"Fair?" He laughs. The sound is so bitter it makes me physically recoil. "You want to talk about fair? Is it fair that I spent months falling in love with a woman who was lying to me every single time we were together? Is it fair that I'm being forced to marry someone I can barely stand to look at? Is it fair that my entire life has been destroyed because you were too much of a coward to tell me the truth?"
Each question cuts deeper and deeper until I feel like I'm bleeding out right here in the hallway. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you. I know I should have told you sooner. But I love you, Luca. I've loved you since I was sixteen years old, and everything I did?—"
"If you loved me, you would have been honest with me. It was selfish. You wanted what you wanted, and you didn't care who you hurt to get it. I'll be there for the baby. I'll provide for ourchild. I'll be a father. But that's all you're getting from me, Giulia. That's all you have any right to expect."
"So that's it?" I feel a shiver run through me, and I bite my lip, forcing myself to look at him. "We're just going to be strangers who happen to be married?"
"We're going to be exactly what your father wants us to be." He straightens his jacket. "We'll present a united front in public and play the happy couple for the organization. But in private, you need to accept that this isn't a love story. This isn't some romantic fairy tale where the princess gets her prince. This is a legal contract. Nothing more."
"Luca—"
"I have to go." He moves past me, and this time I don't try to stop him. "I'll see you at the wedding, Giulia. Try to smile for the guests."
He walks away, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, and I stand there watching him go until he disappears around the corner. I press my hand against my mouth to stifle the sob that bursts out of me. I can't let anyone hear me—can't let my father or Romeo or any of the guards know that I'm falling apart. But it hurts so much I can barely breathe.
I destroyed the only thing I ever really wanted. And now I'm going to marry him in two days, and he's made it perfectly clear that he'll never forgive me. That he'll never love me again. The best I can hope for is cold civility and shared responsibility for the child growing inside me.
And I have no one to blame but myself.
—
The wedding is heldin the back chapel of the local diocesan church.
My wedding to Alessandro would have been at St. Patrick’s, a huge, practically royal affair with thousands of dollars' worth of flowers and a gown that cost six figures, and a reception to match. My union with Luca is nothing like that.
My father wants it over quickly, made binding, and then moved past as fast as possible. My expensive gown is no more… not that I wanted to wear it, anyway. Instead, a dress is chosen and brought to me, left in my room for me to find when I go upstairs the day before the wedding, in a way that feels like a warning.
Follow through, do this part of your duty at least, or else.
The wedding will be small, just immediate family and a handful of trusted associates. A quiet ceremony to legitimize the situation and move forward.
And the morning of, I stand in my room and stare at my reflection in the mirror, trying to reconcile all of this before I have to go out and pretend that this is the happiest day of my life.
In other circumstances, ones where Luca was in on this with me all along, where we defied everyone to be together, it would be. But instead, I lied to him, and now nothing is the way I once wished it could be.
The dress that was brought up for me is beautiful—ivory silk with delicate lace sleeves, fitted through the bodice and flowing into a simple skirt. Savannah helped me with my hair, curling it and pinning it into an elegant updo, and she helped with my makeup as well. It’s impossible to even tell I’ve been crying more than not over the last three days.
I look like a lovely bride, but I feel like I'm going to my execution.
"You look beautiful," Savannah says from behind me, soft and uncertain. She's been trying to be supportive, but evenshe seems unsure about this whole situation. "Really, Giulia. Stunning."
"Thank you." My voice sounds hollow.
She moves closer, her reflection appearing beside mine in the mirror. "Are you okay?"
The question is so absurd that I almost laugh. Am I okay? I'm about to marry a man who hates me, who told me two days ago that he can barely stand to look at me, and made it clear that our marriage will be nothing but a legal arrangement.
"I'm fine," I say instead. "Just nervous."
"That's normal." She squeezes my shoulder, and I can see the worry in her eyes. "Every bride is nervous on her wedding day."
But not every bride is marrying a man who's being forced into it. Not every bride has destroyed the love of the man she's about to pledge her life to.
There's a knock on the door, and my father enters a moment later. He's wearing a dark suit, his expression unreadable as he looks at me. "It's time," he says simply.
I nod and take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Savannah gives me one last encouraging smile before slipping out of the room, leaving me alone with my father.
"You look appropriate," he says, which is probably the closest thing to a compliment I'm going to get from him. "Remember what we discussed. You'll smile and play the role of the happy bride. You'll give no indication that this marriage is anything other than a love match."
