The kind of answer that closes a door and locks it.
Papa nods too quickly. "Good. That's good. I'm glad to hear?—"
"The wedding will take place in five days," Nico interrupts.
Five days.
My stomach drops. I keep my face blank.
Five days to prepare for a marriage to a man I've never met.
Whatever that means.
"After we leave," Nico continues, "a woman will come to assist you. She'll help with the dress. Whatever else needs to be done on your end."
I nod. "All right."
"The ceremony will be small. Family only." His dark eyes hold mine. "No party afterward. No reception. Bruno wants just the ceremony."
Just the ceremony.
No celebration. No pretense that this is anything other than what it is.
I appreciate the honesty, in a strange way. At least they're not dressing this up in ribbons and calling it romance.
"I understand," I say.
Lorenzo rises from his chair. The movement is fluid. Graceful. Like a predator uncoiling.
"Do you have questions, Miss Romano?"
A thousand. A million.
Who is Bruno Sartori now? What happened to him? Why does he want just the ceremony? What am I walking into?
But I don't ask any of them.
Questions show weakness. Questions reveal what you don't know. And right now, in this room, I can't afford to look weak.
"No," I say. "I don't have questions."
Lorenzo's mouth curves. Not quite a smile. Something closer to approval.
"Smart," he says quietly. Almost to himself.
Nico moves toward the door. The two men fall into step behind him.
The front door closes. A car engine starts. Fades into the distance.
Silence fills the room.
Gianna lets out a shaky breath. Her hand finds mine, squeezes hard.
Claudio hasn't moved from the fireplace. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping.
Papa sinks into a chair. His head drops into his hands.
Bruno Sartori needs a wife.
