Alessia
My head’s still spinning from the shock of the engagement and from Val’s even crazier announcement that the wedding is only two weeks away. It’s no secret I was promessa to Valentino, but I was supposed to have a few more years. The agreement was clear—the wedding wouldn’t take place before my twenty-fifth birthday, which is three years away.
Yesterday, after leaving the Comiso’s house, I went straight to my father, demanding to know why the plan had changed. I begged him to make Valentino wait. I shouldn’t have done it. I know better than to provoke his temper. My father not only refused, he grabbed my arm so tightly it left bruises. Then he hit me.
The sting of the slap, the ache of the bruises, still lingers. It’s a reminder of how little control I have over my own life. There’s no escaping it. My time’s up. In two weeks, I’ll be married to a man I despise.
I’m trying to put it aside for right now. I’m due at the wedding planner’s office for a little over an hour, which should give me enough time to swing by Starlight Studios to drop off a new batch of photographs. They’re selling faster than I can take them.
“I think these are your best yet,” Ophelia says, pointing to a picture of the sunset from the Race St. Pier, her eyes lighting up with admiration.
“Thank you,” I reply with a modest smile. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“It’s more than that, Allie,” she insists as she continues looking through the digital images. “Each one tells a story, captures a moment in time.”
“That’s what I love about photography,” I say, my voice softening. “I’m able to freeze moments in time, capturing their beauty forever.”
As I reach for another photograph, I catch Ophelia’s gaze shifting to my hand. Instinctively, I curl my fingers, trying to hide the glint of my ring.
“Did you get engaged?” she asks, a hint of surprise in her voice.
A warm flush spreads across my cheeks. “I did.”
“Oh, let me see the ring,” she says, her excitement genuine.
I hesitate briefly before slowly uncurling my fingers to reveal the ring.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “He has great taste."
“Thank you,” I murmur, touched by her sincerity.
Then, she lights up with an idea. “Why don’t we have a gallery show? I’m sure your fiancé is thrilled about your success and would love the chance to celebrate not only your success here but also your engagement.”
The mention of Valentino sends an unwelcome shiver through me. The thought of him in a space that's entirely mine is unsettling. “I’ll mention it to him,” I say and pull out my phone, hoping to dodge any more questions about my personal life. “Unfortunately, I have to run. I have an appointment with the wedding planner.”
“These will be on the website by the end of the week,” Ophelia assures me.
“Thank you.” I wave as I leave the gallery.
Somehow, I have to keep this part of my life hidden from Val for as long as I can, because if he finds out, I’m terrified of what he might do.
* * *
With fifteen minutes to spare, I arrive at the wedding planner’s office. A beep sounds as I pull the door open and step inside.
“Ms. Moretti,” Shannon gushes, her voice dripping with enthusiasm as she practically floats toward me. ‘I’m absolutely thrilled to be planning your special day!’ Her tone is just a little too sugary, her excitement clearly rehearsed.
“Thank you, Shannon. I appreciate you fitting me in at the last minute,” I reply, forcing myself to sound gracious.
“Your wedding is going to be the event of the year,” she gushes, her tone dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. “There was no way I’d pass up the opportunity. I cleared my schedule right away.”
Two weeks to plan the event of the year , and I can’t even bring myself to care. Why should I? It’s not like I want this marriage to happen. Valentino texted me, telling me to choose whatever I wanted, reminding me that money was no object. I’ll make it look special, if nothing else, because that’s all this is. An illusion.
I plaster on my practiced smile, “Where do we start?”
“Your fiancé asked me to wait until he arrived to begin,” she informs me, glancing at her notes.
“Pardon me?” I ask, certain I misheard.
“Mr. Comiso called this morning,” she continues. “He asked that we wait for him before we get started.”
Right on cue, the door swings open. Valentino strolls in, dressed in his usual Alexander Amosu suit, his cellphone pressed to his ear.
“Just get it done, Angelo,” he barks an order into the phone. “I’ll be unavailable the rest of the day.”
He disconnects the call. His black eyes lock with mine, instantly filling the space with his presence.
“If you have to work, I can handle this on my own,” I say, maintaining an air of politeness.
“There’s nothing more important than planning our wedding,” Val replies, leaning in to kiss me.
At the last second, I turn my head, and his lips land on my cheek instead.
“We’re not alone,” I murmur, casting a glance at Shannon. “Please forgive him. He’s very eager to be married,” I add with a light, forced laugh.
“Men,” Shannon says, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Her gaze shifts to Val, and in that brief moment, something passes between them. It’s subtle, but enough to send a wave of unease through me. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Shannon settles in beside Val on the plush leather couch, sliding closer than necessary even though there’s a perfectly good chair just a few feet away. Her knee presses against his leg, and neither of them bothers to pull away—or maybe they just don’t care. Leaning into him, she arches her back slightly, pushing her chest forward as she flips open a large binder.
The whirlwind of wedding planning starts—colors, flowers, music, place settings. I’d thought maybe I could bring myself to care but watching them together makes it impossible.
Shannon’s hand rests on Val’s arm as they discuss the linens, her fingers lingering far too long, tracing small circles as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s painfully obvious they’re comfortable with each other. He doesn’t even bother to glance in my direction. Why would he? To him, I’m nothing more than a business arrangement, just another deal to seal.
We’re strangers bound by a ring, nothing more.
Instead of fighting it, I let them take over. The choices, the plans—they mean nothing to me. I’m just waiting for this charade to end.
“Have you chosen your dress?” Shannon asks as if she suddenly remembered I was here.
“Not yet.”
Her hand flies up to her chest, her expression theatrical. “What are you waiting for? There’ll barely be enough time to get your fittings done and have any alterations made.”
“I have an appointment tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Val says and takes my hand. “I’ll go with you.”
“No,” I say firmly. “You can’t see the dress until the ceremony.”
Val raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “I didn’t realize you believed in old wives’ tales.”
“It’s tradition,” Shannon chimes in, placing her hand on his thigh.
“Well,” Val says. “I’m not much for traditions. Are you, sweetheart? ”
“Whatever makes you happy,” I reply, knowing there’s no point in arguing.
“Let’s move on,” Shannon says, pulling out fabric swatches.
Without hesitation, Valentino picks up the most expensive one. “This,” he declares with certainty, “is perfect."
I glance at the swatch, feigning interest. “It’s lovely.”
“Lovely? It’s magnificent,” Shannon exclaims. “Shantung silk is the finest linen you can get.”
“All eyes will be on this event. I’ll accept nothing less than the best,” Valentino adds.
Shannon nods, clearly impressed. “Of course, Mr. Comiso. Let’s move on to the floral arrangements.”
“I want roses, lilies, orchids.” Valentino’s eyes gleam as he starts rattling off flowers.
Shannon taps furiously on her tablet, her focus entirely on the details, while my mind drifts. For so long, I held onto a fragile hope—that somehow, I wouldn’t be forced into this. That I’d find a way out, or maybe Val would change his mind. That hope, faint as it was, was the only thing that kept me going.
Part of me even held onto the impossible idea that Antonio might somehow come back for me, that he’d rescue me from this nightmare. My mind drifts back to high school—to those stolen moments when it felt like we had all the time in the world. To the last day he ever spoke to me.
"We can't keep doing this," Antonio says as the smile disappears from his face. "Hiding. Sneaking around. It's been six months, . I want to take you out on a real date."
I want the same things, too, but I don’t see any way for that to happen. "Antonio,” I say softly, his name carrying all the uncertainty I can’t fully express.
"I'm serious," he says, using his finger to lift my head. "I want to go to your father. I'll tell him straight up that I want to date his daughter."
"No. It won't work." I shake my head, hoping he doesn’t press the issue.
"Why not?" he asks. "I'm not scared of him. I'll tell him how I feel about you. I'll make him understand."
I’m afraid of what my father will do to him if he tells him about us. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to him. "You don't understand, Antonio. He won't listen. He won't approve."
"How do you know that if we don't try?"
"Because I know him,” I whisper. "He's controlling. He'll never let me be with anyone he doesn't choose."
"I don't care," he replies, his voice soft but firm. "I'll do whatever it takes to make this work. You deserve more than hiding and sneaking around."
His beautiful brown eyes draw me in. They make me want to believe in the future he sees for us, but reality is too strong and pulls me back. "I don't know if it's possible."
"We'll make it possible," he says.
But now, I see how blind I’ve been. Antonio was the one person I thought truly cared—the only one I couldn’t let go of. But when I needed him most, he walked away, proving he was no different from anyone else. That truth cuts deeper than anything. To him, I was just a fling, someone to forget. And the void he left behind gave Val the perfect opportunity to convince my father I belonged with him.
“, what do you think of this centerpiece?” Shannon asks, holding up a design that I actually like.
Before I can answer, Valentino interrupts. “It’s too simple. We need something more extravagant, something that reflects our status.”
I clench my jaw, swallowing my frustration. “Of course, Val. Whatever you think is best.”
He grins, satisfied with my answer. “See? It’s not that hard doing things my way.”
As the meeting drags on, my patience wears thin. Valentino’s arrogance is suffocating. The way they openly flirt and brush against each other only adds to the pressure. Inside, I’m seething, but on the outside, I keep up the facade of a happy bride-to-be.
Finally, Shannon gathers her things, still beaming. “I think we’ve made great progress today. I’ll send over the finalized plans for your approval.”
“You have my number,” Valentino says, standing. Instead of shaking her hand, he kisses her cheek. “Call me, and I’ll stop over and pick them up personally,” he says, his voice low.
“That sounds perfect,” she giggles, blushing again.
I struggle to not roll my eyes.
As soon as we get outside, I turn to Val. “You should’ve taken her in the back room and fucked her.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. “And what makes you think I haven’t?”
“I figured as much,” I mutter, looking away, my stomach twisting.
“She’s convenient.” Val shrugs, completely indifferent. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. You’re the one who’ll be in my bed every night.”
I clench my jaw, trying to hold back the bile from rising in the back of my throat. “Right,” I say, my voice hollow. “Lucky me.”