The afternoon sun cast an indulgent glow on the sprawling Rizzo gardens as I wandered beneath the manicured trees. The air buzzed with activity – staff members scurried about, transforming the already opulent space into a birthday wonderland of twinkling lights and extravagant floral arrangements. Another sigh escaped my lips, a wisp of frustration mingling with the sweet scent of roses. Still no message from Simone.
Shoving my phone deeper into my pocket, I tried to focus on the scene around me. My Papa remained cloistered in his study, his obligatory birthday card delivered by a silent servant the only sign of acknowledgment I'd received. A flicker of rebellion sparked within me. Was I a birthday afterthought, lost amidst the machinations of his business?
A sudden smile bloomed on my face as I spotted a familiar sight. My brothers, Luca and Marco, stood chatting near the fountain, their broad frames and easy camaraderie a welcome contrast to the suffocating formality of the day. With a surge of affection, I raced towards them, the years melting away as we collided in a warm embrace.
"Raelynn!" Luca boomed, burying me in a bear hug. "Happy birthday, little sis!"
"Happy birthday, sunshine!" Marco echoed, his voice softer but no less genuine.
These stolen moments with my brothers were precious. Since joining the 'family business,' as Mama vaguely described it, they were rarely home. Despite the lingering mystery surrounding their work, I cherished their presence, a comforting reminder of a simpler time.
Pulling back from the embrace, I cast a curious glance at them. "What are you two up to? I haven't seen you around much lately."
Luca winked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just some… family matters to attend to," he said vaguely. "But don't you worry your pretty head about it, little sis. That's what big brothers are for."
Marco nudged him playfully. "Yeah, let the little princess enjoy her birthday party." He winked at me, his smile tinged with an unspoken understanding.
"Birthday party?" I echoed, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "More like a social gathering for Papa's business associates."
"Well, make the most of it, Raelynn," Luca said gently.
Marco and Luca exchanged another enigmatic smile before clapping me on the shoulders, their touches a silent reassurance amidst the growing storm of confusion. With a final wink, they both disappeared into the cool, shadowed interior of the mansion, presumably on their way to face Papa.
My gaze drifted towards the driveway as a sleek, cherry-red sports car screeched to a halt, nearly clipping my parked Audi. A figure emerged – tlclad in a designer suit that screamed more "Miami club owner" than "sophisticated gentleman."
Mark.
He sauntered towards me with a wide grin, a gaudily wrapped package clutched in his hand. A groan escaped my lips, barely audible even to myself.
"For you, birthday girl!" he announced, thrusting the package forward.
I eyed it warily before taking it with a forced smile. "Thanks, Mark. But, uh, wasn't the plan to arrive with everyone else this evening?"
Mark shrugged, his eyes sparkling with something akin to mischief. "Couldn't wait to see you, beautiful. Besides, I had a feeling you might need a little… pick-me-up before the party."
He leaned in, his breath carrying the faint scent of beer. My body tensed instinctively. Physical contact with Mark had always felt…wrong.
Just as his lips brushed mine, I deftly sidestepped him, placing a hand on his chest to create a barrier. "Thanks, Mark, but that's not necessary."
A flicker of irritation crossed his features, quickly masked by a practiced charm. "Suit yourself," he mumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
Mark's gaze lingered on me a beat too long, a predatory glint in his eyes that sent a wave of revulsion washing over me.
"So," he drawled, his voice dripping with insinuation, "how about we head to your room and celebrate... properly?"
The implication was clear. Mark was hoping to turn my birthday into a private party of his own making.
The very thought made my skin crawl. Losing my virginity to Mark was a prospect I found utterly repulsive. No, that special moment, that intimate act of vulnerability and connection, I envisioned with someone else entirely – with Simone.
Tonight, after the charade of the party was over, after the last champagne flute was emptied and the guests had trickled out, I planned to escape. To steal away under the cloak of darkness and find Simone, to confess my feelings and explore the exhilarating unknown with him, the man who held my heart captive.
Taking a deep breath, I forced a smile that wouldn't have fooled a toddler. "Thanks for the offer, Mark, but I think I'll stick to taking a walk."
His smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. He recovered quickly, though, reverting to his usual charming facade. "Alright," he mumbled.
A flicker of defiance sparked within me. Perhaps, one day soon, I wouldn't have to hide Simone away, wouldn't have to endure these constant nudges towards Mark. Maybe, just maybe, I could find the courage to introduce him to my family, to rewrite the narrative they'd so meticulously crafted for my life.
With Mark by my side, a constant reminder of everything I didn't want, I entered the cool embrace of the mansion. The air buzzed with manic activity as staff scurried to complete their final preparations.
Just then, Mama's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, beckoning me towards the foyer.
"Raelynn, cara mia," she called, her voice laced with an undercurrent of excitement. "Vieni vedere!" Come see!
I followed her voice, curiosity tugging at me. In the foyer stood Mama, her face beaming, and beside her, a woman I presumed to be the seamstress. The woman held a garment bag, its contents hidden from view.
"There you are, tesoro," sweetheart, Mama cooed, enveloping me in a suffocating hug. "The dress is finally here!"
With a flourish, the seamstress unveiled the dress. My smile faltered, replaced by a grimace I couldn't quite control.
Yellow. A vibrant, sunshine yellow that seemed to scream for attention. Yellow, a color Mama insisted perfectly complemented my blonde hair, a color I loathed. Not all blondes liked yellow.
"Isn't it gorgeous, Raelynn?" Mama gushed, oblivious to my dismay. "It will make you look like a ray of sunshine!"
Sunshine. Perhaps. But right now, I felt more like a storm cloud, a tempest brewing beneath the surface.
Taking a deep breath, I plastered a smile on my face – a performance perfected over years of stifled emotions. "It's… lovely, Mama," I managed, my voice devoid of enthusiasm.
Mama's grin widened at my forced praise. "I know, cara mia," she chirped, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "I have a fantastic eye for fashion."
The seamstress shifted awkwardly in the background, the yellow monstrosity draped over her arm like a giant canary. Mama, oblivious to my growing discomfort, ran her hands over the fabric, her touch seemingly reverent.
"This dress," she declared, her voice thick with pride, "is a testament to my impeccable taste."
Finally, unable to bear it any longer, I mumbled an excuse. "I think I'll take this and hang it up in my room."
My hand reached out to take the garment bag, but Mama swatted it away with a gasp. "No, no, Raelynn! You'll wrinkle the delicate fabric!"
Her eyes, however, remained glued to the dress, a possessive glint flickering within them.
Just then, Mama seemed to remember Mark's presence. "Oh, Mark, I didn't see you there! Please, do excuse my rudeness."
Mark chuckled, all charm. "No worries at all, Mrs. Rizzo. It's perfectly understandable."
Mama turned back to me, her smile taking on a steely edge. "Raelynn, why don't you entertain Mark for a while? I need to discuss a few… details with the seamstress."
I frowned, the pressure building within me threatening to erupt. "But Mama—"
"No buts, cara mia," Mama interrupted, her voice leaving no room for argument. Clasping my hand in a vice-like grip, she added, feigning forgetfulness, "Oh, and don't forget, the hairstylist is already waiting. We can't have you looking anything less than perfect for your big night, can we?"
My brothers had mentioned it before, how birthdays were a non-entity in the Rizzo household before my arrival. Apparently, I was the one who brought "joy" – or perhaps more accurately, the expectation of joy. And joy, it seemed, manifested in elaborate yellow dresses and perfectly styled hair. The men, of course, were above such frivolous pursuits. Birthdays were for business, not celebrations.
A sigh escaped my lips as I turned to Mark, a silent invitation to follow me. I needed a moment to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me, and the suffocating presence of my mama was not conducive to clear thinking.
Leading Mark towards the modern, glass-walled tea room, I hoped the tranquility of the space would offer a temporary respite from the chaos engulfing the rest of the mansion.