Chapter 7

• The makeup and wardrobe team came to me, transforming me from an ordinary young woman into a vision of elegance and seduction for the masquerade ball. My blood-red dress was stunning, and the matching mask concealed part of my face, leaving only my eyes exposed. I had never felt as sexy and alluring as I did that night.
• Federica, always there to support me, watched my transformation and smiled with approval. “You look absolutely stunning, Catarina. You're perfect.”
• I smiled back at her, grateful for her words of encouragement. “Thank you, Federica. Tonight is the night when I'll show everyone that I deserve a place in the family. Starting with the meeting with the Russians.”
• She nodded, understanding the significance of the night for me. “Be careful, Catarina, and don't forget who you are.”
• After Federica's approval, I left my room and headed to the mezzanine, where Don Salvatore was waiting for me. From there, he introduced me to over five hundred masked guests who filled the mansion. I watched people, trying to guess their identities behind the elaborate masks.
• Don Salvatore smiled at the crowd and said loudly, “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the star of the night, the birthday girl, Catarina Piromalli.”
• A warmth spread through my face as all eyes turned to me. I smiled and waved to the crowd, grateful for everyone's presence on this special night.
• Don Salvatore approached me as if he were going to kiss my cheek, but his lips brushed against my ear as he whispered surprising words: “You are out of the meeting with the Russians.”
• I stepped back slightly, confused by Don Salvatore's statement. “What do you mean, Don Salvatore? Why am I out of the meeting?”
• He turned to face me, and his expression was serious. “You need to understand your place, Catarina. This is a decision we've made for the good of the family.”
• I looked him directly in the eyes, determined to understand his motivations. “But why? I've done everything you've asked, I've worked hard to prove my worth.”
• Don Salvatore sighed and then replied firmly, “This is a way for you to finally understand where your place is and who is in charge of the family. Don't question my decisions, Catarina.”
• I felt hurt and confused, but at that moment, in front of all the guests, I couldn't argue with him. I reluctantly nodded, feeling powerless in the face of Don Salvatore's will.
• The party continued, and I tried to forget the disturbing conversation with the family's head while interacting with guests, dancing, and trying to enjoy the night. However, Don Salvatore's words echoed in my mind, reminding me that, even amid the celebration, I was far from achieving the recognition I desired in the Mancuso family.
• ***
• After the discussion with Don Salvatore, something inside me simply broke. The determination and respect I had held for so long disappeared, replaced by a thirst for freedom and a desire to express myself in a way I had never experienced before.
• I decided I was going to push the boundaries. I stormed through the party like a hurricane, exceeding all limits. Likewise, I grabbed champagne flutes, martinis, wine, and any drink that came my way, and I drank without hesitation. I threw myself onto the dance floor, where the glittering lights and loud music enveloped me. I didn't care about the judgmental glances watching me because that night, I was the star of my own story.
• The girls, my closest friends, Fioreza, Antonella, Cinzia, Elma, Donatella, and Giulia, surrounded me, concerned about my state. Fioreza asked where Dante, the older adoptive brother whom they believed was the most handsome, was. I couldn't help the laughter that escaped my lips, even though the situation was not funny.
• “Dante? I highly doubt he'll come to my party. He hates me, remember?”
• The girls exchanged worried glances. Elma, realizing I was already a bit drunk, asked if I was okay. My response came with a carefree tone.
• “I'm perfect, Elma. Just enjoy the night.”
• I walked away from the girls and returned to the dance floor, where the music pulsed in my ears. I danced as if there were no tomorrow, losing myself in the beat and the feeling of freedom that the alcohol and music provided.
• However, the truth was, that I was not okay. I was drowning in the pain of Don Salvatore's rejection and the feeling that I would never be seen as a true part of the family. But at that moment, I didn't want to think about it. I wanted to forget the responsibilities, the commitments, and the expectations. I just wanted to be myself, even if it was just for one night.
• Not only that, but I reached the bar and ordered another drink, feeling fearless and invincible. That night, I would show everyone, especially Don Salvatore, who Catarina Piromalli was. It was my way of proving that I couldn't be controlled or restrained, no matter how powerful the man trying to shape me was.
• ***
• The party continued in full swing, and I was immersed in a state of drunkenness that made me feel invulnerable. I drank everything within my reach, trying to drown out the frustrations and the sense of rejection that had taken over me. As I maintained this defiant posture, I noticed the presence of a tall man dressed in a black suit and wearing an equally black mask. My first reaction was to deduce that he was another one of Don Salvatore's henchmen, assigned to monitor me and ensure I didn't do anything inappropriate.
• With a martini glass in hand, I extended it to the man with a tipsy smile. “Want a sip?” I asked, imagining that he would refuse, since he was there to keep an eye on me.
• The man remained silent for a moment and then let out a bewildering laugh. “I don't think it would fit two people,” he replied with a hint of irony.
• I downed the martini, took the last sip, and continued my unsteady journey through the party. As I walked, I bumped into one of the guests, and before I realized it, the man in the black suit grabbed my arm and pulled me into his muscular arms. I let out a laugh as I observed him up close and commented on his strength.
• However, he didn't seem to be in the mood for playfulness. He gently pushed me away, but I wasn't ready to give up my night of rebellion. I turned to him and said with a teasing laugh, “Oh, you're one of those serious types, aren't you? I like that.”
• He remained silent, watching me with eyes that gleamed behind the mask. But I wasn't willing to be controlled by anyone else that night. With a dismissive gesture, I pushed him away and continued my stroll through the mansion's garden.
• The night was starry and perfect, the ideal setting for my personal rebellion. I found a solitary wooden bench and sat down, allowing the nighttime breeze to clear some of the drunkenness that enveloped me. The man in the black suit, however, didn't leave me alone and sat down next to me.
• I stared at him for a moment, my dulled senses trying to understand why he was there. A crazy idea popped into my mind, driven by the combination of alcohol and challenge. I leaned in his direction and, with a mischievous smile on my lips, asked provocatively, “Are you ugly? Because, you know, I really want to kiss you, but I don't want to regret it later.”
• I didn't wait for an answer. Instead, I leaned closer to the man's face, my audacity intensified by the alcohol in my veins, and took his lips in a fiery kiss. It was a kiss that was a mixture of challenge, rebellion, and a momentary need to feel something different, something that would take me out of my own head.
• The kiss was like a bolt of electricity, a flame that ignited in an instant. The masked man's response was immediate, his lips responding to mine with unexpected passion. The world around us disappeared as we surrendered to that fleeting moment of desire and prohibition.
• It was a kiss that burned and faded quickly, leaving both of us breathless.
• “Thank you, ugly,” I casually thanked him for the kiss, hoping the man wouldn't judge me for my impulsiveness. He responded with an enigmatic smile.
• “You're welcome, Bambi.”
• My heart skipped a beat. Bambi. It was like an electric shock. I turned to look at the man beside me, the mask still covering his eyes.
• “Dante?” I whispered, incredulous.
• He removed the black mask, revealing the face I knew so well. It was Dante, the older adoptive brother, whom I believed hated me. The same person who had given me the nickname I despised.
• He smiled ironically, as if he were enjoying my surprise. “Surprise, Bambi. It looks like the birthday party isn't so bad after all.”
• I didn't know what to say. My world had been turned upside down that night, and the last person I expected to kiss was Dante.