“Mr.Dellamare.”I meet Cesare’s gaze directly, refusing to be the first to look away.“I believe we met at the Syndicate gala last year.”
“Please, call me Cesare.”His voice is smooth, cultured, with just a hint of an Italian accent.“And may I say, you look absolutely stunning this morning, Serena.”
The compliment makes my skin crawl.I incline my head politely and say nothing.
“Cesare’s family has been invaluable to our operations,” Father continues, and I can hear the underlying message in his tone.This is business.This is strategy.This is not negotiable.“The Dellamares control significant territory in northern Italy, and their influence in Europe is growing rapidly.A closer alliance between our families would benefit everyone.”
No.No, no, no.
I know where this is going.I’ve known since I walked into the room and saw Cesare sitting at my father’s left hand like an honored guest.
“Over the past few months, Cesare and I have been discussing such an alliance.”Father picks up his espresso cup with steady hands.“And we’ve come to an agreement that will strengthen both our families considerably.”
Joe shifts in his seat, and when I glance at him, his expression is carefully blank.But I know my brother.His teeth are clenched, setting his jaw in a tense angle, his fingers are white-knuckled as he holds the silver fork with enough force to snap it into pieces.
He doesn’t like this either.
But he’s not going to stop it.
“Serena,” Father says, and his voice has taken on that particular tone that means he’s about to issue a decree dressed up as a request.“Cesare has asked for your hand in marriage, and I have accepted on your behalf.The engagement is finalized.The wedding will take place in three months.”
The room tilts.
I’m good at controlling my reactions.I’ve been trained since childhood to never show weakness, never show fear, never show anything my father might use against me.But for a precious moment the carefully-crafted mask slips.
“Father—“
“This is not a discussion.”His voice hardens.“The contracts have been signed.The alliance is sealed.You will marry Cesare and unite our families.This is your duty to the DiLorenzo name.”
Across the table, Cesare is still smiling.The triumph in his expression now makes my blood boil.
“I understand duty, Father.”I force my voice to remain level.“But surely?—“
“There is no ‘surely.’”He sets down his cup with a sharp click.“You are twenty-five years old.It’s past time you were married.Cesare is an excellent match—powerful, wealthy, connected.Not entirely ugly.”My father and my unexpected fiancé exchange a look that makes my stomach churn.Dad holds my gaze as he goes on, “Most women would kill to be in your place.You should be grateful.”
Grateful.He wantsmeto be grateful for being sold like livestock.These fictional women can have my place any time of the day.
Obviously, I can’t say anything remotely revealing of my real feelings about this dumpster fire situation.I take a few deep breaths to control my rage.
After swallowing all the cuss words popping up in my head, I carefully reply, “Can I ask what prompted this particular alliance?Why now?”
Something dark and sad flickers in Father’s eyes.Guilt, perhaps?Fatherly concern for a daughter’s bleak future?
He quickly smothers whatever emotion sparked in his soul before answering, “The Dellamare family holds certain...assets...that are valuable to our operations.This marriage secures our access to those assets, strengthening our position in Europe.”
Assets.He’s talking about assets.
Not my happiness.Not my life.Not even the strategic benefit to me.
Just assets.
“I see.”I look at Cesare again, really look at him.He’s watching me like he knows exactly how this is going to play out.“And what does Cesare gain from this arrangement?”
“Besides a beautiful wife?”Cesare’s smile widens.“The DiLorenzo name carries significant weight in the Syndicate, particularly on the East Coast.An alliance with your family opens doors that have been closed to the Dellamares.And of course, your father has offered a considerable dowry.”
A dowry.Like we’re living in the fucking seventeenth century.
“How generous of him,” I murmur.
