5. Chapter 5
Chapter five
Luciana
“H e’s absolutely insufferable.”
With a dramatic flair, I threw myself onto the plush bed and let out an ear-piercing scream into my soft pillow. My future husband, the bane of my existence, was truly the absolute worst person I could have ever imagined being hitched to for eternity.
“Maybe it’s not too late,” Martina said. “Maybe we can still get you out of this somehow.”
I flipped over and gave her a look that conveyed it was absolutely not going to be possible.
“I’m not even worried that he’ll butcher me to death. He’ll probably annoy me to death first.”
“From what you’ve said, Emilio might not be horrible,” she said.
The icy glare I gave her grew even colder.
“Hear me out! You’ve seen the way Leone Alto treats his wife. This guy sounds like he views you as an inconvenience.”
I should have been relieved. Leone Alto viewed his wife as a punching bag. Instead, I was offended that Emilio viewed me as an inconvenience. After all, he was the one who decided to go through with this marriage.
“I guess,” I said.
There were a few things I hadn’t shared with Martina. I didn’t confess my self-centeredness, how I had initially refused the arranged marriage until my father had threatened to send her in my place.
I also hadn’t brought up my conversation with Emilio about sex, which would have been incredibly awkward. I was mortified at the thought of him following through with it on our wedding night. The day after, I made an appointment with my doctor to get birth control.
It felt like a betrayal to Martina, because we normally share everything with each other.
“Why did you say yes, anyway?” she asked.
Fuck. I had to think of a lie, and quick.
“Father had my hands tied. Threatened to kick me out and cut me off if I didn’t accept.”
“That’s very on brand for him,” she paused. “Wait, don’t you make, like, a lot of money from your YouTube channel?”
Ugh. That put a crack in my poorly concocted lie.
“I never monetized it,” I lied. “There was no need to, and I didn’t want to decrease my viewership with ads.”
I desperately tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. As I wracked my brain for a topic that would better grab Martina’s interest, my father unexpectedly barged into my room. It was a rare moment when I actually welcomed his presence.
“Luciana,” he said. “To my office, now.”
There was never ‘are you available’ or ‘if now doesn’t work, can we do it later’ with him. It was always on his time.
“Fine,” I replied. Normally there would be a hint of sass laced with it, but I was actually relieved to get out of my current situation.
I exited my room and trailed behind father as we headed towards his study. Martina went in the opposite direction, most likely heading to her own bedroom.
The sound of our footsteps echoed down the silent, sterile hallway as we made our way to Father’s office. He fumbled with his keys before finally unlocking the door and ushering me inside. We took our seats at the large desk, facing each other like two strangers in a business meeting rather than a father and daughter having a conversation. The air between us felt tense and heavy, neither wanting to broach the subject he had called me here for.
I was getting married tomorrow.
“About tomorrow,” he said. “You-“
“I don’t need a lecture. Yes, I will smile and look happy. I will not misbehave and I will be polite to guests. Are we finished here?” I asked.
“Half finished. You will also do what a woman is expected of her on her wedding night.”
It seemed like everyone except me had been thinking of my impending sex life. Father had struck a nerve and a surge of anger went through me.
“There are no ‘expectations’ for what I have to do after. The agreement is I marry him.”
My father was fifty-one, but was still quick for his age. In an instant, one hand had me by the hair and his other arm pinned my hands to the table.
“Whatever that man wishes to do to you tomorrow night, you will say yes,” he hissed.
“I might let him slice me to bits first.”
He lifted his hand, as if to strike me, but pulled it back just as quickly.
“You can’t have bruises on your wedding day,” he stated.
My features contorted into a scowl as I glared at him. The very sight of him filled me with anger and disgust, for he was undoubtedly the worst parent in existence. Was it too much to ask for a little love and care from the person who’s supposed to be your protector? All he brought was disappointment and pain.
“Wives are nothing but a nuisance. Look at your mother, or Valentina Alto. They must be kept in line.”
My father’s words elicited a strong urge to laugh from me, as if it were the most absurd thing I had ever heard. The idea of a man controlling or “keeping me in line” was both comical and repulsive. I would rather meet my fate at the end of a blade than succumb to such a fate.
It was a possibility. “The Butcher” would be waiting for me at the end of the aisle tomorrow.
My father’s words echoed in my mind as I stormed out of his office, my blood boiling with anger. Every step I took felt like a hammer striking the ground, my pulse racing and my jaw clenched tight. As I made my way back to my room, tears of frustration and betrayal blurred my vision. I collapsed onto my bed in a fit of blind rage, emotions coursing through me like a raging river. My fists pounded against the pillows, releasing some of the tension that had built up inside me.
A sudden burst of light caught my attention, and I turned to see where it was coming from. My gaze landed on the wall, where the overhead lamp had cast a bright reflection of my engagement ring. The diamond sparkled and refracted into a dazzling display of prisms, dancing across the beige paint in a mesmerizing pattern.
It was a stupidly large ring. Emilio probably picked it based on diamond size - I didn’t know they made them in this many carats - and not a design I would actually like.
It felt more like a ball and chain than a symbol of love.