Anna's expression hardened. "I read the articles. After that anniversary party scandal broke. 'Art Teacher Forced Into Mafia Marriage.' Is that what happened? You were kidnapped?"
The question hung between us. How much to tell? How honest to be?
I took a breath and decided on the truth. All of it.
"My sister drugged me the morning of her wedding. When I woke up, I was in a wedding dress. My father forced me to marry Cesare Monti in Bianca's place because she'd run away."
Anna's mouth fell open. "Your father—Giovanni—he drugged you?"
"Bianca did the actual drugging. But yes, he knew. He orchestrated it."
"That's—Jesus, Paola. That's kidnapping. Forced marriage. You should have called the police. The FBI. Anyone."
"I tried. But by the time I understood what was happening, I was married. And my father threatened that people would die if the alliance fell apart. So I—I stayed."
"You stayed with a man who forced you to marry him?"
"At first, I didn't have a choice. But then—" I struggled to find the right words. "Then I got to know him. Cesare. He gave me choices when he didn't have to. He protected me when Viktor Kozlov tried to use me against him. He—" My hand drifted to my stomach. "He became my partner. My husband. Not just in name."
Anna's eyes dropped to where my hand rested. "Are you—?"
"Ten weeks. Yes."
"Oh my God. Paola. You're pregnant. With a mafia boss's baby."
"With my husband's baby. With Cesare's baby."
"Do you hear yourself? Three months ago, you were teaching watercolors to kids. Now you're pregnant and married to a man who runs an organized crime empire."
"I know how it sounds—"
"It sounds insane. It sounds like Stockholm syndrome."
The accusation stung because I'd wondered the same thing. "Maybe it started that way. Maybe in the beginning, I was just trying to survive. But Anna, I love him. Really love him. Not because he trapped me, but because of who he is beneath all the mafia stuff."
"Who he is? Paola, he's a criminal."
"He's a man who chose me over his empire. Who took a bullet protecting his brother. Who cries when we talk about the baby." My voice gained strength. "He's complicated. Yes, he's done terrible things. But he's also capable of tremendous love. And he loves me. Completely."
Anna was quiet for a long moment, studying me. "You really believe that."
"I know it."
"And the baby? You're happy about it?"
"Terrified. But yes, happy."
She reached across the table, took my hand. "I'm still processing. Still—I don't know how to feel about all this. But I can see you're happy. I can hear it in your voice."
"I am. I never thought I would be. But I am."
"Does he treat you well? Really?"
"He does. He gives me freedom, choices. He listens. He's trying to be better than his father was."
"And if you wanted to leave?"
The question caught me off guard. "What?"
