Davide Amato was respectable. Polished. And painfully ordinary next to the wild, unpredictable fire that was my true love.
Davide stood tall with a confident posture and a well-built frame that demanded attention. His dark, wavy hair brushed just above his shoulders, and a neatly trimmed beard framed his sharp jaw. His eyes—a deep, deceptive brown—often glittered with ambition and a hint of something darker. He dressed with calculated elegance, each outfit curated to amplify his charisma and status.
But I saw through the charm. Through the smiles and sweet words.
Beneath the charm was a man who sought power, not partnership. He wore manners like a mask and hid manipulation behind every compliment. Unfortunately, my parents were blind to it all. They fawned over his potential, his prospects, and his polished name.
“When are you leaving?” Mammina asked, her gaze burning through me like fire.
“This afternoon,” I answered, my voice tight with restrained fury. “His carriage is due in six hours.”
“Be sure to dress appropriately,” she said, each word dipped in condescension.
My temper flared. “What does that mean?”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Something pretty, dear. Something that reflects your station in life—impeccably.”
The rage rose in me like a tide, hot and suffocating. I stared at her, then at Papa, my fingers curling into fists beneath the tablecloth.
They were always watching and meddling, always pushing me toward a future I had no desire to live.
Marriage. Children. Obedience.
I wanted none of it. Not yet. Not like this.
And yet... despite the fire licking at my insides, I knew their interference came from love. Twisted, misguided, suffocating love—but love nonetheless.
That didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
With an exhale, I let my shoulders fall, softening my posture just enough to appear agreeable.
“Of course, Mammina,” I said sweetly, the demure edge in my voice carefully honed. “I’ll wear my finest picnic attire. Wouldn’t want to embarrass the family.”
At precisely two o’clock, I descended the stairs with practiced grace, every step measured, every detail of my appearance curated like armor.
I wore an emerald-green silk gown that clung to my waist and flared with elegance. The low-cut bodice drew attention without apology. Puffy sleeves, delicately embroidered with tiny flowers, added a touch of softness. A wide-brimmed hat, tied with cascading ribbons, sat atop my head, completing the ensemble. Fine gold chains shimmered against my collarbone, and my low-heeled leather shoes clicked lightly against the polished floor.
Davide was already comfortably ensconced in the front parlor, speaking with my parents as if he were already family.
I froze on the final step—my breath caught like a hook in my throat.
“I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage,” Davide said, calm, confident… calculated.
My stomach twisted into knots. Rage, dread, and betrayal surged in equal measure.
Papa replied with a thoughtful hum. “You’re an upstanding young man, Davide. But can you provide for her? Care for her in the way she deserves?”
“Naturally,” Davide said with a self-satisfied smile. “My banking career is quite lucrative.”
I stood just out of sight on the parquet floor, paralyzed. To my left, through the archway, stood the people deciding my future without me. To my right, the door. Escape.
For one wild moment, I considered bolting and running as far as I could, straight back to Balthazar, to passion, to freedom.
But I knew I had to face them—at least for now.
Plastering on a smile, I stepped into the room with feigned delight.
“Why, hello, Lord Amato,” I said, sweeping into the parlor like I hadn’t just overheard my entire fate being bartered away.
