My father fills the doorway, his face flushed with anger, and probably whisky as well. His drinking is getting harder and harder these days.
I snap my laptop shut, guilt flooding through me even though I’ve done nothing wrong. “I’m almost ready, Dad.”
“You need to be downstairs in fifteen minutes. Do you understand me?” His voice is cold and clipped. “This marriage is the most important alliance our family has ever made, and you will not embarrass me by making us late.”
I smooth my hands over my satin lilac dress with its ruffled sleeves and hem, the one I spent an hour choosing. I wanted to look nice for Vincenzo, but after seeing my hard-eyed husband-to-be, the dress feels girlish and naïve.
“I don’t understand why it’s suddenly so important that we ally with the Vicis. Last month you said they were animals.”
“It’s not your place to understand.” He steps into my room, and I instinctively flinch away. “Your duty is to obey. To smile. To make that man like you. Can you do that, or are you going to be as useless as your mother?”
The words hit like a slap. Mom worked herself to a shadow trying to please Dad, but it was never enough. I wonder if I’m doomed to the same fate with my own marriage.
I swallow hard, nodding. “I can do that.”
“Good.” His eyes narrow as he looks me over, cataloging every flaw. “Fix your makeup. You look like you’ve been crying.”
Several tears ran down my face as I brushed mascara over my lashes, but I cleaned them up, and I didn’t think anyone could tell. “Yes, Dad.”
He turns to leave, then pauses at the door. “The Vicis are dangerous people, Adora. Don’t forget that you’re a Montoni first. Always.”
The door closes behind him with a decisive click.
I turn to the mirror, makeup remover in hand, ready to obey like I always do. But I pause, studying my reflection. The mascara isn’t smudged. There’s no evidence of tears. Dad just wanted to make me doubt myself.
I set the makeup remover down. I’m not fixing anything. If Vincenzo Vici thinks I look like I’ve been crying, then he can deal with it. At least he’ll know what kind of family he’s marrying into.
One where brides arrive at their engagement parties already broken.
My hands tremble as I open my laptop one more time and look at the face on the screen. I shiver as Vincenzo’s blue eyes bore into mine. What the hell am I going to talk to this man about? What common ground can we possibly find? I picture him spattered with blood as a stripper grinds in his lap, a glass of whisky in his hand, and a gun laid on the table before him. He’s probably a playboy who’ll be impatient and bored with an inexperienced virgin bride.
I’ve never seen an R-rated movie. Never been kissed. Never been to Europe, Japan, New Zealand, or any of the other places I long to visit. My life has been forcibly sheltered, and now Dad’s marrying me off to a killer.
I move closer to the screen and gaze into Vincenzo’s eyes.
He looks terrifying.
He looks…lonely.
I sit back with a sigh. That’s just wishful thinking, and I’m projecting my own feelings onto him. Vincenzo Vici no doubt leads a full, blood-soaked life of danger and adventure, and he’s going to resent his naïve bride.
He’ll be disappointed the moment he lays eyes on me.
I close the laptop and finish getting ready, my stomach twisting with nerves that feel more like nausea.
Twenty minutes later,I’m sitting in the back of Dad’s car, watching the city slide past the tinted windows. My father sits beside me, checking his phone, his face unreadable. His capos occupy the car behind us, and another car of soldiers follows that one. A convoy for an engagement party.
“Where are we going? I thought the party was at the Bellissimo,” I say, naming one of the restaurants by the river.
“Change of plans,” Dad says without looking up from his phone. “I decided on somewhere more private. The Regal Grand Ballroom.”
I open my mouth to protest that the Regal Grand Ballroom is a massive space, more suited for a wedding with hundreds of guests than a private engagement celebration between two families, but it’s best not to question my father. I close my mouth and turn back to the window.
I wish Mom were here. She’d hold my hand and tell me in her soft, sweet way that everything would be all right. Vincenzo couldn’t help but fall for me the moment he lays eyes on me. My throat tightens with grief as I realize she’ll never see me in my wedding dress. If I get pregnant one day, I’ll never be able to share the good news with her or see her holding her grandchild.
Finally, we pull up to an enormous building that looks like it was once a theater or opera house. Its facade is golden stone, carved with angels, glowing warm in the afternoon light. Garlands of white roses frame the entrance, and a red carpet runs up the steps.
Dad gets out of the car without helping me, and I scramble to follow, my high heel catching on the curb.
