I'm not this person. I'm Giulia Ciresa, the good daughter who does what's expected. I've never broken a rule that mattered or taken a risk that could actually hurt me.
This could destroy everything.
But then I remember Alessandro's hand on my shoulder, and Luca's cold dismissal, the way he looks through me like I'm not even there. I remember that in six months, I'll be married to a man I don't love, and my first time will be a duty instead of a choice. I know I can't back out.
That feeling is only solidified when Marco comes for dinner the next night, and spends the entire meal talking about his expectations for marriage.
"I believe in traditional roles," he says as he digs into his lamb with gusto. "The wife manages the home, raises the children, doesn’t pry too much into business or what her husband is doing. It’s her job to keep the peace and keep everything around her husband pleasant. I look forward to having a wife who has been raised correctly, who knows her place.”
My father nods approvingly. Romeo looks bored. And all I can hear is Marco telling me, in so many words, how he’s going to own me.
I feel like the walls are closing in, like I can’t breathe. When I go up to my room later, I look at the skirt and mask hidden in the back of my closet, and I imagine not going through with it. I imagine knowing the first and only man to touch me will be Marco, or Enzo, or Alessandro.
I can’t do it. I can’t let that be all I ever have.
At dinner Friday night, I wait for the right moment. My father is in a good mood—some deal went well, I can tell by the way he's relaxed in his chair.
“Papa,” I begin, keeping my voice casual. "I was wondering if I could stay with Liesl tomorrow night. She's in the city for the weekend, and we haven't seen each other since school."
He looks up from his wine. "Liesl Baumann?"
"Yes. She has an apartment in Manhattan now. We were going to catch up, maybe go to dinner."
It's not entirely a lie. Liesl does have an apartment in Manhattan. We did go to school together. The lie is that she's expecting me. But my father doesn't know that.
"That's fine," he says. "Just make sure security knows where you'll be."
"Of course. I'll text you the address."
I excuse myself early, claiming I want to pack for tomorrow. In my room, I pull out my phone and stare at Liesl's contact. This is the part I've been dreading. If she doesn’t want to see me, or if she’s not in town, I’m not sure what to do next. Most of my other friends live in their own family mansions outside of the city, not in Manhattan proper.
I call her, my heart pounding.
"Giulia!" Her voice is warm and delighted, and I feel myself relax just a fraction. "Oh my God, I swear I was just thinking about you. How are you?"
"I'm good. Listen, I know this is last-minute, but are you free tomorrow? I'm coming into the city, and I'd love to see you."
"Tomorrow? Yes! Absolutely. Come stay over, we can have a proper catch-up. I've been dying to show you my place."
Relief floods through me. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose?—"
"Don't be ridiculous. I'd love to have you. Come whenever, stay as long as you want. We'll order food, it'll be like old times, except we’re old enough to get away with having wine now. I’ll make some of my security go buy it for us."
“That sounds amazing,” I say on an exhaled breath, feeling a hint of guilt that I’m going to sneak out after we go to bed. "I'll see you tomorrow."
When I hang up, I sit on my bed and stare at nothing. This is really happening. Tomorrow, I'll go to Liesl's apartment, I'll spend time with my friend, normal and safe, and exactly what my father expects. And then, when she's asleep, I'll transform into someone else entirely.
I'll walk out of that apartment and into a world where I'm not Dante Ciresa's daughter.
Where I’m not myself… but someone else, someone with freedom, for the first time in my life.
—
Saturday morning,I pack carefully—normal clothes for the visit with Liesl: pajamas, toiletries, everything my father would expect to see if he checked my bag. Hidden at the bottom, wrapped in tissue paper, are the leather skirt, silk top, and the heels. The wig is in its protective case with the mask. My hands shake as I zip the bag closed.
At breakfast, Romeo is watching me. It makes me nervous, because he knows me too well. "You're going to Liesl's?" he asks.
"Yes. Just for the night."
