The Consigliere Who Chose Everyone but Me

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere.

He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world.

Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face.

Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed.

[Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.]

Then I saw Livia’s new post.

It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me.

The caption was a gut punch:

[No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ]

The cold hit me. Bone deep.

He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance?

The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out.

I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart.

When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco.

The last one came in thirty minutes ago:

[Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.]

I didn't reply.

An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?

I'm a mafia princess with crippling social anxiety. My fiancé, Rocco Falcone, is our family's consigliere.

He’s the exact opposite of me—extroverted, effortlessly charming, a master at reading and bending people. He's supposed to be my protector. My only link to the outside world.

Tonight was the charity gala for my late mother. I was hiding in the darkest corner, a mask covering my face.

Rocco was supposed to give the speech. My speech. He never showed.

[Emergency. Sorry. Skip the speech, I know you hate the attention. Driver will take you home after the auction. Don't wait up.]

Then I saw Livia’s new post.

It was a picture of Rocco, draping his suit jacket over her shoulders. He was looking down at her, his eyes full of a tenderness he never showed me.

The caption was a gut punch:

[No prom date, so my big bro saved the day! Couldn't have done it without him! ]

The cold hit me. Bone deep.

He ditched a memorial for my dead mother... to take his stepsister to a university dance?

The guests began whispering and sneering that I, the famously awkward, socially crippled princess, couldn’t even force a word out.

I stared at the whiskey I’d ordered for him. The ice in my glass was melting. Just like the hope in my heart.

When I got back to our empty penthouse, my screen was lit up with missed calls and texts from Rocco.

The last one came in thirty minutes ago:

[Aurelia, trouble at Livia's prom. You know how she gets. Couldn't leave her. Your mother's gala means everything. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time will be perfect. Trust me.]

I didn't reply.

An engagement held together by "next time." Was a promise like that even worth keeping?

...

I didn't expect to run into Rocco at the family's private club two hours later.

My cousin, Caterina, had dragged me out, worried I'd lock myself away.

The air was thick with smoke, expensive whiskey, and cloying perfume. It was a shield. Dark enough, loud enough. Here, I wasn't the Marino princess. I was invisible.

A sax wailed from a corner of the room.

I leaned back on the sofa and closed my eyes. A moment later, a familiar hand touched my shoulder.

"Aurelia?" Rocco’s voice cut through the noise. "What are you doing here?"

I looked up. Rocco stood over me, surprise and a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Before I could speak, Caterina was on her feet. "Well, look what the cat dragged in," she drawled, her voice dripping poison. "Shouldn't you be chaperoning a high school dance, Rocco? Or is your 'sister' all tuckered out?"

Rocco’s face tightened. His eyes darted between me and Caterina.

"Aurelia, why didn't you answer my texts? I sent you a dozen explaining..."

"Explaining what?" Caterina sneered. "How you blew off Aurelia's mother's memorial to play Prince Charming for your stepsister?"

I put a hand on Caterina’s wrist, a silent signal to stop.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Livia was at the entrance, all innocent in a white evening gown, looking fragile and helpless.

"Livia ran into some trouble," Rocco explained, his voice tired. "Some guys at the prom were giving her a hard time. I was worried. I brought her here to lay low. I wasn't her prom date."

I nodded, but my heart twisted. A sharp, needle-like pain.

Even with his excuses, the fact was he'd abandoned me on the anniversary of my mother's death.

And now he’d brought Livia here. To our private club.

Before I could respond, Livia drifted over, her voice a soft whisper. "Brother, it's all my fault. Please don't make Aurelia mad because of me. I can handle those guys outside. Dad just called, I should go home. You stay with her..."

At her words, Rocco's expression, which had been pleading for my forgiveness, changed.

"I'm not letting you go back alone," he said, his tone firm. "Aurelia will understand. Wait for me. I'll take you."

He pulled me aside, his voice softening. "I'm sorry, Aurelia. I have to get her home. Wait for me, okay? I’ll have your favorite white Andalusian brought up from the Long Island stable. We'll keep him at the estate. And I swear, I will never miss another gala."

My nose stung. I just nodded.

“Good girl. I already called you a car. Go home.”

He patted my head—like I was a dog he was quieting—then turned and walked away. No second thought.

He left so fast, he didn't even notice me flinch away from his touch.

Of course. He remembered all my favorite things. He knew which horse I loved to ride. He knew I couldn't handle crowds, so he was always ready to be my voice.

But the second Livia, his annoying stepsister, needed anything, he'd drop everything.

He was so sure that a few comforting words were all it took to make me stay. To make me wait for him. Always.

Their figures vanished through the club's doors.

"That little bitch," Caterina muttered.

I poured a glass of whiskey and downed it in one go.

The burn in my throat did nothing to warm the ice in my heart.

It was 2 a.m. when I got back to the penthouse.

Rocco shot up from the sofa, his face a mask of anxiety and anger.

"I got back an hour ago," he said, storming towards me. "You said you'd be home early. Why are you drunk?"

I steadied myself against the console table, looking into his furious eyes. A wave of hurt washed over me.

"So you can play knight in shining armor for Livia all night, but I can't have a damn drink?"

Rocco's face went dark.

"Aurelia, that's enough," he snapped. "You're being petty. It's childish. Livia is my sister. My sister! And you're accusing us?"

My eyes welled up. I bit my lip, unable to speak.

Seeing my tears, his expression softened.

He sighed and walked over.

"Okay, don't cry," he said, gently wiping a tear from my eye. "I didn't mean to yell."

He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket. A diamond necklace glittered inside. A bribe.

"Forgive me?" he murmured, his lips finding mine.

I closed my eyes and let myself sink into his embrace.

After the kiss, Rocco swept me up and carried me to the master bathroom. He undressed me with practiced hands, then guided me into the shower, testing the water against his own wrist before letting it touch my skin.

The warm spray washed over my skin.

"I'm sorry, Aurelia," he whispered in my ear. "I know I let you down today."

I leaned against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

Maybe I was overthinking it.

Rocco wrapped me in a towel and carried me to bed.

"Sleep now, my princess."

I closed my eyes, relaxing in his arms. The alcohol made me drowsy, and his warmth made me feel safe.

Just as I was about to drift off, the mattress shifted.

I opened my eyes, groggy.

The space beside me was empty.

Rocco was throwing on his clothes, the light from his phone flickering in the dark.

"Rocco?" I murmured.

"Shh, go back to sleep," he whispered. "Something came up. I'll be back soon."

He leaned down, gave me a quick kiss, and hurried out of the room.

A few minutes later, the roar of a Lamborghini engine tore through the night.

It sounded angry, raw, ripping the sky apart.

I stared at the ceiling. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a fist.

At this hour, who else could it be but Livia?