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CARLOTTA

L eaning forward, I apply more eyeliner and smudge it beneath my lashes. It’s Thursday night which means it’s girls’ night out and, for the first time since we started the tradition, I’m not looking forward to meeting up with Alessia, Hannah, Gabriella and Blake. Even though I love them like sisters, lately it’s been a little hard for me to be around them.

I guess what it boils down to is I feel left out. And a little jealous. Okay, a lot jealous.

My older brothers and their significant others are all gloriously, sickeningly happy and head over heels in love with each other. As fabulous as that is for them, well, for me…it’s been quite lonely lately.

Whether I like it or not, I’m the last one standing. The only single sibling left and the youngest sister of the powerful Rossi family.

With a heavy sigh, I lift the mascara wand and sweep it over my long lashes, wondering why that is. Studying my reflection in the mirror with a critical eye, I wonder for the millionth time what’s wrong with me? Not to be arrogant, but I’m doing okay in the looks department. Sure, I get self-conscious sometimes like every other female out there, but I know I’m blessed with good Italian genes—long, thick dark brown hair, even darker eyes, a permanent bronze tone to my skin. And despite all the pasta I manage to eat, I’m able to keep my figure and my curves are in all the right places.

And that leads me to start questioning other things—things that aren’t very easy to fix. Do I have a bad personality? Is that why men seem to keep their distance? Do I have a resting bitch face? I don’t think so, I decide, looking at my reflection. Maybe it’s my sassy personality that scares them away. Angelo does call me a firecracker sometimes.

Lately, it seems like I’ve been questioning a lot of things, especially decisions I’ve made in the last few years. All, of course, which have led me to this point—painfully alone.

Maybe it’s because Angelo, my closest brother, just got married and he’s the one I thought I could always count on to remain single. Ang had always declared he’d be a bachelor to the day he died, swore it up and down, and I believed it. We all did. He’s far too good-looking, beyond charming and used to say serious relationships were to be avoided at all costs and just the idea of one made him break out in hives.

So much for that.

Blake, a bounty hunter, accidentally kidnapped him instead of her intended target and the rest, as they say, is history. Last week at the wedding reception, they already announced Blake is pregnant. Talk about a complete and total one-eighty.

Of course, I’m going to love being an aunt…again…and I’m genuinely happy for my brothers, their wives and their children.

I think it must be fear of missing out that has me all out of sorts lately. Either that or maybe my biological clock is ticking. I’m only twenty-five, though, I remind myself. There’s no need to be in a rush to get knocked up. I know people who didn’t start their families until they were well into their thirties, even forty nowadays.

I did always have my heart set on being a young mom, though. While I still had the energy and would be able to have my child grow up with all their cousins. Because, let’s face it, my brothers and their wives are popping out kids like they’re Pez dispensers.

Reaching for the hot curling iron, I pick up a strand of my dark chestnut hair and wind it around the wand, contemplating the root of the problem. It’s not that I’m in a hurry to get married and have kids, it’s more that I want to start experiencing life. Things like love and sex are mysteries to me.

Very tantalizing mysteries that I want to explore.

As I continue to work my way around my head, curling my normally straight hair, I inevitably think about the one man I did date seriously. Rendall Smith. God, what a jackass. An image of his stupid face pops into my head. Dirty blond hair, greenish eyes, normal height and build. Nothing like my powerhouse brothers.

Rendall was average in every way. Except, of course, when it came to the asshole scale. Then he was off the charts.

God, I still feel so stupid for spending so much time with him, for believing him, for almost giving my virginity to him. What a complete and total waste that would’ve been. Yes, I want to sleep with a man, but I want him to be a good guy. Or, at least not treat me like shit.

Growing agitated by memories of what happened, my hand slips and the hot iron burns my forehead.

“Ow! Dammit!” I cry. With a frustrated sound, I set it down on the counter with a thunk and stare hard at my reflection in the mirror again.

Maybe it is my looks. Maybe I’m not pretty enough.

God, I hate the self-doubt creeping in, but I can’t help it.

Like my brothers, I have dark hair and brown eyes. Well, except for Vin who has the most amazing shade of green eyes which can’t be missed or overlooked because they’re so stunning. To be honest, I don’t usually remember a person’s eye color. When I’m talking to someone, especially a man, I tend to look everywhere but in their eyes. For some reason, it makes me incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe because the eyes truly are the window to the soul, and I feel exposed and vulnerable.

Squinting, I try to remember what color Rendall’s eyes were—I thought greenish, but now I’m second guessing myself. Maybe they were more brown. Hazel? Or wait, no. Gray. Hmm, I’m not sure. Oh well, it doesn’t matter because he is a complete douchebag who I never want to see or run into again.

I lightly trace a finger over the red burn mark that now mars my forehead and frown. Nice. Grabbing some concealer, I lightly cover it as best as I can then check the time on my phone. I should leave in ten minutes, so I head into my bedroom to get dressed.

My apartment is small and cute and located in Greenwich Village. While my brothers live in much bigger and fancier homes, I like my cozy place. It fits me. Lately, I’ve been spending the majority of my time in the corner book nook I put together, lost in romance novels. It consists of a big, overstuffed chair near the window so there’s plenty of natural light, a floor lamp if I need it, and floor to ceiling shelves that I had Vin help me install. I love reading, and I spent days organizing my paperback collection by series and by authors. Lately, it’s the one thing that gives me absolute joy—curling up in my teal chair, sipping flavored coffee from my favorite mug and reading about falling in love.

Because I figure it’s that or nothing. What can I say? It’s a sad state of affairs.

I think part of the reason I feel lost is because I’m not exactly sure what I should be doing with my life. My parents live in Sicily on a vineyard and our family owns a successful wine company, Rossi Vineyard, and Vincentius runs the day to day operations. Miceli, my oldest brother, handles the mafia side of things and has his fingers in everything. He’s practically the Don of New York City and runs everything. Nothing gets past him. And Enzo is a genius when it comes to stocks and investments. That man makes so much money, he could probably buy this entire city and everyone in it.

Angelo has always been more like me. Not quite sure of his purpose, but now that he’s found Blake, he seems so happy, so utterly content.

But me… I’ve been struggling lately trying to figure out where I belong and I’m just not sure. I’m much more creative than my business-minded brothers, but when I think about a career and what I want to do for the next thirty or forty years, I come up blank.

It’s a good thing money isn’t an issue or I’d be back home living with my parents in Sicily. But since they’ve made my brothers and I all shareholders in the company, money gets deposited into all of our accounts every quarter. The wine makes a fortune and then I let Enzo play with it and he makes me more money.

So money isn’t an issue. But love and finding something I’m good at seems to be my biggest problem. More than anything, I would love to find my person and find my place. As corny as it sounds, I feel like I’m not fulfilling my destiny, that I’m not doing whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing.

I just wish I knew what that was exactly.

After slipping on a little black dress and heels, I grab my purse and head out. It’s good for me to get out of the house and I do enjoy chatting with my sisters-in-law. Maybe they can help me figure my life out. Because right now, I feel lost. More lost and confused and lonely than I ever have before.

Raising a hand, I flag down a yellow taxicab and hop inside. I tell him the name of the cute little restaurant where we’re meeting and settle back in the seat and scroll through my phone. Traffic is always a nightmare at this time of night, so I get comfortable and settle in. Luckily, the place we’re meeting isn’t too far away and, once we arrive, I pay the fare and hop out. Even though everyone is always Ubering nowadays, I still like my crusty, old school NYC cabs. Guess I’m classic like that.

My heels click against the polished wooden floor as I walk into the trendy restaurant and see my girls already gathered at a corner table. I wave and make my way over to the very fertile group of women. Alessia and Miceli are awaiting baby number two already and she looks ready to pop. Hannah and Gabriella gave birth not long ago and are still nursing their new little bundles of joy. And Blake looks slim as ever, but she’s a couple of months along. My brothers are ridiculously virile. It’s not something I like to think about too hard, so I push it out of my mind fast before I accidentally envision something that I don’t want to ever picture.

“Hello, beautiful mamas,” I say in greeting and sit down. I immediately flag a waiter over, needing some alcohol in my system. “Can I get a cosmo?”

He nods and walks off.

“Not a mama yet,” Blake states, sliding a hand over her flat stomach.

“It’ll be here before you know it,” Gabriella tells her with a knowing smile.

“How was the honeymoon?” I ask Blake. She and Ang just got back not long ago. After getting married, he flew them up to Maine in his helicopter where they stayed in a little, cozy cabin. My brother likes to show off his piloting skills, but he’s damn good. I think he missed his calling as a Navy pilot.

“Amazing,” she answers dreamily. “Going back to where we fell in love was really special.”

“Aww, we’re so happy for you,” Alessia says, and everyone nods.

A minute later, the conversation inevitably turns to babies and motherhood. They’re all new moms and I understand they’re learning a lot from each other, but I immediately feel left out. So I just smile and nod and down my drink then quickly order another one.

I don’t have much to contribute to the conversation and, eventually, I’m staring off into space, wondering if I’ll ever be able to join in and offer some useful or valid piece of advice about being married or having kids. After a while, Blake and Gabriella seem to pick up on my silence.

“Okay, enough about babies,” Gabriella states, and I send her a grateful look. “Just so you know, Carlotta, as the only single woman at this table, we’re all a little jealous.”

“Jealous?” I echo in disbelief. “Of what?”

“Your freedom, for one,” Blake says.

“Having the world at your feet,” Alessia says.

“And being able to go off and do whatever you want, whenever you want,” Hannah adds.

“I don’t feel very lucky,” I say a little glumly, but I suppose they have a point. “In fact, if I’m being honest, I’m a little envious of you guys. Okay, more than a little.”

There’s such a wistfulness in my voice and I can’t even try to hide it.

“You’re so crazy happy,” I continue, “and, don’t get me wrong, I’m so very happy for you. I just…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Lately, I’ve just been a little…”

My voice trails off and they’re all listening with rapt attention.

“A little what?” Alessia asks gently.

“Lonely,” I admit in a quiet voice. Then I quickly add, “But I know it’s my fault. I don’t go out as much as I should and I have a hard time trusting men.”

“I was the same way,” Blake says. “It’s a miracle Angelo and I ever met. My entire life had been work and I never went out. Not socially, anyway. Just to hunt down bad guys.”

I smirk, imagining Blake as a bounty hunter in her former life. Now that she’s married and expecting, she doesn’t run around and capture dangerous people any longer. Mostly because Angelo would have a heart attack.

“So let’s change that,” Hannah says easily, a glimmer in her eyes. “Girls, I think we should help Carlotta find a good man.”

“Do any exist?” I can’t help but ask.

“Yes,” Alessia answers without hesitation. “Your brothers.”

“Well, I can’t date my brothers nor would I want to—no offense—so where are the rest of the good men?” I wonder aloud. Because I sure as hell can’t find any.

“Out there, somewhere,” Hannah says, which is completely unhelpful. “And we’re going to help you find one.”

“Thanks, and not to burst your bubble, but the situation looks pretty grim, ladies.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Gabriella scoffs, waving her hand through the air. “You’re still a baby. You have plenty of time. Something or someone definitely made you a little jaded, though.”

Gabriella definitely doesn’t miss a thing. Although being a business woman and being married to Enzo, I can understand how she’d always be on her toes. She is extremely perceptive, quite intuitive and wise beyond her years.

“Yeah, his name was Rendall and in a matter of three months, he managed to shatter my self-esteem and trust in the opposite sex. Now I’m scared I’ll never be good enough for anyone or be able to trust a man again.”

“Oh, sweetie, not all men are like that. The best ones will love and protect you. Always,” Alessia tells me, and the other women nod.

“That’s right,” Hannah agrees. “Vin saved me when I needed someone the most.”

Vincentius had stepped in and rescued Hannah when she’d been forced to participate in an underground auction. He’d outbid everyone else, swooped in and carried Hannah out of that nightmare. Literally, in his arms, he’d marched up to the stage, lifted her up and carried her away.

“You can’t give up on love.” Alessia reaches over and lays a hand on my arm. “We’ll help you, won’t we, ladies?”

They all nod.

“I have an idea,” Gabriella declares, the corner of her mouth lifting. “The masquerade!”

“What about it?” I ask, not catching on.

There’s a masquerade party benefit happening this weekend, but I wasn’t planning on going. I don’t have a costume or a date, and it all seems like way too much effort.

“Yes!” Alessia grins, nodding. “You have to come, Carlotta.”

I start to shake my head, but then realize that maybe they’re right. I keep saying I need to get out more and this would definitely check that box. The masquerade is a big event and it will draw a big crowd. Maybe a handsome, single stranger? I guess I can hope. Above all, though, it’s an important charity event and showing support would be a good thing to do.

Still though, I am not entirely convinced. Plus, I’m still feeling down and not good enough or confident enough to snag a man’s attention. My flirting has gotten rusty.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I tell them. It’s a lame excuse, I know.

“We can help,” Hannah declares without hesitation, and the girls nod in agreement.

After briefly hesitating, I slowly nod. “Why the hell not?” I say, and they all squeal.

The truth is, I’m a romantic at heart, so I’ll give it a try. Maybe, if fate is smiling down on me, I’ll meet someone and kickstart my love life.

I won’t hold my breath, though.