13. Skye
SKYE
M y papa’s pristine office was a place surrounded by beautiful memories. I’d spent many hours with him in this room—sometimes in silence and other times discussing my worries, dreams, and nightmares. The latter usually revolved around losing the Nikolaevs as a family.
Children usually remembered big milestones and significant events, and I was no different. Except that the biggest event of my life had happened to me before I knew anything about the world.
I’d never forget the day I stepped foot in this castello when I was five. Or the first time I realized Papa would do anything to make me happy.
Muted rays trickled into my bedroom and I twirled around, thinking how much it looked like something out of a dream.
My dream, maybe. Everywhere I looked I saw my favorite colors.
Pink fairy lights twinkling from the ceiling, Disney princesses and Legos scattered everywhere.
Pink and white drapes hanging on either side of the two great big windows.
When I first saw this room, I was so happy I bounced up and down, eager to explore every inch of it and my new home. In a way, the castello reminded me of Branka and Sasha’s home.
My chest got tight and I tapped it lightly.
I missed them. Yes, I knew they weren’t my real parents, but after being rejected by so many due to my disability, Branka and Sasha were the first to see me and accept me just the way I was.
And the Nikolaev family was so happy, big, complicated, and loving.
There was never a dull moment there, and Nikola always spent time translating for me when his family reverted to Russian.
“We can change whatever you don’t like in this room, princess,” Papa signed with a soft expression. “Anywhere in the castle too.”
We were seated on the floor, a fuzzy rug tickling my legs as we built a tower to keep my princesses safe. It was just us two today because Mama had gone shopping with Aunt Reina.
“ I like everything in this castle ,” I signed.
“Then why the sad face?” I chewed on my lip, worried that I’d hurt his feelings if I told him the truth but not wanting to lie either.
“You can tell me anything,” he assured with a smile that promised he’d always be there for me.
“ I miss Sasha and Branka ,” I admitted, lowering my eyes in shame. After being alone and feeling rejected, I should be grateful that my papa and mama had found me. That they’d been looking for me all along. But instead, my heart squeezed.
Papa’s firm but gentle fingers took my chin and tilted my head back. There was no anger in his eyes when mine met his, only understanding.
“Then we’ll call them. Invite them over for a visit too.” I nodded eagerly. “And you can visit them soon, but give your papa some time to be selfish. I want to have you and your mama all to myself for a little bit. Okay?”
I smiled and threw myself into his arms. He hugged me tightly, offering me comfort and so much love that it almost felt like my chest would burst.
I finally shifted away and signed, “ Can I have a spot to play in your office too ? I want to be with you even while you’re working .”
“On one condition.” I stared at him, waiting for him to continue. “That you always tell me what’s bothering you.”
I made the Scout’s honor sign on my chest. “ I promise, Papa .”
Papa grinned. “Then we’ll make that happen today because nothing would make me happier.”
And we did just that.
In fact, my desk—a smaller version of his—still sat in the corner of Papa’s office, intact like I’d used it only yesterday. Even my pencil sat there, waiting for me to start scribbling things down as I pretended to be important and busy like him.
I padded over to Papa’s desk, my fingers tracing the smooth surface, the scent of leather, wood, and Papa’s cologne wafting around it. My gaze traveled over his laptop, at the documents in a neat stack on his desk, and I paused.
Skye Leone , read the printed label of one set a little to the side.
My brow furrowed, and before I could think through the impropriety of the action, I riffled through it.
A sharp gasp left me as realization sunk in. It was a marriage contract.
My eyes skimmed over the document, reeling from the shock. Amadeo Marchetti and Skye Leone Marriage Contract .
My heart thundered as I stared at the documents, wondering why Papa would ever agree to something like this. He hated the mere mention of any boyfriend, so it couldn’t be that he did this lightly. My eyes zeroed in on a signature, recognizing Sasha’s.
What the hell ?—
Trepidation flickered to life in my heart, and for the first time in my life, I intended to break my promise to Papa. I wouldn’t go to him and discuss this. Instead, I’d find a way to break this contract myself.
My phone buzzed, vibrating against my ass in the back of my jeans. It was the girls’ group chat, Penelope’s the first in the string of names that followed, and suddenly, I could relate to my friend’s marriage anxiety.
I started reading through the messages.
Penelope: I have to find the masked guy from Revelation.
Amara: Why? He’s still alive?
Gianna: What is Revelation? Sounds kinky.
Penelope: Miracle, right? I took it as a sign. Got to bang him again.
Me: Isn’t it weird that he’s still alive?
Was I the only one to question that a man was able to survive fooling around with Penelope?
Gianna: What is Revelation?
Arianna: You’re too young to even type that word, little sis.
A row of angry-face emojis followed.
Penelope: I wonder if he would consider marrying me before this wedding to Enzo takes place.
Arianna: Doesn’t hurt to ask? Do you have his name?
Penelope: No, and I have no idea how to find out who he is.
Gianna: Draw him and maybe I can help.
Penelope: He had a mask on. Besides, I was too busy withering underneath him between the sheets to study him. I don’t think I would even recognize his voice.
Me:
Amara: Was the man that good between the sheets?
Penelope: Yes. His was magic. I saw .
So many laughing emojis followed, my phone just about exploded.
Gianna: Can someone explain how Penelope got into bed with a masked man?
Anya: It sounds like a scene from an erotica novel.
Penelope: Oh, it was freaky. In a good way. Anyway, I’m no longer a virgin. Fuck you, Enzo Marchetti.
Me: It’s a sad day when we have to resort to sex and marriage with a stranger to escape a man. But as long as the sex was great, it was worth it.
And just as I pressed send, causing a frenzy in the group chat, an idea occurred to me.
In three days, we’d be visiting the Nikolaevs in New Orleans. I’d convince—fine, seduce—Nikola and put a major dent in this marriage contract.
The one, tiny problem: If Nikola couldn’t even return my texts, how in the ever-loving hell would I get him to have sex with me?
I recalled our last encounter at Revelation and smiled smugly. Oh yes—jealousy.
There was hope for me yet.