I have to get ready quickly, as my mom says. Please, Mom, I don’t want to wear a gown just so you can parade me around like I’m some trophy housewife, ready to breed. Instead, I get ready in a beautiful black vintage Versace dress, my hair done up, and no makeup—just skincare. I hate wearing makeup; it’s not my style, even though I probably should. 

“We're leaving—come with your brother,” my mom calls.

"Yes, Mama," I tell my mom.

I grab my purse and get ready to leave. Wearing my heels, I walk down the stairs.

There stood my brother, Mikeal dressed like a gentleman in Armani. He caught my hand and helped me down.

"What are you wearing?" he asked.

Smirking, I replied, "Versace."

"Dad won't like it. It's showing all kinds of body," he said.

Well, I didn’t mention it, did I? My dress has a deep neckline—and the one thing my father hates is women from respectable families dressing up like a whore.

"I'm not driving you back to the house so you can change," he replied.

"Who said I'm changing?" I shot back.

We left the house and got into our car, with one security car in front and one behind.

"So, you didn’t bring a date?" I asked.

"Nope. Dad said whores aren’t allowed as dates," he said, smirking.

"Ouch. And how did Crystal take it?"

"Well, who cares. Anyway, ready to get married?"

"You ain't getting rid of me anytime soon," I teased.

"Anyway, how’s business going?" I asked.

"You know Father doesn’t like women in his business," he said.

"Who cares what he thinks? I helped you hack into the Silicans to find out when they were stealing our arms so you could take care of them, didn’t I?" I reminded him.

Finally, we reached the mansion.

Today is the birthday of the boss of the Frenchs, so everyone from the mafia is here.

We walked over to our parents, who were talking with the Silicans.

"Father," Mikeal said.

"Son," my father replied, turning around. His eyes raked over me entirely before he said, "Wow, you look gorgeous," though there was clear anger in his voice.

You think I’m scared? Nope. I’ve dealt with him too many times for this to bother me.

Today, I plan to get drunk and create a scandal—probably with the daughter of the French Don, my dear best friend.

You see, when you grow up in this world, you can't really be friends with outsiders.

With John being my bodyguard, the only person who’s around me more is my best friend.

"Thank you, Father," I said. I couldn’t disrespect him in front of the stupid bastards from the Silicans.

Keeping a polite smile on my face, I greeted the Silicans and said,

"I’m so sorry. I heard your cousin died in the warehouse that day. How did he die? May his soul rest in peace."

Who the hell cares about that prick? He was a selfish pervert anyway. But I’m a lady—and a lady pretends to care.

"May his soul rest," one of them said stiffly, before adding, "But don’t you think it’s inappropriate for a lady to talk about business?"

"Sorry, Alex," I said sweetly, "didn’t mean to hurt your ego, that’s all."

“Ashlyn, why don’t we go and meet the French to wish them?" Mikeal said, prying me away from the Silicans, with our parents following close behind.

We made our way to the Frenchs, who were, of course, the center of attention.

We gave the Don our wishes, and my best friend hugged me tightly.

"Heyyy!" Marie said, grinning.

"You’re acting like we didn’t just meet yesterday," I teased.

"Oh please," she laughed. "As if you didn’t call me this morning."

We slipped away from the crowd, finally getting a moment to breathe.

"Well, did you find anyone hot?" Marie teased, nudging me.

I snorted. "Hot? Here? Please. You know the type of man I like. And these boys? They're not even in the same galaxy."

"Yeah, because the man you want doesn’t exist in this godforsaken world," she laughed.

"Oh, really?" I said, flipping my hair dramatically. "Then I guess I'll stay lonely and fabulous."

We strutted over to the bar, ordered two glasses of wine, and leaned in like we owned the place.

I barely had the glass to my lips when some absolute moron slammed into me, spilling the wine straight down my gorgeous black Versace.

My. Versace.

He. Did. NOT.

I spun around so fast I almost gave myself whiplash.

"Are you blind or just born without a brain?" I snapped, voice sharp enough to cut glass.

I gestured wildly at my now-ruined dress. "Do you even KNOW what you just did? This isn’t some cheap crap off a clearance rack—this is VERSACE, you imbecile!"

"Мудак (asshole)!" I hissed under my breath, furious.

The guy barely blinked.

"Porca miseria(fucksake), will you calm down? I'll pay whatever it's worth. Stop shouting," he said in a low, deep voice—

—and then had the audacity to walk away like nothing happened.

He walked away.

Oh hell no.

"EXCUSE ME?" I yelled after him, my heels already clicking dangerously on the floor.

"Who do you think you are—Brad Pitt mixed with a clown?! Come back here, you oversized ego in designer shoes!"

"Stop shouting, Ashley." 

"Why?" 

"Because everyone's staring at us." 

"Oh, who cares." 

"Let's go to the washroom and clean it up." 

"Okay, fine." 

We went in, and I started cleaning it. 

"Do you want to know who crashed into you?" 

"Who?"

“Luca Romano,” said Marie.

"Who?"

"Do you not remember Luca Romano? The new capo of the Italian mafia."

"Oh, shitzz..."

"Him? I thought he died!"

"So did everyone, but he didn’t. He's called the Devil."

After cleaning myself up, I stepped out of the washroom and saw Mikeal waiting for me there. 

"Father has asked us to leave," he said. 

"But the party just started!" 

"No, it ended when you created a scene in front of the capo." 

"It was his fault!" 

"Well, Father doesn’t think so. We need to leave. Say your goodbyes," he said, looking at Marie. 

"Fine." 

"Bye, honey. Don’t worry about me," I  replied.

"Bye, Ashley. Take care and call me," Marie said.