Chapter Seven
Vida
S tanding in front of the mirror, I try my best to form a genuine smile, but no matter how much I try, it’s not working. After talking to Lisa on the phone once Isabella left, I knew that I could do this. While I didn’t need her blessing, getting it gave me strength.
Doing the last thing I ever thought I’d have to do, I pull out the picture from the back of my nightstand drawer, the one I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at since Adam died. I need to apologize, for everything, but especially for this.
“I will not throw our lives away. I will remember every plan, every date, every dream we’ve ever had and ever made,” I whisper, looking down at his smiling face and wishing he was here.
“I will not love anyone that isn’t you, Adam, I promise,” I add before hugging his picture to my chest and then putting it away.
Lisa told me I shouldn’t punish myself by locking my heart away, but is it really a punishment? Adam was my whole world. My heart isn’t capable of loving anyone else the way I loved him, even if I tried.
A knock on the door breaks me from my thoughts and I take a deep breath before telling them I’m coming.
Time to get this over with, I guess.
“Sorry Izzy, I just . . .” I start, my words leaving me as I open the door and come face-to-face with a figure that is definitely not my big sister.
“Hello,” I say, looking up into piercing brown eyes.
The man before me is tall, probably close to six feet, with tattoos covering his neck. I can’t quite make out what they are, but from the way they get lost under the collar of his black dress shirt, I assume they cover more of his body as well. His black tailored suit fits him like a second skin, and all I can think is ‘how is he breathing in that?’ His neatly knotted black silk tie rests perfectly on his chest, instantly making me wonder how someone can tie one so neatly. I couldn’t even do it if I had a gun to my head, not that I’ve tried. His watch and rings look expensive, almost traditional even, giving away who he is; the man I’m set to marry.
“You’re making me stay in this shithole for way too long. Come down for dinner,” he states, his voice void of any emotions.
“Excuse me?” I ask, shocked. He didn’t just say what I think he said, did he?
“Do I look like a fucking radio? Get downstairs and let’s get this dinner over with. I have other places to be,” he says, his emotions unwavering.
“I will be down when I choose to be, and I do not appreciate your tone,” I state, trying my best to stay calm.
Who the fuck does he think he is? Coming into my house and calling it a shithole. He has no right, and where in the world does he have to be at this hour? Gah, it’s not like I even care.
He chuckles, the sound bringing me out of my head. He stares at me with a look of annoyance or disgust and cocks his head to the side. “It’s pathetic that you think I care about what you appreciate. I don’t want to be here and you’re making my stay longer by hiding out up here.”
The fucking nerve of this bastard!
“I’ll be out in a few minutes. You can leave,” I grit out, folding my arms and deciding not to continue all this back and forth with this rude prick.
“I didn’t come here to stand outside your door like I’m your butler, so . . .” he says, his eyes narrowing on me. He moves out of the way and gestures for me to come out.
I stare at him for a few seconds, hating him more and more as the seconds tick by. All I want to do is call off this dinner and the wedding. If it wasn’t the only way to keep Donato away from the people I love, I would. Marrying a man like him is the absolute last thing I want to do.
Glaring at him, I take a deep breath to try to calm some of the anger flowing through me. I’m not a wimp and I won’t start being one today. If he wants to be gone sooner, then we’ll get this shit show started and get him out of my house faster.
I step out of the room, not caring at all if he’s behind me or not, and make my way downstairs.
“Oh, there they are,” Mom says the second she sees us coming.
“Wow,” Isabella exclaims, her smile growing as she looks me over and then looks past me to the arrogant man behind me.
“I love your dress, Vida, red is so your color,” the young woman who looks so much like her brother says, her compliment sounding genuine.
How are these two actually related? She seems so nice while he is the polar opposite.
“Thank you. Sorry for keeping everyone waiting,” I say, feeling him walk past me as I stop next to my mother.
“You did no such thing, mia cara , it’s nice to meet you. I’m Matteo,” Matteo says warmly, wrapping me in a hug, shocking not just me, but everyone around the table except the big grump I’m supposed to marry. He just doesn’t seem to give a hoot.
“It’s nice to meet you. You must be Luca’s brother,” I guess, smiling at him when he pulls back.
“I didn’t think we looked that alike, but your whole household seems to think otherwise, killing my dreams,” he says, feigning being hurt, and laughs.
“If I’m being honest, your tattoos make you look more like his son than his brother,” I tease, making both him and Luca chuckle.
“You’re the sister with a sweet mouth, I see,” he laughs again, already giving me the impression that he likes me.
“You’ve met my son Ciro,” Matteo says as he gestures to his son, finally giving me a name to put to the face. “I apologize for his rude traits, he got that from me and his grandfather.”
I turn to look at Ciro, his brown eyes piercing mine like he wants to come over here and strangle me, but I won’t let that scare me. I’m about to be his wife, even though the thought repulses me. It is something I’ll have to get used to, even if he is going to be a pain in my ass while I try.
“He wasn’t rude,” I say, smiling at him. “Just very persuasive.”
“That’s a surprise. This is Carmela, my daughter,” Matteo continues, turning to Carmela who stands up immediately with a smile on her face.
“Hi!” I say with a smile and a small wave.
“It’s nice to meet you, Vee. Can I call you Vee? Izzy has told me so much about you, and the name kinda stuck,” she says with a laugh.
Unlike her brother, Carmela seems like a gem; a very warm and welcoming gem. I can see how easy it would be for her to get along with Izzy. Why wasn’t it Carmela who came to get me to come downstairs?
“You can call me Vee if you’d like. My parents yell Vida all the time, so it’ll be great if I have more people calling Vee,” I joke, making my parents laugh.
My joke seems to lighten the tension in the room, and as we all settle in our seats, the conversations flow smoothly. It’s nice, but as I look over at Ciro, I can tell by the way he’s glaring at me that he doesn’t like this at all.
Well, too bad.
“And mia cara ,” Matteo calls, bringing my attention to him.
“You look radiosa, ” he says, adding a chef’s kiss gesture, making me smile.
“Thank you,” I reply, grateful for my one month of learning Italian on Duolingo.
Dinner continues to go smoothly, our two families talking about random things from politics, education, religion, relationships, and so much more. For some reason, everyone stays away from the main topic that has brought us all together; our marriage. Getting to talk with Carmela has been amazing though, and it makes me feel a little better about stepping into this new life. I’ll have a friend on the inside, someone who can help me feel welcomed. I need that more than she’ll ever know.
It is nice getting to see Dad relax too. It doesn’t take long before he and Matteo are chatting like how Dad and Luca do. Ciro, on the other hand, doesn’t join in the conversations at all. His focus stays on his food and his phone the entire time, and when he isn’t sitting with his head down, he is glaring at me. His glare I was learning to handle with ease, and it seemed to make Mom happy that he ate all his food.
Why does he keep staring at me? I wonder. Maybe because I’m the reason he is stuck here and not doing whatever he had planned? Why is he even agreeing to this? I’m certain about my reasons but what are his? There is more to this story and I don’t like the part where I have no clue. I know he can see that I don’t want this marriage, yet I keep smiling and making everyone happy. Maybe that is it! That is why he keeps staring. I’m pretending so well and he can’t stand that. He can’t stand the fact I’m not causing a scene or speaking my truth. Maybe he thinks I’m a coward. But he doesn’t know me and what he thinks has no effect on me. So if he thinks he is marrying a coward, that is his bitter black cup of coffee.
“When is the wedding?” Ciro asks, getting everyone’s attention.
“Ciro!” his father calls, not looking impressed at all with his son.
“We came here to meet the Thorne’s, and we’ve done that. Now, when will my wedding be?” he asks, his face void of emotion.
“It’s my wedding, too,” I point out.
“I almost forgot,” he replies sarcastically, not even turning to look at me.
“Next week,” Dad blurts out, making the two of us look at him with our eyes wide in shock.
“Excuse me?” Ciro asks, breaking the tense silence that’s fallen over us.
“The wedding, your wedding, it’s next week,” Dad repeats.
“That’s a fucking joke,” Ciro replies, leaning into his chair and crossing his arms.
What does he mean ‘next week’? We’ve only just met and now they’re making us get married in a week?
“You’re joking, right? Dad? Mom?” I ask, my eyes moving from Dad to Mom, searching for answers. Did they decide to do this too without my consent? Is that how insignificant I’ve become in a matter of days? And why isn’t Isabella saying anything?
“Izzy?” I whisper as I look at her. She can’t even look me in the eyes . . . did she know too and not tell me?
“I couldn’t . . .” Isabella starts and my heart breaks.
“You knew? When? When did you guys decide on the day you’ll marry me off without even talking to me first?” I ask, my voice beginning to crack.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone, especially not in front of him.
“When you were upstairs and Ciro went to get you,” Isabella tells me, her voice so low I almost don’t hear it.
“You decided in barely five minutes? Is that how irrelevant this is to you? Izzy you said you’d give me some time to get ready. Did you just come to plot against me with our parents?” I ask, completely heartbroken. My sister was supposed to be fighting for me, not against me. She’s been sitting here all evening laughing and chatting like nothing is wrong and she hadn’t done anything wrong.
“She tried to, but . . .” Carmela starts, looking at our parents before looking back down at her hands. “Our parents didn’t give her much room to object.”
“Why?” I ask, turning my attention to my parents and Matteo, needing to understand why they’d do this to me.
“It’s for the best, Mija, please understand,” Dad says, but that doesn’t make me understand this any more than I did before.
“That’s all you’ve said since Luca brought this up and I’ve understood you, all of you. But this is going way too far, one week is too soon,” I protest, my voice getting louder as the words flow out of me. I’m not just sad that they did this, I’m mad. I’m angry that they couldn’t even stop to think of everything I am giving up for this or even think to involve me in this decision.
“Vida, stop it,” Mom says, bringing my gaze to her.
“No, I understand why I have to do this. But I don’t understand why you’re rushing it. I’m the one Donato wants, why not let him kill me if you’re so worried about your family?”
“Vida!” Mom yells, her eyes wide in shock.
“Donato?” Ciro asks, sitting up straighter in his seat.
“Raphael’s cousin Donato?” Carmela asks, turning to look at her father.
Matteo looks at Luca and gives a nod of approval.
“Yes, that Donato,” Luca replies, watching Ciro and Carmela for their reactions.
“You know him?” Isabella asks, turning to face Carmela.
“I hate him,” Carmela grits out, her gaze cold.
“You’re the girl who sent Raphael to jail,” Carmela states with a devilish smirk on her lips as she looks at me.
I don’t know what that look is for, but I can’t bring myself to try to find out. All I can think about is them going behind my back and doing this. I’m not going to marry Ciro next week, and I’m a little hopeful that Ciro being against it too will give us more time. If we stand our ground together, they may just listen to us.
“Yes, why?” I ask, watching Carmela’s eyes move from me to Ciro.
“This marriage . . .” he stops and turns his gaze to me for a long moment before turning his gaze to his father and continuing, “is her witness protection, isn’t it?”
“Yes and your ticket to your inheritance,” Matteo adds, surprising me.
His inheritance? He is being forced to marry me to become heir to the Ballera line?
“Next week sounds like a good time for a wedding,” Ciro says with a shrug as he sits back in his chair.
“What!” I gasp, staring at him.
“We’re getting married next week, didn’t you hear your father say that?” he asks, shooting me a sarcastic smile.
Am I hallucinating? Wasn’t he just against getting married this soon like a minute ago? What changed his mind? Why do I feel like it has something to do with Donato?
“You can’t do this,” I protest, my words more like a plea than a statement.
“I can do whatever I want, and for starters, it is getting married next week,” he replies with a smirk on his lips, so subtle I knew he was making sure only I could see it.
“Fuck you,” I say through gritted teeth before getting up and heading towards the door. I need to breathe the air he’s not breathing, and I need to get out of here.
“Vida!” Dad calls but I don’t stop, slamming the door behind me and silencing any further protests.