on while we were back home in Russia.

I smile. I miss her.

***

Moscow, Russia – December 25th, 2019

Christmas morning always goes down like usual. My mother is up before I can even think about existing, cooking and drinking a glass of whine as she talks on the phone with some of her friends from Spain. My father is holed up somewhere in his office on the other side of the house, also taking calls from people who are most probably not his friends (his only close friend used to be Aleksander Volkov).

I don't bother dressing up today, so I just throw one of my satin robes over my pyjamas, grab my phone, then head downstairs. The Volkov's are going to join us for lunch as they usually do, but there are a couple of hours left until they're supposed to arrive, which means the dress code is basically non-existent until then.

Adrik isn't in the living room, so I go back upstairs, heading straight to his room just because I feel like pestering him a little.

"Do you ever knock?!" he asks, sitting up straight on his bed. The way he's holding the phone in his hand tells me that he's on the phone with someone.

I step into his room. "Am I interrupting something?"

"I'm on the phone."

"With?"

"None of your business."

I raise my eyebrows and shoot him a taunting grin. "With your girlfrieeend?"

"Fuck off Valentina." He whisper-yells and covers the phone with his hand.

"Why are you so cranky?"

"Get out of my room and close the door!" he warns, standing up. I raise my hands in defence, not even pretending to be intimidated by my little brother.

"Jesus, what got up your-"

I squeal and step out of his room when he marches over, watching as he slams the door shut.

"I know, right?" I hear him say to whoever he's talking to, and I flip off the door.

I decide to waste some time staring at the portraits hanging on the hallway's cream-coloured walls. Anything is better than having my mother micro-manage me into doing something.

The portraits of Erik Levin, the grandfather on my father's side, never cease to creep me out. The first one is dated September 19th, 1966, when he was about twenty years old. He's sitting behind a large wooden desk, leaning back into a chair that looks more like a throne. He's wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the first two buttons undone.

He has the same blonde hair dad and Adrik have, but his eyes are blue like my uncle Boris'. There's a boyish smile tugging at his lips as he stares right into my soul, and he looks excited. He died when I was five so my memories of him are vague and almost non-existent, but this is by my favourite picture of him.

Unlike the second portrait right next to it, dated over thirty years later on June 6th, 1999. He's standing in front of the same desk, dressed in a dark blue suit and leaning against a cane with a carved lion's head for a handle.

What terrifies me about the painting is that he looks like a completely different person. His sunken eyes are void of any life and his face looks stern, serious, unlike the man in the previous portrait. He's still looking at the person who's painting him, but this time it's a blank, disassociated stare.

The hairs on my arms rise the longer I stare at it. There's something dark about the way he's just standing there, his face worn by age and the things he must've seen to look like that.

A man's orotund voice echoes down the hallway, from where my dad's office is located, pulling me out of my dazed state. I take one last look at my late grandfather before I walk towards the voice.

I know better than to enter without knocking, so I press my ear against the door.

"How are we going to handle this?" someone whose voice I don't recognise asks.

"I don't want anyone to do anything about it until I know all the facts."

"It wasn't a misunderstanding Kyril, and you know it."

"I don't know anything yet. Let's wait it out and see. And lower your voice, my family is in the house."

There's a moment of silence and I hold my breath.

"If someone else dies, we're going to have bigger problems than your family overhearing."

"Then let's make sure it doesn't happen again."

My dad is using a tone I've never heard before. It's low and authoritarian and demanding. I step away from the door, confused.

Who died? What?

"What are you doing?"

I spin around to look at my mother standing at the top of the stairs with a plate in hand.

"Uh..." I say, stepping further away from the office so my dad won't hear us. "I was just going to see what dad was doing."

"He's in a meeting."

"On Christmas Morning?"

Mom shakes her head and walks up to me. "He's going to be done soon, but emergencies happen." She places her hand on my cheek and gently strokes it. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not."

But who died?

She squints at me. "Guests will arrive at three." Gives me a onceover. "Dress nicely."

I roll my eyes and she smiles, then leans in to kiss my temple.

***

The Golden Mile, Moscow, Russia – December 31st, 2019

The New Year's party is at a townhouse in a part of the city most people call 'The Golden Mile'. It's close to the Kremlin and is very well known for the fact that it houses Moscow's richest and most influential people: billionaires, politicians, businessmen, and celebrities.

When I was younger, I would stare at the buildings as the bus passed them by on my way to school, wishing that one day I'd live in one of those townhouses. The dream faded once we moved out of the city to a gated community in Zhukovsky on the outskirts of Moscow. Although nothing beats waking up on Christmas morning in my own room with a view of our gardens covered in snow, I sometimes miss living in the city.

Back when we were celebrating Christmas in our apartment in those communist type building blocks it was always too noisy and too cold-but I was happy. I was happy even when I would cut out photos of my dream houses and dresses that I wished to wear someday and use them to make collages. I guess I was manifesting my life before I was even aware of what being 'rich' really meant.

A girl I know from middle school greets us after we've rung the bell and places two drinks in our hands as soon as we take off our coats. I'm almost certain her name is Sasha, but then again, I was flying under the radar in middle school due to confidence issues. I only knew the names of the popular kids, which everyone knew and talked about.

"This is Sasha's boyfriends' place. His name's Rick. I think you might also know him from school. He was a year above us." Raisa explains as we walk down the hallway.

I nod as if I have any recollection of all these people Raisa is telling me about, but I am very good with faces and numbers so I can recognise about 90% of the people here, could maybe even tell you some of their birth dates, but their names? I've never been good with names. Five seconds after meeting someone I've most probably already forgotten their name.

The townhouse is three stories high and even though it's minus five degrees outside, some people choose to smoke on the terrace overlooking the city. After a few drinks I also become one of those people, so Raisa follows me outside into a corner so we can smoke our cigarettes in peace.

She shows me an Instagram story. It's a photo of Matteo and Vinnie on a balcony.

"He's so hot, ugh."

"Matteo?" I ask, trying to focus solely on our conversation. "Are you still talking to him then?"

She nods, taking a sip from her drink. "Well, we had sex."

"Since Christmas?"

She rolls her eyes. "No. But it's like, good sex."

"The best of your life?"

She thinks about it for a second before she nods. "Yes. He definitely knows what he's doing."

I don't know how to continue the conversation, but it turns out that I don't need to because she keeps on talking. "How many girls do you think he's slept with?"

I shrug, puffing out smoke. "I don't know, twenty, maybe?"

At this she laughs, throwing her head back. A few people turn around to look at us but I ignore them. "What, you think he's slept with more than that?"

"Last time I heard a number it was around fifty."

I frown. "Did he tell you that?"

"No, but people talk."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a group of three girls talk to each other and looking my way.

I turn my attention back to the conversation with Raisa. "Didn't he have a girlfriend up until recently?"

"It's Matteo Giudice." She enunciates it like it's supposed to mean something. "Everybody knows everything about him." She stops to look at me for a second. "You really didn't know who he was until this summer?"

"I've known Isabella since ninth grade, and Vinnie even before that. They might've mentioned Matteo in passing, but no, I've never met him before. I don't know him, who he is, or what people are saying about him."

She leans against the railing and holds up her cigarette.

"Well, everybody suspects that his family is in the mafia. His father's a billionaire and he basically owns half of Sicily and half of New York."

I try my hardest not to make a face. It sounds ridiculous, honestly, because come on. Mafia? Owns half of Sicily and half of New York?! Please.

"I find that hard to believe."

Raisa glances at me, unimpressed that I don't buy it. "The billionaire part may be a lie, but trust me, there's something shady going on, and I'm pretty sure the Barone family is also in on it somehow."

I wonder if she has ever suspected that our own families might be involved in illegal businesses, but the way she feels so free to speak about such things proves that the thought has never even crossed her mind.

She probably thinks that our parents built a conglomerate that got so successful so fast through legitimate means, (even though our families went from living in a two-bedroom apartment in Moscow to a multi-million-dollar mansion in a gated community in less than three years). The math just isn't adding up for me.

A guy walks past and does a double take when his eyes land on me. I watch him walk over to his friend and nod his head in my direction.

"Why would the Barone family be involved?" I ask, thinking about Vinnie and Eddie and how we grew up spending our summers together. I also know their parents who know my parents, and there was never a moment that I thought the Barone family had something to hide. They've always seemed like nice, normal people.

"Because there are thousands of people in the Sicilian mafia. I think Matteo's father is the leader and then people like Vinnie's dad work right under him."

I can't help but laugh. "It kind of sounds made up, Raisa."

"You'd think so, but I've heard stories from Allison's friends."

I raise my eyebrows. "For example?"

"So, you know how Matteo's family is in the insurance b-"

"I thought it was the nightclub industry."

"I think they have more businesses than your father does, Valentina." She rolls her eyes. "Anyway, this 'insurance' business apparently means going to newly opened businesses to get them to sign up for an insurance plan against any possible disturbances. And if someone doesn't think they need insurance, then they'll give them a reason to get insurance...if you know what I mean." She sees my confused face because she continues explaining. "They blow up their stores or send out people to rob them."

"How do you know they're blowing up stores? I mean, come on." It all sounds way too ridiculous.

"Because one of Allison's friend's dads refused to buy insurance for his restaurant and two days later it burned down. He loaned money from the Giudice's to restore it and ended up signing up for an insurance plan."

This discussion is too much for me. I would have never thought Raisa was the type of girl to spread gossip around so easily (well, maybe I did, but not like this), especially when she knew how important privacy is for most families at our school. I nod, then change the subject.

We finish our cigarettes and drinks, so we decide to go inside and pour ourselves another round.

"She's with him." is all she says as I try to get the Gin and Tonic ratio just right.

"Who? What?"

She shows me something on Instagram. It's a photo of a view of the sea from a dimly lit balcony with the tag 'Palermo' and a thirty-minute countdown. "Allison posted this five minutes ago. She's spending New Year's with Matteo. Look." She points to one of the few guys looking out at the sea, who I didn't even spot the first time I looked at the photo. "That's Matteo and the Barone brothers."

I feel bad for her because I can see my younger self in the way she analyses every single photo of an event he's at, wanting to know exactly what he's doing and prepare for the worst.

"Maybe they're friends." I try.

"No, they always get together when they're at the same location. It's like she can't let go. But I guess I understand why she keeps going back. The sex is incredible."

I stare at the two glasses on the counter, trying to remember the last time I had sex. It was months ago, back in June probably, after I'd gone back to Jamie for the last time and swore to myself that I would never do it again. And for the first time, I really did keep the promise I made to myself.

"It's like he knows exactly what he's doing and how he should be doing it. I didn't even have to tell him what I like." She continues.

I smile and shake my head. "Sounds...fun."

"It is. And he's big too, but not to the point it hurts. Just the right amount."

I make a face. "Not really something I wanted to know, but thank you." I joke.

We choose to stand by the bar in the corner of the living room where people are dancing, just to be near the music but also be able to talk. I can tell that she needs someone to talk to about her feelings for Matteo.

A little part of me wishes I were in her place though because I miss having a crush, or someone I can obsess over.

"He's always going to be like this though, I guess I need to remind myself from time to time."

"Hm?"

"He's never going to be able to settle for just one person. He gets bored easily, he always needs a new distraction. And his dick just goes along with it. Doesn't care who it is as long as someone's there. And Allison's always there."

"Maybe he doesn't want love or romantic relationships right now." Not really sure why I'm playing devil's advocate, but I'm a little bored and also a little bit annoyed.

"I don't even think he knows what that means."

"Well, he was with Allison for a few years, right? Maybe he wants a break. To have fun."

"I meant that he doesn't know what love is."

I shrug, looking out at the crowd of people. My eyes fall on a guy I remember seeing around school before. I always thought he was cute, but he was a year above me and didn't even know I existed back then. I'm 95% sure that his name is Isaac, but there's a slight chance that I might be confusing him with someone else.

"Who's that?" I ask Raisa.

She follows my gaze and smiles. "That's Isaac. He's at NYU studying World Economics. He dated half of the girls in our year back when we were in middle school. We used to have the biggest crush on him, remember?" she laughs, and I smile. We used to be so close when we were younger and living in Russia. We grew apart at boarding school though, because she always wanted to hang out with people I didn't necessarily like to be around. Those types of people who undermine others and pretend to be someone else in order to be admired by everyone.

I make eye contact with Isaac, and it's incredibly obvious that we were talking about him.

"Oh shit." I say and we laugh even harder now because we've been caught.

"He's coming over here, I'm dying." Raisa says and I shush her as we both watch Isaac making his way over to us.

He stops in front of me, and a dimple appears on his right cheek as he smiles. He's taller than I remember him, and the amber eyes with dark brown hair combo still makes him look gorgeous.

"You look familiar." He tells me and I exchange glances with Raisa before answering.

"We went to the same middle school."

"What's your name again?"

"I never told you my name." I tell him. "Valentina."

"I saw you at the club in Manhattan a few months ago, that's why you seem familiar." He says, snapping his fingers and smiling.

"Maybe." I smile at him. He's still so attractive and he's got that sort of baby face with the jawline that I like when it comes to guys.

"You know Matteo Giudice?"

I shrug.

"I know him." Raisa interjects, leaning forward. "Why?"

Isaac turns to look at her. "He's a friend of mine, I think it was his party."

"How do you know him?"

"We were classmates for two years in school. I moved to New York in eleventh grade."

"How come I never saw you at school?"

"Uh...I didn't really attend school." Isaac says, not taking his eyes off me. I pretend to look down at my drink to let them talk, even though I can feel him watching me.

"And what do you study now?" she asks, even though we both know the answer.

"World Economics at NYU."

The conversation drifts off after that and I pretend not to notice that Isaac is going out of his way to make conversation with me while Raisa obviously wants to know everything about him.

A girl that looks familiar walks over to us, looking determined. She introduces herself as Sasha and asks whether we're having a good time.

I realize that everyone around is now subtly watching our conversation, and I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

Raisa, thankfully, carries the conversation for a couple of minutes until Sasha is called somewhere else.

"Is it just me or are people staring?" I ask, with the risk of

"Your family is very interesting to people who stayed in our hometown their whole lives."

"Excuse me?" What does my family have to do with anything? "Why would they even know my parents?"

"We left before we were old enough to notice."

"Notice what?"

"You're what Matteo Giudice was for girls at our school."

Matteo Giudice? Who the fuck is Matteo Giudice supposed to be?

"You're saying it like it's supposed to mean something."

Her eyes move to Isaac, who has been watching our whole conversation unfold. It's a look that says he shouldn't be hearing what she's about to say.

"You haven't really gone out that much in the past few years, and it shows."

Two hours after midnight I get bored and decide it's time to go home. I'm surrounded by people who are familiar and strangers at the same time, and I can't do small talk.

Raise decides to stay and keep partying with Isaac, but my entire body is telling me to just go home and go to sleep, so I listen to it.

***

I arrive home around 3am and the house is dead silent. My parents usually have a few friends over for New Year's, but it looks like that has already ended. I know Adrik is with some friends, so I don't even bother checking if he's awake as I make my way to my room.

"What are you going to do about it?" I hear my mother's voice coming from my father's office. There's light shining from under the door, and I take off my boots so I can walk closer without being heard.

"I don't know. I don't want to repeat history again."

"Was it a misunderstanding?"

"They're saying we instigated it." my father replies.

"Did you?"

"No. We didn't send any men out to Europe during the holidays, and I don't want to go back on the peace agreement."

I step even closer to the door.

"What did you tell their families?"

"We told them that they got lost at sea."

So, someone did die.

"Does it have the potential to become dangerous?" my mother asks, and I can tell by her tone she's getting worried.

"I think we'll sort it out soon enough. I'll reason with them."

The conversation drifts away from the subject, so I turn around and tiptoe back into my room. I fall asleep wondering who died and why my parents were talking about it.

-----

Valentina

Chapter 12

Private plane, above Russian airspace – January 4th, 2019

We fly back to New York three days later on Saturday the 4th with the company's plane, which always flies us from the private airport outside Moscow to the landing strip near Albany, where a car would be waiting for us to take us to campus.

Adrik takes the seat in the corner closest to the door and puts his headphones on before we even take off. Raisa chooses to sit across from me in the left corner, Adrik goes right to sleep, and Aleksi takes the space across the aisle from us, busying himself on his laptop.

As soon as the plane is off the ground I busy myself with a new book by Paulo Coehlo, but Raisa gets bored scrolling on her phone soon enough so she starts up a conversation.

"Did you hear about what happened in Sicily?" she asks, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair, ready to spill it.

I close my book, already knowing that it won't be a short conversation if it involves Matteo. But if it's distracting me from thinking about a hundred different scenarios of my parents being involved in a crime, I don't mind it.

"No, what happened?"

"So apparently someone called the police on the party saying there were drugs involved and everyone got busted. Matteo, Vinnie, Eddie and Marco were taken into custody with like half a kilogram of cocaine and weed."

"Oh shit." I say, genuinely feeling worried for Vinnie especially. "Where are they now? What happened?"

"A friend told me that they took them down to the station and let them go thirty minutes later."

My mouth falls open. "What? What about the drugs?"

Raisa shrugs. "I don't know. I think the police kept them."

"Are they under investigation?"

"Not as far as I know." She turns to look at Aleksi, who also seems interested in the conversation. "What do you know?"

Her brother shrugs. "Just that they're fine. They weren't charged with anything."

Raisa looks at me in a knowing way. "See? I told you they were mafia."

I roll my eyes but then I also see Aleksi nodding. "Wait, you believe that shit too?"

"I do."

I look at him incredulously. He's always been the level-headed one in the Volkov family.

"It sounds made up, but they are in the mafia." Aleksi states. "I've seen their bodyguards and what they do."

"Plus, they own the police and that's why they never get into trouble." Raisa adds.

I'm still reluctant to believe them, but Aleksi looks at me with a serious look. "Valentina, you have no idea how deep and dark these things can get."

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure he hooked up with Allison. She posted a photo the day after that from his house in Palermo, and I could see his cat in the background."

Aleksi loses interest in the conversation, probably because he doesn't want to hear his sister talking about some guy she's having sex with.

"How long have you been sleeping with him?" I ask, ready to give her my final opinion on the matter without hurting her feelings.

"Uh...since Halloween?"

"And how often?"

"Every weekend, almost. Whenever we're in the same place we go to his place afterwards."

I nod. "Well, from what I understand, it seems like he just enjoys sleeping around and having fun. I don't think he's got anything serious going on with Allison. Or anyone, for that matter." I'm slightly hinting at the fact that she's one of those people.

"I know." She exhales with a hint of sadness in her voice. "But there's just something about him that makes me want to go keep going back."

"Do you get along?"

"Yeah. He's funny, and he's smart. And very good in bed. I get tingles just thinking about it. He talks me through it and he always knows exactly what to do."

"If he gives you tingles down there, then you're definitely fucked." I tell her, not even trying to make a joke.

"I know, right?" she exclaims, excited that I'm sharing this with her. "So when did you last have sex? Have you ever had anyone else except Jamie?"

I shake my head. "It was last year and no...I haven't."

"Jesus, Valentina. I would've bet you have at least five by now!"

I shrug. "I don't know, I just-I don't know. I want it to be...spontaneous, you know? Like I want it to be exciting and I want someone to impress me- I don't know."

"You've never had a one-night stand?"

I shake my head.

"So you've only ever seen one?!"

"No, I've done...stuff with other guys, but I haven't had sex sex." I explain, looking around to see if Aleksi or Adrik are listening. They're not, thank God.

"If you had to pick one of the guys to be a one-night stand, who would you choose?"

"What? Out of who?"

"All the boys you know." She answers, smirking.

I think about Vinnie first, because I've always thought he's cute and attractive, but I never really considered him as a real option because he also has never seemed interested.

"I don't know, maybe Vinnie?" I say.

"Oh my God! I thought you would've said Marco."

"Adrik's friend?" I ask, unwillingly making a disgusted face. There's nothing wrong with him though, he's genuine and good looking and tall and tan and tattooed – a girl could do a lot worse. But he's my younger brother's friend.

"He's friends with Adrik?" she looks surprised. "But he's Matteo's brother."

"Yeah. I've known him for a long time, they used to play on the same team when I was in school. Why would you think I'd choose Marco?"

I look in Adrik's direction, but he looks like he's still asleep.

"Because he's obviously into you and you two seem cute."

"When did you even see us?"

"This summer in Taormina, or at Matteo's apartment. It's so cute how he gets all fidgety around you."

"I haven't noticed." I say, trying to remember the last time I talked to Marco and whether there were any clues. I don't like Raisa putting things in my head because I know she likes to gossip and may make things up just so she could have something to talk about. "And I'm not interested in anyone anyway right now. I want to focus on myself for a while."

"Valentina, it seems like you've been doing that your whole life."

"That's not fair. I was with Jamie for years."

"Yes, and you spent all of your time with him and began ignoring your friends."

I frown. "Not on purpose though."

"Yes, I know. But I'm just saying, it's okay to have sex with someone else if you feel like it. Jamie isn't the only guy on the planet."

"It's not about that."

"Then what is it about?"

"I know exactly who I could sleep with if I wanted to, but having options sometimes means none of them are special."

Raisa looks at me bewildered. "What?"

"I don't only care about how a guy looks, you know? I want to be impressed, surprised...I want it to be exciting." I don't elaborate further because I know it's not the right person nor the right place. I just can't be attracted to someone sexually if they don't excite me in any other way.

"Matteo is pretty exciting." She says, like she's trying to sell me the idea of him.

"In what way?"

"He can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He asked me to go to the Bahamas one morning because he saw a video on Instagram and I couldn't say yes because I knew I had a project due. He even offered to pay for everything, like he always does. Never even asks or hints at it."

Money is clearly a factor here, even though her family has loads of it.

"We were out eating one evening and everybody knew him wherever we went. Even at the clubs he doesn't own, people know him. He's just so...charming."

"Maybe you like the idea of him."

"I think I've gotten to know him really well over the past few months."

"Do you text?"

"Yes, sometimes. And sometimes he takes days to reply. He's sort of like you." She jokes, even though it's clear that it bothers her.

I take my phone out and text Isabella.

She sends a voice message.

I put my earphones in and press the voice message.

"We were at Vinnie's house and Sofia got mad at him for flirting with Ariana so she called the police on him saying he had drugs. They arrived like, around midnight- I don't even know, the party was busted after that. But I'm telling you Allison and Sofia planned the whole thing-"

"Stop talking shit!" Matteo's voice is heard in the background.

"Fuck off, I heard them talking. Anyway. We're on our way back to New York, the boys were let go and now everything's normal."

"Who are you even talking to about thi-"

The audio cuts off.

After we usually land, there's a six-person SUV waiting to take us on the one-hour trip to Hamilton University.

"Uhh...I think Isabella lands at the same time as us, and she asked me to go in her car on the way to university because she wants to talk to me about something."

Raisa looks surprised but unimpressed.

"Is it about what happened at New Year's?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I think it might be boy trouble as well." I lie.

"Oh really." Raisa says, leaning forward. "With who?"

"That's what I mean, she wants to tell me in person." I say, and it is clear now that no matter what uninteresting thing I come up with, she'll want to know.

"Alright then."

After a few moments of silence, she asks me whether Matteo's with her on the plane. "Vinnie posted a story from the plane." She explains.

I look up from my phone, taking out my earphone as a sign that I want to be left alone.

"Maybe, I think so." Then I put my earphone back in, consciously ignoring her for the rest of the flight. There's something about her that I've never realized before: how much energy she drains from me when she starts talking about other people and their problems, without even seeing her own. I've got my own shit to deal with. Well, not really, but some peace and quiet would be nice.

***

We land around 9:30pm local time and get into our car. As we leave the landing strip, there are two SUVs just like ours blocking the exit.

"Who's in the cars?" I hear Raisa ask herself as I open the door.

I say goodbye to my brother and the Volkov's before I look straight at the two cars in front me. Isabella pops her head out through the roof of one of them, happily waving.

"Hiii." I greet her as soon as I'm in the car and the door slides closed behind me. She hugs me and as I sit down, I notice Matteo on the seats across from us, on his phone.

"Hi." I tell him and he looks up, nods, then looks back down at his phone. I try not to think about what Raisa has told me about him. Those were just stories as far as I knew, but the way he nonchalantly lives his life makes me think he really doesn't give a fuck about anything.

"So what happened to you?" Isabella asks, crossing her legs and leaning against the opposite wall of the car on our side.

"I overheard my parents talking about someone dying."

"Like a relative or something?"

"No, someone who worked for them got killed. But the weird part is that I think they're trying to keep it a secret, like they have something to hide."

Out of the corner of my eye I see Matteo looking up at me.

"Do you think they had something to do with it?" Isabella asks, genuinely concerned for me.

"I don't know. They're just being secretive about it."

"What does your father do?" Matteo asks me out of the blue.

I turn to look at him. He looks tired and I can see the circles under his eyes every time the car passes under a streetlight.

"He's a businessman." I answer, because in all honesty, I don't know exactly what my father's job is. I'm sure that all he needs is one conversation with Raisa to find out about our family history. For all I know, he knows already. I can't imagine what the two of them could talk about, but it's fascinating to think about it.

"Were you scared when the police came?" I ask both of them.

"Not really, I mean, it's not the first time police have broken off our parties in Italy." Isabella answers.

"It was the first time they took me to the station after they found drugs in my possession." Matteo idly says, head tilted towards his phone but still looking at me.

"And what did they do to you?"

He shrugs, as if he were talking about a trip to the principal's office. "Nothing."

I look at him, trying to read his face, but it looks like he's trying to do the same thing to me. Either he's waiting for a reaction or wondering what I'm going to say next.

"Hm. It means you're one of the lucky ones then."

Come back to this around round 4/5 after mexican hitmen try to kill Matteo's father - backstory with Matteo's real mother etc.