“Shall we?” he asks, and I take his arm. I am about to suggest we make out in the pool house, when he walks toward our parents.
“Ah, Eliana, Ethan, come join us,” My father says, calling a waiter who offers us drinks. I take a glass of white wine, and Ethan grabs a beer.
“It’s good to see you, again, Sir,” he says to my father, shaking his hand. “Eliana here is quite the dancer.” Ethan smiles down at me. I flush in response.
“None of that ‘Sir’ nonsense, Diego will do just fine.”
“It would be such a shame if you two hadn’t hit it off,” Ethan’s mother chimes in, her eyes gleaming.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I arch a brow.
“I haven’t told you? Ethan here is going to be your husband.” my father announces this like he’s just told me I won the lottery.
My smile fades. I look up at Ethan and pull my hand from his. I let out a mirthless laugh and look at my father. “Husband? You’re out of your mind. You don’t get to make those kinds of decisions for me.”
“Oh, but I do, little one, because that is the way we do things in our world.” My father steps toward me. “And if you want those plans of yours to succeed, you should sound more enthusiastic about it.”
“How dare you?” I hiss.
My father laughs. Ethan seems unfazed. Surely, he’s not that stupid.
I look toward my mother. “Did you know about this?”
“It is the way we do things, Eliana.” Her eyes are cold and distant.
“Well, it isn’t the way I do things,” I say through gritted teeth as I leave the garden. Ethan calls after me, and it only makes me walk faster into the house, the music fading behind me.
I lock my door, ignoring the incessant knocking, refusing to open it even for Zev. The one thing I have always held on to be my freedom.
When I was eight years old, my father told me that I shouldn’t climb trees, that those activities were for boys, and I should act more ladylike. I climbed trees every single day until he had them cut and replaced with hedges. But even that never stopped me, I climbed those hedges, getting scrapes and scratches all over my body until those hedges were only a contorted version of what they used to be. They were replaced eventually, and I didn’t bother climbing them. I’d made my statement. It was enough, and I intend to do the same again now.
* * *
I arrive fifteen minutes early for my lunch date with Casey and decide to take a walk along the promenade to clear my head instead of waiting in the restaurant. I didn’t join my family for breakfast, choosing to stay in bed long after midday. I near a flight of stairs leading down to the shore. There’s something about the sea on a summer day, the sun shining on the crystalline blue that makes everything a little better. The ocean has always been my escape in a world that wants nothing more than to clip my wings. I love the fact that it can never be tamed or fully explored.
My chest feels tight, the uneasiness stemming from the revelations of last night. It’s the twenty first century, arranged marriages aren’t a thing, but when your father is a criminal and a thug, I guess things are different.
“Hey, El,” an out of breath voice calls from behind me. I turn around, and it’s Ethan leaning against the railing in shorts and a wife beater, sweat covering his chest, and his black hair hanging over his eyes. I want to wipe the grin off his now less appealing face.
“It’s Eliana,” I snap. “I don’t believe I know you well enough for nicknames.”
“Eliana, then,” he shrugs. “Look, about last night.”
“I don’t want to talk about last night. I don’t want to talk to you period.”
“That’s unavoidable, don’t you think?”
“No offense, but this,” I motion between us, “is not going to happen.”
He crosses his muscular arms across his chest, bemused. “I like your spirit, but we both know that things don’t work that way in our world. I know you leave in a week. I get that. I support that, but when you’re done getting whatever it is that you’re grappling with out of your system, you’re gonna end up right back here, married to me.”
My mouth drops, and my eyes widen.
“And when that happens, I’d like us to at least be mature about it.”
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to come back here. If my father messes with the job I have right now, I’ll find another. I’ll sleep on the fucking street if I have to.”
He shakes his head then grips my chin between his fingers. Suddenly, he isn’t so charming anymore. He’s a puppet. “Let’s not make this difficult, sweetheart. Your dramatics don’t work on me.” I pull away and my hand connects with his cheek. He smirks it off, rubbing the spot where I slapped him.
