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ALESSIA

T onight is movie night, hosted over at Valentina and Emiliano’s penthouse. Pushing back a stray hair out of my face, I press the button to Eli’s penthouse and wait until they let me up; he may be my cousin, but he doesn’t trust anyone. The hot summer days are cooler during the night, but New York in July isn’t something to laugh at. The fabric of my green T-shirt is sticking to my back.

Val’s voice comes over the intercom and the small red dot near the camera makes it obvious that she can see me; it’s a new installation that Emiliano had done after getting Valentina back from her family. “Allie! You’re the first to arrive for movie night. Come on up.”

Once she presses a button on her end, the elevator starts to go up. I hold the small apple pie pan close to my chest My curtain bangs stick to my forehead, and I fight the urge to push them away. The elevator finally stops, and the doors slide open, revealing the open floor plan of Eli and Val’s penthouse. As I step inside, the city stretches out before me through towering floor-to-ceiling windows, a glittering expanse of lights that always manages to make my breath catch. The room is a sanctuary of warmth and elegance, bathed in a soft, golden glow that contrasts beautifully with the cool night outside. The warm smell of cinnamon rolls wafts through the open space, and Val greets me with a hug.

I let out a light laugh into her soft dark waves. “Hello to you, too.”

She pulls back and gives me a sheepish grin before saying, “Sorry, I’ve just missed you so much. You’ve been crazy busy taking over the new role at the hospital.” We make our way into the kitchen, and I put the pie down on the counter.

“I know, I wish I wasn’t that busy. But work over at the hospital never stops. Enough about me, how have you and Eli been?” I ask her.

“We’ve been good. Emiliano has been extra busy the past couple of weeks,” she says as she moves around the kitchen trying to have everything ready before everyone else arrives. I pull my red curls up into a ponytail, grab the bag of gummies, and empty them into a small ceramic bowl before placing it on the turning tray. Valentina grabs the other plates, one of some bagel bites, another has some pretzels and cucumbers with a side of hummus, and she places a small plate of cheese, grapes, and crackers down as well. The soft notes of Bach’s “Air on the G String" float across the entire apartment. Val and I look at each other before giggling.

“Does he always play that?” I ask as we move into the living room. I place the turning tray on the coffee table.

“What? Classical music?” she asks, and I nod as I sink into the plush sofa, feeling the luxurious fabric beneath my fingers. Glancing around, I take in the perfectly arranged details—the carefully placed books and the inviting lounge chair by the window. Val continues, “Yes, he’s very much a pretentious asshole—regardless of who’s here and who’s not.” Eli suddenly comes from behind Val and wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her into him.

Kissing the top of her head, he mutters, “I may be a pretentious asshole, but I’m your pretentious asshole.”

The soft platinum rings twinkle in the soft light of their penthouse, and as Eli hands Val and me each a flute of red wine, I ask, “Have you guys set a date for the wedding?”

Eli’s the one to answer me. “Not exactly, you know how this one can be so indecisive, but we’re thinking November.” Taking a sip of the deep, dark wine, I notice notes of blackcurrant and blackberry, unfolding like a dark whisper on my tongue. There's a velvety smoothness to it, with a hint of vanilla and oak that lingers even after I’ve swallowed.

“November? Wouldn’t it be too chilly by then?” Val shrugs at my question, but before either of them can answer, the elevator doors slide open, and in walks Romiro. He’s in gray sweats, his wet blond curls sticking to his forehead. His sleeve of tattoos are on full display. Eli walks over to him, and they whisper under their breaths about something.

Valentina looks at me, a brow raised as if to ask what they’re talking about. I shrug and take another sip of my wine. She does the same before setting her glass on the coffee table and making her way toward Romiro. “Hi, how are you Rom?” she asks him as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into a bear hug. I hide my smile behind my glass of wine. I still can’t believe how fast we’ve all become close with Val. The past year and a half has been hell for all of us. With the death of my uncle, Alberto, and Emiliano taking Valentina captive, I didn’t think we’d ever be the way we used to be. I guess I was right in a way; we never truly recovered, but somehow, we became a collection of broken pieces glued together, holding each other close.

I grab the TV remote, switching the device on and flipping through shows and movies until I see Lucifer . Romiro plops down next to me as I linger on the series, and he reaches for the remote out of my hand, but I slap him away.

“Ouch. Hello to you too, Allie.”

“Hello, Romiro.” I keep it short, my eyes drifting to Valentina to see what she thinks. “Wanna watch Lucifer tonight?”

She raises a singular brow. “I wish, but Mariana is coming over tonight as well. The name alone would give her a heart attack.”

I snort, “Never mind the name.” Val’s face breaks out into a wide grin, and she wiggles her brows at me. I shake my head at her, and we exchange a few more looks before Romiro butts in.

“The fuck? Are you two fucking telepathic or somethin’?”

I’m about to answer when Valentina replies, “Yes, Romiro. We’re discussing Lucifer’s smoking-hot abs.”

Of course, in true Romiro style, he says his next words with a slight smirk. “You know I have even sexier abs, right?” Both Val and I snort and shake our heads.

“Stop talking about your abs, Romiro, nobody cares,” Eli says as he pours some of The Macallan Fine he’s been busy in Italy, you know, business and shit. But he’s alive, last I checked.” We fall into a familiar,comfortable silence as we wait for everyone else to arrive. Both Eli and Val are in the kitchen, probably preparing more snacks before everyone else gets here. But now that I think about it, as I hear Valentina giggle, I doubt that’s what they’re really doing.

Just as I’m about to ask Val where everyone is, the elevator doors slide open again, and Lucio walks in. Lucio is much like his older brother Emiliano—at least in appearance. He has wavy black hair, which he keeps short, tattoos on his neck, a full sleeve on his left arm, and the words fuck boy tattooed on his knuckles. Piercing blue eyes complete his look that tends to scream pure chaos. “What’s up, mother fuckers?” Lucio shouts, as his younger sister, Mara, stands behind him, shaking her head at his words. They both step in, and Eli comes out of the kitchen, his eyes narrowed at his younger brother.

“Stop being a fucking idiot Lucio. Where’s Ma and Matteo?” he asks.

“They’re downstairs. Ma brought some of her Rhubarb Spritz, and Matteo’s helping her carry the cooler inside,” Mara says as she walks farther into the penthouse. Valentina comes out of the kitchen and hugs Mara, and they exchange a few words before Val goes back into the kitchen. The sound of something popping fills the air, followed by the smell of popcorn.

“Hi, Allie. Romiro. How are you guys?” Mara asks as she settles on the small beanbag sitting at the end of the L-shaped couch.

“Good, thanks, Mara. What about you? How’s college been?” I ask her.

She shrugs and replies, “Good, I guess.” Lucio doesn’t greet anyone; he’s busy staring at his phone screen as he sits on the hardwood floor, his back to the couch.

Soon enough, the elevator doors slide open, revealing Aunt Mariana and Matteo, who’s Mara’s twin brother. Matteo and Mara may look alike, with light-colored hair and blue eyes, but that’s as far as their similarities go. They’re polar opposites. I get up to greet Aunt Mariana, and she pulls me into a hug, pecking both my cheeks. “Aunt Mari, how have you been?” I ask her.

She pulls back and gives me a broad smile. “I’ve been good, thank you for asking, Alessia. How has your residency been?” I’ve recently begun my residency as an A he’s still grieving the death of his wife, and his usually well-kept hair is a mess, his tie loose, and he looks like he’s barely standing on his own two feet. Both Mariana and Valentina walk out of the kitchen.

Emiliano is frowning at Dom, his lips twisting into a snarl before he asks, “Have you been fucking drinking? Again .”

Dom’s unfocused gaze settles on Eli before saying, “Fucking mind your business. Cugino .”

“I’m not just your fucking cugino, asshole. I’m your Capo. And I fucking told you to stop drinking. Your liver is begging you to quit.”

“Mind. Your. Fucking. Business. I don’t give a shit what you told me. I’m of legal drinking age.” Dominico’s words are slightly slurred as Eli grabs him by his collar and pulls him close.

“Listen. And listen very carefully. When I fucking tell you to stop drinking, you fucking listen . I’m your Capo—your boss. I’m the fucking law, and what I say will be obeyed.”

Dominico yanks Emiliano’s hands off him and shouts, “You can come fucking preach to me about not drinking when you lose your wife and aren’t able to see her before she’s buried. How about that? I didn’t even get to fucking bury my damn wife! So lay off your power tripping bullshit and let me deal with my own fucking liver. Asshole.”

Aunt Mariana holds Emiliano’s elbow and whispers something in his ear. He doesn’t answer and instead stalks back into the kitchen, jaw clenched.

“Why don’t you come in and make yourself comfortable, Dom?” Val suggests, pulling Dom by the sleeve of his suit jacket and trying to diffuse the situation. He begrudgingly lets her guide him, his face not once changing. We all settle back into our previous positions, but Dom goes into the kitchen and comes back out with a glass of what I would assume to be black coffee—the way he prefers to take it—before taking a seat in the far corner, away from the rest of us.

“Have you decided on a movie yet?” Mara asks me.

Shaking my head I say, “No, not yet, so any suggestions are welcome.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but Lucio beats her to it. “Don’t let her pick anything, she’ll make us watch a gruesome horror film.” Mara shoots a scathing glare his way before a sly smile appears on her face. “Not a word out of you, sister ,” he warns, and she shoots him a glare.

“It’s not my fault you got so scared the other night that you had to sleep with the lights on.” I hide my smile behind my glass of wine. Lucio used to be scared of the dark when we were younger, but it seems he hasn’t outgrown the fear.

Val comes back in and places four bowls of popcorn, and Lucio lunges forward and grabs a bowl, quickly shoving a bunch into his mouth. “Horror movies are shit and use CGI to make people scared; you can’t convince me otherwise,” Lucio says to Mara, throwing a kernel of popcorn after each word.

Mara picks up a handful of kernels and says, “Fuck off, Lucio,” before throwing them back at him.

Aunt Mariana walks in with two jugs of the Rhubarb Spritz, and once she spots those two pulling that shit at their age, she says, “Quit it, the both of you.” Mara scowls and she’s about to argue, but when Aunt Mari narrows her eyes at both of them, Mara just rolls her lips together. After careful deliberation, I settle on the movie, Father of the Bride .

“We’re watching Father of the Bride ,” I tell everyone, and as the lights dim, everyone settles into their usual spots. Eli pulls Val into his lap in the large armchair in the corner. Lucio and Mara continue their bickering—in whispers—earning them a glare from Aunt Mariana every time they raise their voices. The only person who doesn’t join us is Dom; he stays seated far away, nursing his Negroni.