Page 27 of Stroke of Luck

“You good now?” Othello asks with a hint of humor in his voice.

“Hell no, but we need to get this over with,” I grumble, handing my glasses off to another waiter.

Othello takes my hand and twines our fingers together, giving me a reassuring squeeze as we start walking. My father’s the first one to notice me, and with how shocked he looks, I know we haven’t seen each other in a long time.

“Cielo?!” Father says, drawing my mother’s attention.

It takes her a moment to realize it’s me, but once she does, she gasps sharply, covering her mouth with her hands in horror. Father wraps his arm around her back as if supporting her for fear she might faint.

“What have you done to yourself?!” Mother sobs, clutching her chest. “What happened to my beautiful baby girl?”

Out of everything that I thought might happen, this is not the direction I thought it would go. It didn’t even cross my mind that they might not know what I look like with the tattoos and the dreadlocks. Now I know for sure that I’ve somehow found a way to free myself of them, and this arranged marriage is a way they’ve concocted to get me back under their thumb.

“Why don’t we take this discussion somewhere more private,” Father murmurs as he leads Mother out the side exit.

Glancing up at Othello, his face is devoid of emotion, making it impossible for me to know what he’s thinking. I look around the room to see if I can find the others, but the room is so full it’s hard to spot anyone. Apparently deciding that we’re going to pursue having this chat with my parents, Othello pulls me along with him out of the ballroom. This exit leads to a small seating area off the main path of the hallway where we won’t be disturbed. Mother sits in a chair with her head in her hands, a Kleenex at the ready for the tears that she’s supposedly shedding over my appearance.

“Cielo, what is the meaning of this?” Father snaps at me, standing protectively next to mother.

I gape at him like a fish for a few moments, not even sure where to start with things. “You didn’t know?”

“Do you think I would be like this if I knew that you’d ruined yourself? Skyler, how could you do this to us? He’ll never want to marry you looking like some homeless whore,” Mother cries, lifting her head to look at me. “Is this why you refused to come home in the past four years? I told you those friends of yours were a terrible influence on you.”

Just as I'm about to tell my mother where she can shove her disappointment, Othello speaks. “Don’t you think you are being unreasonable?”

Mother glares at him and shoots to her feet. “She’s my daughter. I have every right to be upset about this. How could you even be willing to think about marrying her in this state?” she shrieks, lashing out and grabbing one of my dreadlocks in her hands, yanking as if she’s going to rip it off my head.

“Ow, that fucking hurts, Maria,” I growl, trying to shake her off, but a large hand descends on my mother’s wrist.

“Madam, I would ask that you unhand my fiancée,” Othello’s voice sounds, filling the space with his anger.

Shocked, Mother stares at him, having never been treated this way before. “How dare you manhandle me?!”

“Then remove your hold on her. Skyler is mine to protect, even from her own parents. The moment she accepted my offer she no longer became your concern,” Othello announces, pulling me back against his chest.

“You would dare to put your hands on my wife? What’s to stop you from harming my daughter?” Father interjects, stepping in front of Mother, anger written all over his face. “Give me back my daughter. The arrangement is off.”

It’s at this point that the others join us, fanning out behind Othello as he laughs at my father. “Now you’re concerned about who your daughter might be marrying? Seems a little too late to back out of a deal that your mother is threatening me for and that’s been announced to the press, don’t you think?”

“You haven’t married her yet; she can leave anytime she wants to. So let her go!” Father demands, his hand reaching out to me.

I frown at him and my mother. “Seriously, you have to be kidding. Why the hell would I want to come back home to you when I’ve finally made it on my own?”

“Skyler, you don’t know what you’re saying. Why wouldn’t you want to come home?” Mother asks, brows furrowed.

“Look, I might not remember much about the past four years, but if I haven’t been home at all in that time, then I’m going to trust that I don’t want to come back now. All that would happen is you trying to turn me into your clone, which will never happen, Maria,” I spit, causing my mother to recoil like I’ve slapped her with my words. “Besides, Othello and I have already made an agreement about our situation. I’ve got a contract and everything to make sure everyone involved keeps their word.”

“Did you tell him about the inability to be faithful to one partner? That you’ve cheated and slept around on everyone you’ve been with?” Mother lashes out, her lip curled up in a snarl. “Even if you have a contract, you won’t be able to follow it. Then you’ll be right back with us.”

“We are all fully aware of her preference for multiple partners and have found a solution to that as well,” Enzo cuts in, his voice rough with anger. “Now, I think it’s time for you both to leave. You’ve done quite enough this evening.”

Mother begins to splutter at him, but Father grabs her arm and drags her away, not even looking at me.

No matter how she tries to hide it, I can tell that what’s happened with her parents upset her. Paolo and Giorgio take her back into the ballroom, trying to distract her while freeing me up to deal with business. I turn to Enzo and Remo, who still look pissed about what they’ve just witnessed.

“How could they think there's something wrong with her just because she has tattoos and funky hair?” Enzo growls.

Remo claps him on the back, shaking his head. “Those that have parents that actually love and support them are few and far between these days. I know my old man never gave a shit about me once Mom left us because of his drinking. They aren’t the best parents, but they’re not the worst.”