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.