Page 4 of The Mafia’s Girlfriend

“Why not now?” She crossed and uncrossed her legs, clearly uncomfortable in this heat. While she didn’t need my permission to go back to the pool where we’d been swimming before lunch, she seemed to choose my company over solitude. Being the daughter of a high-ranking capo earned her some benefits, after all. My friendship mattered more.

“Don’t be stupid.”

She huffed a tired laugh. “I’m not. What’s stupid is pacing out here in the heat. Go back and forth all you want”—she flicked a finger side to side, indicating my route, at the same time she flipped her honey-hued waves over her shoulder—“but it’s not going to equal running away from Antonio.”

I grimaced. She spoke the truth, but I didn’t have to like it.

“I know it’s not ideal, but you can’t avoid it.”

But what if I could? Somehow. Some way.

Surrendering myself in an arranged marriage was bad enough. But to him? A lifetime with Antonio Marchese, next in line to rule one of the biggest crime families in Florida?

No.

“It’s just how it is,” she reminded me unnecessarily.

Arranged marriages were the norm, but I wanted so desperately to be the one to break free. To snap out of this mold and make my life my own, dammit.

“And if you’re going to have to end up marrying him, why avoid him now?”

“Because I have to,” I shouted. As soon as I heard my raised voice, those hot words issued at my longest confidante, I wished I could take them back. Maintaining complete control over my emotions was a must. All my life, I perfected an icy blankness because I learned early on, since my mother died when I was a toddler, that showing emotions was nothing but a weakness.

On this matter, though, I was at my wit’s end. I couldn’t suck it up and lock it all in. Rage boiled beneath the surface of my skin. My heart raced with unspent adrenaline. The mere idea of being forced to Antonio—a concept I was first informed of before I was even an adult—incited that kind of a reaction.

Fight or flight.

Resist or flee.

I couldn’t beat the system. I wasn’t naïve. I’d grown up as the princess of the Giordino family. Women simply didn’t escape arrangements like this. From the bottom of my heart, I knew there was no chance I could tell my father no thanks and have my way with it.

But can I run?

“Emmaline.” Krista sighed after stating my name in that exasperated tone. “What are you thinking? I know you’re freaked out, but you look...wild.”

“Desperate?” I offered instead. “I am desperate.”

“Again.” She pressed her hands together and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her thighs. “This isn’t news.”

“I know that.”

“This isn’t the first time the Marcheses have stopped over to talk to Damon.”

I nodded, pacing faster as if I could burn out all my energy walking nowhere quicker. “I overheard that they’re moving the wedding to the end of the summer.”

Krista shrugged with a pitiful smirk on her face. “Gonna happen sooner or later.”

“I’d prefer later,” I said.

“Why?” She sat up to cross her arms, frowning hard. “Why put it off? You can’t get out of marrying him.”

I’d start a war if I did. I’d never risk others’ lives like that. “Because my wedding will be the start of the end of my life.” I stopped and let my shoulders slump. “And I haven’t even lived.”

Others might argue that I had a high life of all my desires met. I was raised with wealth. I grew up in this enormous mansion with a full house staff. I never had to want for anything. Some might call me spoiled, but I lacked one precious thing so many others in the world took for granted—freedom.

Freedom to go somewhere and be alone, just to be without soldiers and guards in my shadow. Freedom to meet strangers who I could deem worthy of my time and attention. Freedom to fall in love. To make love. To experience so many simple yet significant things that would forever be out of my reach after I was Mrs. Antonio Marchese.

I can’t do this. Bile rose up my throat, and I rubbed my hand over my stomach as it knotted and churned.