My throat closed. “You cannot possibly be serious.”
Rina giggled. “Of course we are. You cannot be married inthat.” She wrinkled her nose at my plain black dress. “You look like a servant,” she sneered, like hard work was something to be ashamed of.
“At least a servant would have more freedoms than I will,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
Zia Elisabetta tsked. “Tongue like a blade. Good. You will need that with this family, though I doubt you have the brains to know when to keep your mouth shut.”
Her daughter giggled. “And when to keep it open.” Sheset her hands on her hips, her eyes turning flinty. “Now, undress. We don’t have all day.”
I hesitated only long enough to calculate whether refusing would accomplish anything.
Since that would only waste energy and delay the inevitable, I peeled the black dress off before either of them could touch me, feeling more exposed in my plain black undergarments than I would have been naked. Rina shoved me down into a chair, and brushed out my hair until it shone, then spent an hour curling and twisting, pinning every single dark strand in place with overly aggressive jabs.
Next came make up, then I was forced to strip naked, with a fair amount of blushing—I was wrong earlier about feeling more exposed in my underwear—and ordered to slip on a set of white, lacy underthings so flimsy, I couldn’t see the sense in bothering.
“Finally. Now the dress.” An overly enthusiastic Rina fussed with stays and hooks and buttons, both of them dragging the ridiculous confection up over my hips, lacing the corset until breathing became negotiable.
“You are very small,” Rina complained, tugging at the stays. “We should have made extra adjustments.”
“I’m not sure this is necessary,” I managed to grit out. “I need air to survive, you know.”
“Tighter. She must look perfect,” Zia Elisabetta commanded, as if I wasn’t even here. “The whole family will talk if she does not meet the Don’s expectations.”
The whole family would talk no matter what I wore.
And I hardly saw why this mattered. Surely, they knew what a complete and utter mockery this was of anything resembling an actual marriage.Surely, they knew… I swallowed then.
Swallowed down the rush of blind panic, the fear and helplessness I’d been choking on for days.
And reminded myself of the only thing that was true.
This. Was. Only. A. Show.
When they were done stripping away every vestige of what made me Emberline DiRavello, I barely recognized myself in the gilt mirror.
The dress transformed me into someone other than a female who was more comfortable throwing knives than wearing heels. The bodice hugged my ribs like a jeweled cage, forcing my shoulders back, my chin up. The skirt cascaded to the floor in a waterfall of white, whispering with every tiny movement. My dark hair was a confection of curls and pearls and strands of silver thread.
I looked like a bride who had never thought about escape routes or what color blood looked on marble. But she was still in there, behind my fear-filled eyes, clawing to get out.
“There,” Rina stepped back, pleased. “A perfect white lily, ready to be debased.”
“A lily with a temper,” Zia Elisabetta added, her nose wrinkling. “I can see the anger burning in your eyes.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You must behave tonight,bambina.There are expectations.”
Aaaand… here came the speech I’d been dreading. Manners. Obedience.
Playing by their rules.
“What expectations?” I blinked fast, like I had something stuck in my eye.
Zia Elisabetta and Rina exchanged one of those looks I’d never fully understood. The ones where females shared an entire conversation contained inside a snarky half-smile anda cruel laugh. The ones that always left me on the outside, wondering what had just happened.
“You know of the sheets on the marriage bed?” Elisabetta asked, wickedness dancing in her eyes as adrenaline pumped through my system. “Surely your mother explained our ancient customs to you?”
“My mother’s been dead longer than my father, so no, I don’t know about...the sheets.” What in the fuck were they even talking about? Like…was this some big, scary female-centric secret, and why had I ever agreed to this wedding in the first place?
“The sheets on the bed,” Rina explained slowly, like she was speaking to a child. “White linen. There will be a set laid out before you and the groom are locked inside this room to consummate your vows. One of us will remove them in the morning for inspection.”
I stared at them blankly.
