I was only supposed to be a bridesmaid.I was never meant to be the one giving up everything.
My father clears his throat.“You’ll grow to like Nico.Maybe one day you’ll love him.”
My heart cracks a little more.What a terrible thing to say to the daughter you’re trading to save your own skin.
My mother looks away, staring out the window as if the scenery is more interesting than our conversation.She doesn’t offer me any words of encouragement.Gissette, my younger sister, sticks her tongue out at me.She’s lucky she’s only twelve.A child still.By the time she marries she will have the freedom of choice.Truthfully our father will likely be dead by then with his lifestyle.
She has no idea what is happening.I envy her cluelessness.
Mother whispers something to Father.The two of them discuss my life as if I’m not in the car.I digest every unwelcome glance they shoot my way when my name comes up in their conversation.I catch snippets here and there.Nico Moretti.Estate.Business.Empire.Don.Bride.Babies.
I am nothing more than an asset.A pawn.Their property.Not their daughter.
They don’t care about me.Have they ever loved me?
Tears burn in the creases of my eyes.I don’t want them to see me cry.To watch me break.They only care that I arrive at the wedding picture perfect.The dutiful daughter.Ready to say those two dreaded words.
I do.
The words stick in my throat.My fear morphing into my resentment.
I close my eyes again, squeezing them shut tight, wishing my shoulders would sprout wings and I could fly far away and never look back.
Lynette had two years to get used to the idea of marrying Nico.I’ve hardly had an hour.
“You’ll learn to love him,” Mother repeats Father’s words.
My father’s eyes bore into mine.His voice comes out louder this time, less patient.“He’s a good man.”
He’s a dangerous man, I think, but the words never claw their way up my throat.
Instead, I nod like a good girl.Arguing won’t change anything.
My father gave his word and I gave mine.A man's word in this world has more currency than gold.
My nerves are raw.Frayed around the edges, like the loose thread on my favorite sweater.I try to picture what today will hold, but every time I do, the only thing I see is his face.My husband to be.Nico Moretti.I twist my fingers together, feeling the roughness of his hands.I touch my cheek, imagining the prickle of his facial hair.I don’t know what color his eyes are, but in my mind, they are the deepest black, capable of drowning me.Swallowing me.Smothering out all the light.
I think about everything I know about the man I’m to marry.Secret conversations with my sister play through my head.Keywords stick out.Ones I’ve hung onto.Stored in the back of my mind like the jewelry box full of mismatched beads I kept under my bed.
Mobster.Powerful.Cold.Rich.All the things any girl would want in a husband.Or so that’s what Lynette would say when we talked about her engagement.
My nails dig into my palm, leaving crescent-shaped indentations.Angers boils through my veins.Why didn’t I run?Why didn’t I see any of this coming?My regrets leave me hollow, and my knees knock together with every passing mile we travel.Every turn and curve that brings me that much closer to my fate.
Our driver slows as we wind around another curve.Dark trees arch overhead, creating a canopy.I wish one of them would stretch its branches down and pluck me right out of my seat.The sound of crunching gravel drowns out the blood rushing in my ears and kills my fantasy of escaping.My heart is beating too fast.I want to shrink down, fold myself into nothing.The door unlocks.My father twists around, gesturing for me to exit the car.I don’t move.Not yet.Intense armed men greet us.I’m used to seeing the same scene at my childhood home daily, but these men are larger than my father’s.More intimidating.They have scared faces and tattoos on every patch of visible skin, including their hands.
Fear beats its fists against my ribs.Battering into me like a ram breeching the castle gates.
Whitewood Manor looms behind the men just as menacing.Gargoyles perched above us, staring down at me as though they might come to life at any second, flap their wings and vomit fire.Dark stone pillars wrapped in ivy.Floor to ceiling windows.The estate is enormous and breathtakingly beautiful.Like something found in a gothic fairytale and not what I expected at all.
A dark shadow moves in the highest window of the east tower.A shiver courses up and down my spine.A warning.Stay away.Don’t exit the car.Don’t come inside.
But the mysterious figure is soon forgotten.My gaze lands on him.Nico, the man I’m about to wed until death do us part.
He’s everything I remember and more.Taller than the other men, his shoulders broad and intimidating.Then there’s his hair, black as the darkest of nights.He’s handsome.Chiseled jawline dusted with facial hair.Perfect lips.Not too thin.Manicured brows, but not in an obvious way.His eyes meet mine, dark as charcoal.The sight of him takes my breath away, or maybe that’s the anxiety choking me.
As attractive as he is, he’s also scowling at me.He’s pissed.He’s terrifyingly handsome.And he's at least fifteen years older than me.
He continues to stare at me with those dark eyes.
