My dress, a tight nightmare with a corset and an A-line skirt, digs into my flesh mercilessly. Chandeliers shine bright above me, giving me no choice but to sit in the spotlight, just as my father intended when he put together this party.
He’s standing to my left now, gulping down wine, talking business with the otherCapihe invited tonight, not concerned in the slightest with the daughter he disappointed repeatedly.
I’ve grown rather tired of wearing my mask, especially since he came home and confirmed the list Cesare mentioned was real and then organized this whole thing to let hisCapi’ssons know I’m on the market.
Ms. Donatello called to tell me she tried changing his mind, but for whatever reason, he seemed determined. He wants me married, and he wants it fast.
Glimmering eyes glance at my cleavage. Criminals of varying ages—from men in their forties all the way to someone who’s sixty-five—watch me like hawks.
But being watched feels different tonight. Different from the way it has been lately, when Mikhail was on my trail. This auction—because that’s what it is—disgusts me. Being sized up by all these people is just too much. It makes me want to dig a hole and hide there for the rest of the night.
Maybe it was better before, because the monster you know feels safer than the ones you don’t.
Detached from what’s going on around me, I continue to stare at the piano until my father, of all people, approaches me first. And he’s not alone.
“Good,” he says in place of a greeting. “Alessandro, meet my daughter, Cecilia.”
I swallow, taking in the man’s rigid features and huge form. Like others here, his eyes are wide and troubled, the kind you see in true crime documentaries and hope to never meet out on the street. The way he’s dressed tells me he likes spending money more than he has good taste.
“A pleasure,” Alessandro says, grinning, flashing two golden teeth on the left side of his mouth.
I don’t reciprocate the smile. “Hi.”
“Alessandro is Lorenzo’s son. His father is retiring soon, and he’s about to take charge of the family business,” my father tells me, as if I should give a damn. I know what he wants—he expects me to act impressed, to smile and look approachable, but all I can think of is getting away from him and this man.
“Which is why I think it’s time I picked a good woman to have my back,” Alessandro says, looking me up and down.
“Well, then I wish you luck,” I say. “Good people are hard to find, especially when they come from families like ours. There’s not much kindness left in us.”
My father frowns, but before he can say anything, Alessandro laughs. “You’re not wrong. Although I have to tell you, I’m an optimist. And I usually get what I want.” The words are laced with subtext, and it’s hard not to be appalled. Not when he rolls his jaw from side to side, revealing those unusual teeth and the little sanity he probably has.
After a short, uncomfortable pause, my father says, “Cecilia, tell the man about your piano lessons. I’m sure he’d like to know about what you do in your free time.”
I offer him a wintry smile. “I’ve been playing piano since I was a child. I’m extraordinarily good at it, and since I intend on making it my career, marriage isn’t really in my cards. I’m sorry if you came here thinking otherwise.”
“I understand,” he says, throwing my father an amused look, as if I’m not standing right next to them. Pure anger rises in my throat. “But I, for example, wouldn’t mind allowing my wife this pleasure from time to time. I could buy her a piano at home,” Alessandro continues, smooth like a bull in a china shop.
“No, see, I don’t think you understand at all?—”
“You’ll have to excuse her,” my father chimes in, losing his patience. “She’s not feeling well. I’m sure you two will catch up another time.”
I watch as Alessandro throws me that awful smile again before returning to the rest of the party. My father and I remain alone for the first time in weeks, and honestly, I don’t even know what to say. There is too much I want to throw in his face, too much I need him to understand?—
“I told you to make an effort tonight,” he mutters.
Shaking my head, I don’t bother hiding my anger anymore, consequences be damned. “Since you’re so eager to give me ahusband, I don’t see a point in obeying you again. My new master is probably somewhere in this crowd.”
He blinks, taken aback by my tone. I’ve never spoken to him this way, and for the first time in my life, I am not sure why. Where would I be now if I hadn’t been such a doormat?
Probably dead,a sardonic voice answers for me in my head. Still a better fate than what I’m going through now.
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “You may not see it now, but I’m doing what’s best for you.”
“You promised me,” I snap between clenched teeth. “Said you’d let me carry on with my piano?—”
He takes a step forward, his alcohol-infused breath reaching me. I don’t step back. If he wants to slap me here, so be it. I’m done.“Raise your voice at me again, Cecilia, and I’ll drag you to the altar with Carlos Bandini instead.” The old widower, he means—one of hisCapi.
I frown, his threat registering more than I’d like. Maybe confronting him like this wasn’t the best call. Being able to at least choose my husband would still be something, right? Tears spring in my eyes at how pathetic I sound.
