Gilded Princess: A Dark Mafia Romance (Five Families Book 1) Read online

  Gilded Princess

  A Five Families Novel

  Penelope Black

  Copyright © 2021 by Penelope Black

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products references in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publications/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  for my grandma + grandpa

  who were unfazed by the spice and read every single book—several times.

  this one is for you.

  Contents

  Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  A Note to Readers

  Acknowledgments

  Playlist

  “Goodbye” by Apparat, Soap&Skin

  “False God” by Taylor Swift

  “Drunk In Love” by Beyonce

  “Feel So Close” by Calvin Harris

  “Don’t Let Me Down” by The Chainsmokers and Daya

  “Space Ghost Coast to Coast” by Glass Animals

  “Hallelujah” by Jeff Buckley

  “No Light, No Light” Florence + The Machine

  “Shake it Off” by Taylor Swift

  “Wasting My Young Years” by London Grammar

  “Top to Toe” by Fenne Lily

  “Don’t Forget About Me” by CLOVES

  “Cradles” by Sub Urban

  “Smother” by Daughter

  Prologue

  MATTEO

  Sweat clings to the back of my neck and underneath my arms, but I don’t move to wipe it off. I’d rather suffer the persistent itch than incur the wrath of my father.

  He’s on a warpath tonight.

  Earlier at dinner, he told me to lay out my Sunday best and be ready at midnight. It was time for me to step into my role as a member of our family. Ma started crying, and then Dad got mad, and they started arguing—per usual.

  I don’t understand why she’s so upset. I’m old enough to help out the family now, and it’ll be good for me to learn how to do more stuff and make Ma’s life easier.

  Plus, the more focus I keep on me, the less time my father has to terrorize anyone else.

  So here I am, baking in my black suit I wear to church on Sundays in my father’s office. The air feels heavy this time of year, but my father’s office doesn’t have any windows to open. It’s all dark wood and dark rugs. It’s all dark wood and dark rugs. Intimidating and lightless, just like him.

  My uncle Abram and my cousin Nico sit in the chairs across from my dad, who’s reclined behind his massive oak desk. He’s smoking a cigar and staring at the two men in front of him, his posture deceptively calm. His shoulders are loose, and he’s casually puffing on his cigar.

  It’s a demeanor I’ve seen all too often.

  Tension simmers in the air, so thick I can almost see it. Dad asked me to stand behind him to the right and stay against the wall, no matter what. I’m not entirely sure what will happen tonight, but I can’t imagine it’s anything good.

  Uncle Abram adjusts his tie and cranes his neck to the side to release the tension as the silence continues.

  Without a word, Dad slides open his top desk drawer and pulls out a gun.

  “Half-assed murder plots are for boys. In this family, you act like a man. So, let this be a lesson to you, son. If you want to be the king, you have to kill the king.”

  My eyes widen as I glance between the gun my father placed on the desk and my cousin. He’s eight years older than me, so we didn’t exactly grow up together, but I always looked up to him. My palms feel clammy, and I stifle the urge to wipe them off on my pants. I know he hates it when I fidget.

  “Do you understand why this is necessary?” Dad looks over his shoulder at me, waiting for my answer.

  I nod, even though I don’t understand. The memory of Dad making me watch The Godfather years ago flashes before my eyes. He told me this is what I should expect from our family, and at the time, I thought he was being sarcastic.

  I was wrong.

  He turns toward Uncle Abram. “The choice is yours, brother. Either you or him.”

  If he’s surprised, Uncle Abram doesn’t show it. He stares back at Dad, unflinching. “You know my choice, Angelo.” He turns toward Nico. “I love you, son. No matter what.”

  Dad nods twice before he picks up the gun and points it at Uncle Abram. He fires two shots. Uncle Abram’s body jerks violently, tipping over the chair.

  I jump with each crack of the gun, unable to stifle my shock.

  He shifts his hold to point it at Nico. His eyes look like saucers, bloodshot and wide.

  “Uncle Angelo, please. D-d-don’t do this. My dad—”

  A gunshot splits the air.

  Nico’s eyes shine with tears, disbelief slackening his jaw. He pushes a hand to his chest, and bright red blood oozes out between his fingers.

  Another shot lands in between his eyes, Nico’s head jerking back in a swift, violent motion.

  “I don’t give second chances.” His words are slow and contemplative like he’s wondering if there’s rain in the forecast today.

  I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, desperate to keep my fear inside. Anything to keep my dad’s focus off of me.

  It’s selfish. A coward’s move. But at twelve, I know I can’t win against him.

  Not yet.

  Chapter One

  MADDIE

  “I can’t believe you’re ditching me again, Mary. You agreed to go with me.”

  I shouldn’t be surprised that my sister, who prefers books to humans, is abandoning me during event season, but I am.

  She sighs, the noise loud in my ear as I squeeze the phone in my hand and press it against my face to hear her over the busy streets of New York City. “Don’t be so dramatic, Maddie. You’ll be fine. I don’t even know why you asked me. You know I hate those things. Besides, they only ever invite me because of you anyway.”

  Now it’s my turn to sigh. I shove my irritation down to the bottom of my stomach and exhale a calming breath. “You know that’s not true. Clara Vanderbilt and Isobel Chambers specifically invited you to the masquerade ball.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not going. Why don’t you ask Lainey like you usually do?”
r />   The scorn in her voice has me fumbling over my thoughts for a moment. I shove the concerning reason behind my cousin Lainey’s impromptu cabin visit down deep and bury it alongside all the other things Mom said are wrinkle-inducing. It’s easier for me to ignore it now that we don’t have honest-to-god bodyguards following us around anymore. It only lasted for a few days, and I know it was more for Lainey’s peace of mind than anything, but it was strange.

  My cousin Lainey is more like a sister than an extended family member. Sometimes she’s closer to me than my actual sister. I like to think of her as the perfect balance between me and my twin, Mary.

  Lainey’s mom, Lana, and my mom are twins too—apparently it runs in the family. But outside of their looks, they’re not that similar. It’s kind of how I feel about Mary and me. Even though we’re fraternal twins, when we were younger, we’d dress alike and it was hard to tell us apart.

  These days, Mary and I couldn’t be more different.

  Where I wear my dark-red hair long and in waves, she cut hers short into a long bob and religiously straightens it. Mascara and lip gloss are about all she wears—not that she needs makeup. She’s gorgeous, and sometimes, I think she’s the only one who doesn’t realize it.

  You’re more likely to find her in cardigans and sneakers than dressed up in a gown fit for a ball. I don’t know why I’m surprised that she’s backing out of this event.

  I clear my throat to get myself back into the conversation, looking both ways before I cross the street. “You know why. Lainey’s recovering—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tucked away at some cabin with a bunch of dudes, I know. I guess she should think about the company she keeps, huh? Maybe she won’t end up in those shitty situations then.”

  I stop in the middle of the busy sidewalk, the flow of people swerving to move around me. “What the hell, Mary! I cannot believe you said that.”

  My sister scoffs. “What? It’s true. Anyway, I’m not going to your stupid gala. So I guess you should find some other friends.” She mock-gasps. “Think of what they’ll say if you go solo?”

  My jaw drops at her cruelty, and I clear my throat, swallowing down the emotion. “Wow. Are you going for a record of below-the-belt hits today, sister? Because I gotta say, you’re hitting your marks.”

  She knows damn well how I feel about stuff like that. I don’t have a problem with being alone, but who wants to go solo to those kinds of events? It’s like daring someone to jump into shark-infested waters wearing Lady Gaga’s 2010 award show dress—you know, the one made up of raw meat.

  You need a buffer to these sorts of things—a plus one.

  With a mother who offered to buy me a boob job, a nose job, and lip fillers for my twelfth birthday, is it any wonder why I have these sorts of thoughts?

  If you’re told most of your life that your only value is your appearance, after so long, you start to accept it as gospel.

  She sighs, the exhale long and somehow sounding irritated. “Whatever. Sorry. I have plans, okay?”

  My ears prick at the change in her tone. “What kind of plans?”

  “None of your business.”

  I can just picture her folding her arm tight across her chest and shifting her weight. It’s her tell when she’s hiding something.

  I gather my hair and twist it over my shoulder to let the hot summer breeze roll over my neck as the proverbial lightbulb goes off. “Oh my god. You have plans with a guy! You sneaky little—”

  “Just drop it, Maddie. It’s probably nothing, okay? And anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I pause, sorting through my initial hurt. Her unwillingness to share picks at my decades-old insecurities and wounds. I know it’s more to do with her than with me, but it still takes me a moment to wrap my mind around it.

  “You used to tell me everything, Mary,” I murmur.

  Mary huffs. “Yeah, when we were like eight. You tell Lainey everything now, so don’t act like it’s me who has changed.”

  Shock stills my tongue. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I have a feeling my sister is going through something. My heart pangs at the hurt in her voice. “I’m sorry if you’ve felt left out. You’re my sister.”

  “Yeah, okay. Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

  As soon as the last word leaves her lips, she ends the call. I pull the phone away from my ear and feel my eyebrows reach my hairline. She didn’t even give me a chance to reply before she hung up.

  The summer sun feels heavy as it beats down on my back. I love summertime. It’s the season of possibility and spontaneity. And this was supposed to be our summer. The one we’d been dreaming about for years.

  We survived high school at one of the most prestigious all-girl academies in the country, and we had three months to revel in our accomplishments until we had to buckle back down and get to work on our degrees.

  St. Rita’s All-Girl Academy is a tradition in my family. All the girls attended, and for the most part, I didn’t mind. I lived in a luxury dorm suite with my cousin and sister for years. And since we’re all attending St. Rita’s University, we’re staying in the same suite. A perk of being a legacy member, I guess.

  I tap my phone against my lips as I walk toward my favorite coffee shop. It’s not too far from our dorm suite, and they have a new iced tea flavor every week from May to September. If I wasn’t busy teaching adorable little girls ballet three days a week, I’d work here just for the free coffee perks.

  I know I can’t ask Lainey to go with me. Not only is she out of town, but she just went through some seriously scary stuff, and she needs time to rest and recharge. And honestly, I’m proverbially eating popcorn and watching her romantic entanglements play out.

  And Mary’s out, obviously.

  I guess I could go alone. Despite the masks required to enter the event, I have a good idea of who will be there. It’s generally the same group of people my age who attend every year. One of those legacy things. Lots of girls from St. Rita’s—high school and college. Plus, the school has a lot of affiliations with other private schools around the country.

  Every year, the private school board council throws a masquerade ball to raise money for a different charity. This year they’re focusing on saving the rainforests, which is something I can get behind. The music’s usually good and the food is always excellent. I could do without the monotonous small talk from random adults who don’t actually care about the answers to the questions they ask.

  Plus, there are only so many times I can binge-watch shows on Netflix.

  I roll my eyes, annoyed with myself. It’s not like I don’t have other friends, just none as close as Lainey and Mary. I suppose now is as good a time as any to strengthen new friendship bonds, though.

  With my mind made up, I quickly tap out a text to Blaire Hawthorne. If anyone knows the theme, it’s her. That girl is like a real-life Gossip Girl, but without all the secrecy—she lives for drama.

  I slide my phone into the pocket of my cream and light green linen skirt. The breathable fabric swishes against my thighs as I walk the last few feet to the cafe.

  A blast of air-conditioning greets me as I walk inside and get in line. I wave to Amanda, the barista at the counter, just as I feel my phone vibrate with an incoming text.

  Blaire: Madison, babe! I hope I see you at the Enchanted Forest masquerade tomorrow.

  Enchanted Forest. Okay, I can swing that. A flicker of excitement blooms. I do love a good theme.

  Madison: See you then!

  I pocket my phone again as the line moves forward, my mind already spinning. I’m going to have to call my favorite designer and seamstress and see what she has in stock. Dolores is in her mid-sixties, but her eye for fashion is incomparable. And luckily for me, she took a liking to me when she volunteered for our middle school theatre production. She did the costuming, and we bonded over our shared love of high fashion and French truffles.

  “Hey, girl. Surprised to see you here. I thou
ght you’d be in Europe still,” Amanda says, pulling me from my thoughts.

  My answering smile feels tight. “Ah, yeah. Change of plans. Turns out, I’ll be in the city all summer.”

  “I guess you’ll get to try all the flavors this summer then, huh.” Amanda smiles. “What’ll it be today?”

  That gets a wide smile from me. I’ve been coming to this coffee shop for a long time, and just about every time I’m here, Amanda is working. We’ve gotten to know one another over the years. “Too true. Busy today?”

  Amanda nods and adjusts her daisy-printed apron. “Yep. Just getting over a little rush. And we have blueberry green tea today. I know that’s a favorite of yours.”

  I chuckle and adjust the strap of my crossbody purse, peeling it off my sticky skin. “You know me so well, Amanda. Okay, I’ll take one of those, large, please.”

  “You got it.” Amanda turns around and pours my drink from the carafe on the counter behind the register. A few seconds later, she spins to face me and slides the to-go cup and straw on the counter. “That’ll be four seventy-four,” she says with a smile.

  I shove my hand into my purse to grab my wallet, but I come up empty-handed. I open it wider and peer inside, moving a few things around as if my pink wallet will magically appear behind my lip gloss.

  My heart settles in my throat and a flush that has nothing to do with the heat rolls over me and settles in my cheeks. My shoulders hitch toward my ears, and I flick my gaze back to Amanda. “I, uh, seem to have misplaced my wallet. Probably left it on my kitchen table or something.” I force a laugh that sounds strained even to my ears. “Let me go grab—”