Chapter 15 Viviana #2
A line digs between his brows just like the crater between us. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’ve always been on my side.”
I remain perfectly silent and then go hug him. “See you tomorrow. I’m a bit tired.”
“That must be it,” my mother adds, eyeing me as if not knowing what’s wrong with me either.
I love my parents, but it’s beyond my understanding how someone can be so obtuse.
Inside my room, I change into pajamas and stare at the ceiling.
When Tristan calls me, I lock the door and, to double the security, I enter my bathroom.
It’s only been a few days, but I miss him. Thinking about how much longer it will be until I see him again squeezes every bit of joy from my heart.
In my black and white world, he’s the spark of color.
After breakfast with my parents, they walk me to the door and hug me.
“I’m so proud of you,” my father says. “My good daughter.”
If I never hear the word good again in my life, it will be too soon. I like it only in one context.
I rush out, afraid the blush will betray my thoughts. It’s imperative that I don’t slip.
My parents don’t know I can drive. That’s a secret between my sister, Cato, Dario, and me.
As the driver opens the rear door for me, I get in, thinking that Tristan is with Evie, wishing to be with them.
In a perfect reality, I’d be married to my best friend’s brother.
I am afraid I will soon lose them both. My heart fills with lead, sinking straight to the bottom of my stomach. I hate that my thoughts always revert to that scenario, but the longer I linger in limbo, the more I panic.
The drive passes in a blur with me stuck in my head. If I didn’t know what it felt like to love and be loved, experience passion, desire and lust, concoct hopes and dreams, it would have been easier, or maybe not. At least I got to live it.
The guards at the compound gate poke their heads inside the car, devices in their hands, looking for possible explosives. Security around here is unmatched.
After he parks in front of my sister’s white mansion with tinted glass, I step out.
Their housekeeper lets me in, and I expect smiles and chatter, not silence that makes me stop in my tracks.
First, I see Cato, who says, “May I have a word with you?”
He asks only because of my sister. This man used to getting his way.
I nod, suddenly nervous.
Inside his home office, he gestures toward the seating area by the window.
“Where is Chiara?”
“Mad at me,” he says, cracking his neck.
I notice the bags under his eyes, revealing he hadn’t slept well, making me feel even more jittery.
My nerves shoot up, skyrocketing my pulse, which thuds a deafening rhythm.
My vision blurs, every second of silence threatens to make me lose my footing.
Staying upright while dread threatens to unbalance me edges on a miracle.
He opens his mouth, and I know my life will never be the same.
“You’re getting married.”
Three words shouldn’t produce a tectonic shift that tears my entire life apart. They shouldn’t have the power to make my heart stop.
The sentence riddles my body with holes, leaving a gaping, bleeding crater in the middle of my chest. Strength leaks from my battered body, and I sink into the seat, processing but not wanting to deal with the implications.
It’s over. Three simple words blast my world to smithereens—the dreams, the hopes, the love, and all that could have been.
While my heart rebels and my soul wails, my head dips in acceptance.
“Don’t you want to know more?” he asks, brows furrowing.
I lift my eyes, dejection pulling my shoulders down. “No.”
I need time to mourn the loss and concoct a plan for why I am not a virgin. I am sure I won’t be the only one who pretended to be one. With today’s information at a swipe of the finger, I shouldn’t worry. I try to focus on that and disregard my heart withering away.
Tristan pops into my head like a permanent fixture, and it kills me. He won’t understand.
“When will it be?” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut to blind myself to the impending agony.
“After you graduate. He insisted,” he says good-naturedly, as if that piece of information would make me feel anything else but dejected.
Before Tristan burst into my life, being able to complete my studies would have made me ecstatic.
Now, it seems I’ve lost everything.
I nod, incapable of forming another sentence.
“I’m sorry, Viviana. Thank you for being so agreeable.”
That puts a small smile on my face. Surely my sister gave him hell. Always the fighter.
He grips my shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
My chin quivers. “Tell me my marriage is meaningful.”
I need my sacrifice to mean something.
He nods, features cast in a somber expression. “It gives us a powerful ally. Someone we can’t afford to lose.”
My future husband must be important.
He leaves, and alone, I realize I haven’t even asked about his name, how old he is, what he is like, but it’s irrelevant. It would change nothing.
I hear some heated talk in the hall before Chiara darts inside and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t fight with your husband over something we knew would happen.”
“But not like this…”
I shrug, numb to my core. “This is the Mafia, Chiara, and we all serve. Now it’s my turn.”
With hands clasped together, I draw strength to confess, “I have a problem. I’m not a virgin, so how do we fix that?”
One moment her eyes glisten, the next she bursts out in laughter, making me laugh as well. Giving in to a fit of hysterics, my troubles ease.
She slaps a palm over her mouth. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did. Several times.”
She bows to me. “I failed. But you, my terrible good girl of a sister, did it. I’m in awe.”
I slap her shoulder. “I’m serious. What do we do?”
“Let me gather the girls. Alessandra surely knows.” She smiles as she types in their group chat, mouthing at me. “You’re a rock star.”