Carlo is waiting in a tuxedo on the other side of the door, looking dangerously dapper. I check my invisible armor for chinks and prepare myself for whatever arrows he wants to sling my way after locking me away the past few days.
“You're beautiful, Francesca.” An unwanted rush of pleasure fills me with his words. I feel beautiful in the shimmering pale blue gown with a string of pearls looped around my throat.
But he follows the compliment with a surly, “I hope you’ve been practicing your happy-bride smile.”
Myresentment over today would’ve been strong a month ago. Things have shifted in ways I didn’t expect. Where has he been while I've been in my new cage? "I've perfected it. It's necessary in this marriage, I suppose," I tell him, giving him the biggest stage smile imaginable.
He sighs, adjusts his cufflinks, and leads me to the elevator. “Come. They’re all waiting.”
"I dropped my phone," I say as the elevator descends. I've had lots of time to think. "But you found me almost like you knew exactly where I was. How?"
His fingers brush over my wedding band. "Prettier than an ankle monitor, no?"
My stomach drops. A tracking device in my ring. Why am I even surprised? I should flush the beautiful diamonds and rubies down the nearest toilet, but would that change anything? I'll still be guarded, and I wouldn't put it past Carlo to have something surgically implanted in me."Did you really believe I'd ever let you go?"
“I’ve only missed a few days of class so far. I would hate to fall too far behind. Or are you going to make me drop out?”
“Remember to behave tonight,” he clips, leading me toward the ballroom.
I slant a look of utter defiance his way, but we step inside, and a hundred faces turn toward us. The low hum of conversation dries up for a painful handful of seconds – how many of them despise me already? – before applause fills the air. The only thing more fake than their clapping is my answering smile.
***
That fake smile is still plastered on my face an hour later as Carlo leads me through our obligatory first dance. “We danced at another reception not so long ago,” I comment, hoping to kickstart a conversation.
“Hmm.”
One word. Not even a real word. He closes his mouth - was it even really open for that utterance? - and keeps leading me through the steps of our dance. How can his hands be so warm when his expression is so cold?
“Carlo…”
“Don’t,” he huffs in response to my pleading tone.
So damn stubborn, he’s been convinced his word is law since birth. Fed up with the silent treatment, I stop dancing right in the middle of the song and in front of our assembled guests.
Carlo’s jaw clenches as he tries to keep us moving, but he’s literally dragging me around the dancefloor, and he has to stop, too. “Frankie, what the fuck-”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd, but I ignore them. Mere murmurs can't hurt me anymore. “If you won’t speak to me, this farce is over. We danceandwe talk or we’re not dancing.”
“Then, speak if you must,” he growls, sweeping us right back into the flow of the music.
I swallow hard, trying to push the words past my lips. Why does his indifference hurt so much? Two months ago, I prayed for his indifference. “I wasn't with another manthatway when you found me. I was with-”
“Your brother,” he finishes for me. My eyes widen, but I shouldn’t be surprised. “Were you going to run from me?"
"No."
"Why should I believe you? He already came to my city once before to steal away my fiancée. Why wouldn't he help my wife do the same? Hiding things from a man like me usually brings harsh penalties, Francesca.”
“I don’t doubt it, but my husband told me not so long ago he’d rather cut off his own hand than ever strike me.”
“And I never will.”
“Would you be able to cut Luca or Renato out of your life completely because of some made-up rules?”
“It’s more than ‘made-up rules’ to us.”
“Would you kill them for the Trio then?” He stiffens and glances away, clearly not liking my question. “You didn’t hit me, but I’d almost prefer that to being locked away while you ignore me. It hurts, Carlo. Knowing I’ve hurt you hurts me more.”
