Something warm touches my cheek. I blink and realize its Carlo’s thumb catching my tear. I angrily bat away his hand. “Don’t touch me! You’re a monster like all the other men I know. Why should I believe you cared that much for Beppe? You told me the day we met that a little girl like me could never hurt you. I doubt you know what it is to hurt at all.”
“Who says a monster can't be hurt? That's usually when he's the most dangerous.”
Speechless, I stare at him through teary eyes until he reaches into his pocket, handing me a handkerchief and bidding me to dry my eyes.
“Girls your age are usually promised by now. Are you?”
I scoff. “Me? The rat's daughter? If I were, they'd give me to someone awful like my cousin Gia's husband. No, thank you.”
“What if there was a way to live out from under the scrutiny you endure and be free to attend college while still being protected? Would you be willing to consider it for the sake of your dreams?”
Such an odd question and odd way to phrase it. He’s testing my loyalty, isn’t he?
“I live under my uncles’ rule, and I know I must heed their decisions. Speaking of which, regardless of my dismal marriage prospects, honor forbids us from being alone together this way outside my bedroom.”
“Then, I will bid you goodnight and, as I fly to New York in the morning, I will bid you farewell.”
He bows like some fairytale prince, but his eyes betray intense displeasure and frustration he doesn’t verbalize as he goes, leaving me more unsettled than ever.
***
That night, I have a difficult time finding sleep once more. So much is riding on my audition when I know my uncles agreeing to that is not the same as them agreeing to me moving to New York. Carlo was right about no one leaving. I just have to hope they want to be rid of me enough to overlook that.
With an annoyed huff, my hand drifts down my torso and into my panties, seeking a distraction from my racing thoughts. I begin rubbing my clit, trying to summon a familiar fantasy to help me along. None of them will do, and I’m forced to turn my head into my pillow in shame when I focus my imaginings on him. I am a horrible person. He’s going to be Sofia’s husband. Betrayal runs in my blood. At least no one will ever know about this.
After I come with a quiet cry, my shame evaporates, and I finally find sleep.
***
The next morning, I’m relieved Carlo is gone until I learn he left a broken heart in his wake.
Sofia wandered away from her room last night as the Seconda Notte was carrying on and spied her fiancé by the pool. Two prostitutes were busy servicing him right there where anyone could see. Her rose-colored glasses shattered at last. She swears she’ll never marry him, but she’ll soon learn what I already know - we girls don’t make the rules around here.
Ihatehim. He doesn’t deserve Sofia. He dares speak of betrayal to me and behaves like that? Secretly, I hate that I feel personallybetrayed as well somehow. But what matters is I’m reminded once more I can’t trust men and Ineverwant to marry into this fucked up world I live in.
***
Five days later, my plane lands in Reno. I message Mom I’ll be home soon. I love being with my cousins, but I worry about her when I’m away for so many days. She doesn’t handle the isolation of our position as well as I do, but she refuses to leave the house, claiming illness even when it comes to her own nephew’s wedding.
Alessio kicked Rocco’s ass for the security failure at the reception, and he slunk off the morning after the wedding while Uncle Enzo left after the Seconda, so a guard from the household was ordered to see me safely home. He’s fairly new, but he already treats me with the same contempt as the others. I don’t care. I ignore him and go to fetch my own luggage.
As the rotating belt sweeps an array of bags past, I realize a stranger has stepped up beside me, a man with a beard donning a gray hoodie. My suitcase comes into view and, as I lean over to retrieve it, I feel compelled to look back at him. One glance is all it takes to explain that odd, magnetic pull.
“Ronan?” I whisper in shock, staring into the dark blue eyes of the brother I’ve believed dead for the past three years.
8
Carlo
“What the hell were you thinking?"
I groan at Luca's question. "I thought… Young ladies can be excused for having cold feet, but it would be dishonorable to set her aside so close to the wedding. Not to mention it would start a war," I tell him as we stroll into our parents' townhouse before eight.
"How was catching a double by the girl's pool not dishonorable?"
Fuck.I’m a cold-blooded killer. Guilt isn't an emotion I feel, but my behavior at Alessio’s Seconda was admittedly distasteful. “It was rash and pointless. I couldn't even come."
"With two pros? You're joking, right?"
