“Fina? Should I call Doctor Cliff?”
“I’m fine. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” she replies while avoiding my eye. I’m missing something, I can tell, but whatever it is can wait. She needs to know a date has been set for this bullshit marriage to Santini.
Since it’s clear Chiara isn’t going to leave, and I don’t feel like causing any more bad blood between us by manhandling her out of the kitchen, I take a seat on Fina’s other side.
“Father’s signed a marriage contract with Domenico Santini.” The color drains from Fina’s cheeks.
“He has?” To her credit, her voice remains steady, even though her hand trembles as she picks up her glass of water. Not coffee, which is surprising. I guess it’s late, though.
“Yeah. He’s set a date for the wedding. Saturday the twenty-first.”
The glass slips from Fina’s fingers as she lifts it. Water splashes all over me and her, and when the glass hits the stone floor, it shatters.
“Fina, I’m doing my best—” I begin, but before I can get the words out, her eyes roll back in her head and she slides off her chair, out cold.
“Call Doctor Cliff!”
Matteo runs back into the kitchen, white as a sheet. He moves to take my sister from me, but one look at my expression and he backs right off.
“She’ll be alright,” Chiara whispers to him as she pats his arm. “It’s shock, I think.” My instincts shriek once again that I’m missing something important, but with my sister lying unconscious in my arms, I can’t think straight.
This is all my fault.
I should have shut down the marriage bullshit from the start. Dad is living in the past, where arranged marriages were common.
They don’t happen so much these days, but our father has yet to evolve, and I doubt he ever will.
God, I’m a fool.
I lay my baby sister down on the bed in the room she uses when she stays here. Her hair spreads out over the pillow as her eyelids flutter. It seems like only yesterday when we were kids and I promised to keep her safe from our father.
I’ve failed her in so many ways, and even if she forgives me, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.
By the time the doctor arrives, Fina’s awake. She claims she’s okay, says it’s nothing more than low blood sugar, but I ignore her pleas to send the doctor away. I want him to examine her. If only for my peace of mind.
Chiara remains in the room with Fina. I hadn’t realized how close the two of them were. It’s concerning, honestly.
Coco, Chiara’s dog, appears and jumps on the bed for a fuss, and Fina gladly obliges. Then the cat arrives, and before long, Luka shows his face. He’s wearing exercise shorts, so I assume he’s been down in the gym, working out.
I guess I have my wife to thank for helping him recover from what happened. And yes, I’m still pissed about how eager they are to put on a show for all and sundry.
Not that anyone other than me saw them. The guards are under strict instructions to steer clear of the pool area these days. Anyone caught ogling my wife won’t live long, and they know it.
“What’s going on?” Luka looks at Chiara and then at me. Chiara squeezes his hand and smiles reassuringly.
“Fina’s not feeling well. She’ll be alright. It’s probably low blood sugar,” she parrots brightly.
“I wasn’t aware you had a medical degree?” I snipe, but she flips the bird at me.
“Let’s give her some space. I’m sure she doesn’t need us all in here.” Before I can protest, my wife shoves me and Luka out of Fina’s room and slams the door in our faces. I hear the lock engage and contemplate punching the wall, but Luka shrugs.
“Chill, dude, or you’ll be the one needing a doctor.” He slaps me on the arm and saunters off.
Kane grabs me and pulls me away. “He’s right. Doctor Cliff is on his way, ETA fifteen minutes, so relax. Like Chiara says, it’s probably a combination of stress and low blood sugar.”
I know he’s right, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from eating me up inside.
29
