“What time is it?” I ask.
“It’s past four,” she says. “You missed a few appointments with your clients. Your assistant was concerned, so she reached out to me. Gabi and I have both been trying to call you, but you didn’t pick up.”
It takes me a moment to register what she’s saying. There’s no way that can be right. I feel like I hardly slept, and I never miss work.
“Oh god.” I glance around in a panic. “My phone must have died. I can’t believe I slept through it.”
“It’s okay.” Valentina tries to reassure me. “I covered for you and told her you were sick. She rescheduled everyone.”
“It’s not okay.”
I stand up and try to assemble my scattered thoughts. Right now, work is probably the least of my concerns. If my father knew I’d slept all day, he’d be livid. I need to get dressed. I have to make myself presentable. And then I need to call my assistant and apologize.
“Does he know?” I blurt.
“No.” Val hesitates. “Papà was out this morning, but he’s home now and wants to see you in his office.”
“Marone!” I hurry to my closet, flipping through the nearest rack of clothes I keep for occasions I have to face him.
“What do you think he wants?” I call over my shoulder.
“I don’t know.” She frowns. “But Matteo is here too.”
I yank a black Armani sheath dress from the rack as a knot settles in my stomach. There can only be a few reasons Matteo ishere, and none of them are good. Either my father is pressuring him to set a date, or he’s come bearing more bad news.
“You have some time,” Val tells me. “I brought them drinks and cigars. Go wash your face, and I’ll help with your hair.”
Normally, I’d rather walk through broken glass than accept help, but I don’t have a choice right now. My father is far worse than broken glass, and I can’t put him off.
After a quick wash, I dress and return to my room, expecting to meet Valentina back at my vanity. But she’s still at my desk, looking over the apartment brochures I left there.
“Why do you have these?” She glances up at me with worried eyes.
I take a seat at the vanity and avoid her gaze. “I was just curious. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal that you’re looking at real estate in Seattle when you’re supposed to marry Matteo and move to the other side of the island?”
I stare at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman in the reflection. My features are the same as they’ve always been—pale green eyes, olive skin, black hair. In my mid-twenties, I’m still clinging to my youth. But it’s not my reflection that’s changed. It’s the loss of naivety that’s altered me.
My life didn’t turn out the way I had hoped, but I’ve accepted it for what it is, and I’ve made the most of it. I’ve built a successful business. I dedicate time to hobbies and keep a busy social calendar with my core group of friends. I contribute to my community and stay active with regular Pilates classes. Then of course, there’s Aegis. I have purpose, even if I don’t have the life I envisioned. But I’m still chained by this engagement to Matteo that he refuses to end, and every day I live in this house, I suffocate under my father’s reign. Yet, nobody knows it because I’ve become so attached to the lie that everything is fine, I can no longer verbalize the truth.
“You used to tell me everything.” Valentina joins me at the vanity and grabs my brush. “What gives?”
I offer a half-hearted shrug. My sister’s too intelligent to pacify with excuses, but my pain is a burden only I can bear. As an older sister, it’s my job to set an example, and in our family, the bar is so high, not even perfection is good enough.
“Sometimes it’s just fun to dream,” I admit.
I don’t tell her that I’ve also been hiding large amounts of cash for the inevitable fallout when my current engagement dissolves.
Valentina smooths my waist-length hair over my shoulders and starts to brush it. “Why would you need to dream about a different life when this is the one you chose?”
I apply my foundation as she detangles my hair because, truthfully, I don’t know how to answer that without giving too much away.
“You told me it was your choice to marry Matteo after Angelo went to prison,” she reminds me. “But it’s been six years, and you only ever see him for appearances.”
“Is that any different from most of the couples we know?”
“Well, no,” she mutters. “But it wasn’t like that with Angelo. You saw him almost every day.”
