CHAPTER TWO
I nstead of staying in my room, I headed to my best friend Cassidy’s, weaving through the obstacle of boxes, suitcases, shower caddies left in the hall. Her door still had the Warhol painting of Einstein sticking out his tongue poster taped to it.
I turned the handle. Locked? “Hey, open up,” I shouted.
“Adelina,” her voice rang out. “Coming.”
The door swung open, and she posed with the back of her hand on her forehead. “Don’t say goodbye. I hate goodbyes.”
“Then I won’t say it my love,” I said in a theatrical tone, clasping her hands.
Cassidy laughed, and I joined her.
“Grand-Ma-Ma off in her chariot?” she asked in a snobbish tone, closing the door.
“Yep. To nitpick the people trapped at the dinner with her,” I half-joked.
She tutted. “That’s why my parents are skipping it.”
Mrs. Belfiore’s reputation was well known, but so was her position as head of the board of trustees. No one dared to challenge her.
Cassidy’s books, computer, bookcases, and clothes were everywhere, just like any other day. “What the hell, Cass? Why haven’t you packed?” I gestured at the mess.
She plopped down on her bed and stretched her arms above her head. “Your stuff is here, too.” She pointed at the two tubes of my favorite paintings she kept—just in case Mrs. Belfiore misplaced them in the bin.
I picked up the children’s book I had illustrated, and she made me sign, “The Bumble Bee Ball.” It was a freelance illustration gig I had done for a writer online. I leafed through the images of the bees dressed in their finest clothes as they flew through the gate at Honeyville Springs.
“I still think that this is so you,” she murmured as I handed it back to her.
I thought so, too, but I had other important things ahead and it would have to stay as a hobby. “You sure you can keep them for a while?”
“Of course. They’ll travel with me down the road.” She gave me a thumbs up.
Cassidy wasn’t just going down the road; she had been accepted into Harvard Law. She managed to party and oversleep, but still made top grades. Her brilliance and photographic memory helped out.
I went to her dresser and pulled out a college T-shirt and jogging pants, just like she had on.
She tsked. “Honestly, you’re an adult now. Your granny playing dress up is weird. Tell her to respect your boundaries.”
Cassidy talked big, but she—and most of the students I attended school with—were in the same boat as me. Decisions were made for them since birth. Her parents were top entertainment managers in L.A., who expected her to inherit the company, so she had more leeway. But not much.
“When you tell your parents you want to be an actress, you can talk.” I bent down and she unhooked the clasp at the back of the dress, then I put on the clothes. I rolled my neck and took the hairband Cassidy held out, pulling my hair up into a messy bun like hers.
“You’re gorgeous. I hate you,” she mused.
I grinned at her. “I hate you, too, Gorgeous.”
Her expression turned impish as she picked up her phone. “Check this out.”
I took it from her. It was a naked guy posed by a mirror, watching himself make a muscle.
I threw her phone on her bed. “Oh, come on.”
Cassidy laughed and stretched her hand over to collect it. “I met him on Match. He’s not bad, but he describes himself as an ‘alpha male.’”
We cringed and she reached down the side of her bed and pulled out a small box. “You have a new package from your mysterious boyfriend ‘M.’” She cocked her brow.
I chewed on my lip. My “M” was Mr. Luca Marini, and my only secret from Cassidy. Because even though I trusted her, I feared she might let it slip out and it would get back to my family.
I opened the box and held up Huxley’s Brave New World .
Cassidy scrunched up her face in disgust at the book. “Be still my heart.”
He’d written a bank account number on the inside cover, just like he’d done with the others he’d sent before. I always turned down his money gifts.
“You sure this mysterious M’s not your… husband ?” she whispered behind her hand.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
She grimaced. “But someone like him could be. God, I really hate this for you. I’m serious. Just tell them you changed your mind. At least they should’ve let you date.”
I shrugged. “I’m over it.”
The type of man my grandparents promised me to wanted a virgin. How they would know for sure was debatable, but why risk it? Dating would only lead to temptation, so I didn’t.
“Just put your foot down,” she said. “You’re a grown woman now.”
Cassidy spoke like we’d all been taught. Every woman at our women’s college talked about empowerment. I admired their strength and self-esteem, but I hadn’t forgotten what brought me here. She was my favorite person, and I loved her like a sister, but she was spoiled. She never went hungry or went a season without the latest designer heels or bags. I knew what it was like to have my heroin-addicted father sell our food for his fix. To be hit when he lost a bet. To sleep in paid-by-the-hour motels. Or to leave school early to work jobs where the manager didn’t check my age. My grandparents may suck, but at least I’ve got clean clothes and a roof over my head. Jacob and Mama are safe.
My mind attempted to pep-talk me, but Cassidy hugged my shoulder. “I’ll drop it, Lina. But I’m here to support you.”
“I’d rather not talk about it anymore,” I mumbled.
She hugged me, and I finally gave in and hugged her back.
“Good, now what about this mess?” I asked, changing the subject. We both groaned, staring at all her stuff.
“How did I end up with all this crap?” she huffed. “I’ll do one dresser.” She stood and bounced on her feet, then opened a drawer, pulling out a French beret. “ Oui, oui . I still hate that you couldn’t go abroad with me.”
A lump lodged in my throat as I remembered how my grandparents had taken away the opportunity, even though I’d earned an art scholarship and saved up the money. I could only dream as Cassidy sent daily photos of all the museums, shops, and events she went to. Her parents had invited me to go abroad with them for the summer holiday, but that too had been turned down. Yes, my grandparents helped, but I never got to try anything. I’m only twenty-two. It can still happen .
Cassidy came over and put the beret on my head. “You look marvelous, darling. Now write your mysterious M while I try to pack.”
My mysterious M. If she only knew. On the night that changed my life, I’d met an older man sitting on the beach at the bottom of the hill. And for some odd reason, we talked about books.
“What’re you reading?”
I puzzled and glanced down. The paperback I’d had with me was sticking out of my pocket. “Mother’s Night by Kurt Vonn…” When I didn’t know how to pronounce something, I spoke the part I was sure of.
“Vonnegut,” he said, frowning. “That’s a dark satire. Too mature for a young girl. It’s also serves as a warning to be careful pretending.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
“Okay?” He laughed. “What else do you read?”
Reading wasn’t my only love; drawing came first. Still, I’d given him a list of my latest reads and even stayed to memorize the place so I could paint it one day. That was what I told myself, but truthfully, I had nowhere to go. We kept talking.
“The Belfiores are my neighbor,” he told me. “I live in the house next door and we share this area. You were in the house but snuck away to think.”
“I didn’t sneak, I….” I lost what to say. He saw more than I expected.
“It’s okay if you did,” he said. “Sometimes impulses lead to making hasty decisions. And even in the bad situations, there’s someone else that has it worse and may need you.”
Mr. Marini gave me his card so I could send him messages about books. A strange thing perhaps for a lonely fourteen-year-old girl. But his kindness made it hard to throw it away. And we corresponded on occasion ever since. I took out my phone and sent him a text message.
Adelina: Thank you very much for the book. I can’t accept your other gift (you know that) This may be one of our last messages.
Too dramatic? I tried to calm the nausea in my stomach. Mr. Marini had been a real uncle, a confidant. When I had questions about my studies, he always had an answer. He also had been the one older person who made my life fun. His thoughtful care packages with movies and tickets to sporting events had made my life bearable. Of course, once I was around my grandparents they would watch me like a hawk. Who knows what my new husband would be like? He could be jealous.
M: Mia dolce Adelina! Lovely to hear from you. I’m glad you like the book. But what’s this about you never writing again?
Adelina: You know I’m graduating.
M: Summa Cum Laude, Phi Beta Kappa. Everyone back here has heard. I even saw your photo on the Westchester County site. I’m so proud of you, like you’re my granddaughter.
I smiled and typed back.
Adelina: Thank you so much. Your advice about my studies was a godsend, and all the extra surprises made these years not so bad. I’m going to miss it. And well, I believe I may be married soon.
My shoulders slumped as I gripped the phone tighter. Had I shared too much?
M: Yes. So I’ve heard. I’m happy for you. It’s good to start a family.
A pang went through my chest. For some reason, I hadn’t expected Mr. Marini to say that, but he was old enough to be my grandfather. He probably had no adversity to arranged marriages and may have been in one himself.
“Now that we’re graduating, can you tell me who M is?” Cassidy asked.
I chewed my lip.
“I promise I’ll never tell a soul.” She made the sign of the cross and kissed the tip of her finger.
I took a deep breath. It won’t matter soon, anyway . “He’s a Marini, and that’s all I’m willing to say.”
Cassidy’s mouth dropped open. “ The Marinis?” Her eyes widened when I didn’t correct her. “Oh, my God, you’re serious. You know that I know the Marinis from my pre-law courses on New York history. They were huge in bootlegging and were a reason for the laws during prohibition, which I believe the Belfiores were also involved with.”
I’d traced some of my family tree at a time. The Belfiores had their hands in government corruption.
“Some mafia suspicions,” Cassie continued and raised a brow. “But they left the life of crime and built a substantial shipping company. Which one are you talking to? Lorenzo? Gabriele? Luca?”
I kept my face blank.
“Rocco?” she shrieked.
“Who?” I acted surprised. But I knew Rocco. I met him that fateful night too. He came running up to get his grandfather….
“Grandpa, we mustn’t be late.” He was taller than me, older—I guessed college age. He was wearing the wool coat with a striped scarf that posh kids wore when I went to Mass. I could see the waves in his thick, black hair, even in the lamps. His eyes were a startling blue color, lighter than mine. His brows furrowed as he gaped. “Is this girl lost or something? She looks hurt. Should we get someone?”
My heartbeat quickened as he gazed over me. I remembered my battered face and my worn-out hoodie and oversized jeans I’d put on over my leggings.
I lowered my head and moved to walk off. “Goodbye, Mr. Marini.”
“You don’t need to leave, Adelina. My rude grandson, Rocco, is still learning his manners.”
“No, I’m…I’m fine,” I mumbled.
“You’re not,” Rocco said in a harsh tone. “You look terrible. Is your shelter in town? Do you need a ride—”
“Rocco, leave her alone,” Mr. Marini hissed. But Rocco didn’t. He took out his wallet and pulled out a wad of money, holding it out for me to take. “A Merry Christmas bonus.”
I winced and stepped back, the pain hitting me like a blow to the gut.
My skin burned and my insides shrunk remembering how I felt being offered money. Sure, I needed it, but he gave it so flippantly. Like I’d become a beggar you could throw charity at to feel better about yourself. Mr. Marini scolded him and tried to come to my defense, but in the end I had the last word.
“I’m fine, Mr. Marini, and I don’t need your money. You should go. You mustn’t be late, Grand Pa-Pa.” I mimicked Rocco’s voice.
Mr. Marini laughed, and Rocco scoffed. “You’re not funny.”
“Oh, but I am, rich boy,” I hissed.
Rocco had been hot when I first met him all those years ago at the beach, even if he had been rude and condescending. It hadn’t mattered as I’d doubted I’d ever see him again anyway. But now, he had somehow become outrageously gorgeous.
“You know which Marini I mean,” Cassidy said and smirked as she picked up her tablet. She started typing, but I already knew whose name she searched. Rocco Marini. Every woman who had exposure to any media had seen Rocco’s photo, as he was always included among the hottest celebrity heirs around. Mr. Marini shared an occasional update on his grandson, but I never asked for more. And the times I stayed at my grandparents, he wasn’t at his grandfather’s house next door. However, I knew he lived in New York City.
Cassidy turned the screen to me to see his images. Hollywood was known for its beautiful people, and Rocco had it in spades. He’d gone from being a business mogul to a producer of independent films and documentaries. And recently, he had been more in front of the cameras than behind them.
“Just look at the gorgeous women he has with him wherever he goes,” Cassidy said.
I was puzzled. When Mr. Marini talked about Rocco, he was worried he spent too much time by himself. Yet, he was often pictured with a pretty woman on his arm. However, no one was certain on who he dated since he’d somehow managed to keep his relationships private. The few that were known to the public didn’t seem to last.
“It looks like he has a type, though,” I murmured, but honestly it didn’t concern me. It was only his grandfather I cared about, and truthfully, Rocco seemed just as spoiled as Cassidy.
“A type? Yes, sophisticated women who will blend into his well-traveled, decadent life. That’s his type,” Cassidy answered. She let out a low whistle. “Damn, this guy has been some places and he’s going somewhere.” She wagged her brows, and I hit her lightly, laughing. She pointed out a few clubs on each coast, and some images from his eatery documentary in Europe and Asia.
“So, he’s traveled abroad, but not everywhere,” I pointed out. “He hasn’t been to outer space.”
She clicked on the second page, and a photo came up of Rocco in a space suit, floating in outer space.
My mouth dropped open. “No way.” I gripped the tablet and peered at the image. It can’t be real?
Cassidy laughed harder. “It’s a bad-fake, Lina, but with his big bucks, he can do whatever he wants. Gah.”
I laughed at her. Cassidy rarely fangirled anyone, but she wasn’t wrong. Social media often hyped-up people to get more clicks. Sure, Rocco was known for his business and films, but his family owned an empire. And the only reason he was photographed was because he was good-looking and wealthy.
I wrinkled my nose. “With all that money the Marini’s have. They could end world hunger.” It was something that annoyed me, but I never said it to Mr. Marini. It seemed rude since he was my friend.
She pointed to an outreach program he worked on, “Rocco’s trying. He played a big part in creating The World Is Your Family project.”
I stared at Rocco’s picture hugging a child at a care center. This smile was different from the others on the generated search. It captured a joy that seemed genuine. Okay. He looks dreamy.
Cassidy touched my arm to get my attention again, laughing.
I squinted at her. “What?”
“What?” she said mockingly. “You, that’s what. You’re attracted to him.”
I rolled my eyes and smirked. “You got all that from me looking at his picture?”
She jutted her chin grinning. “Yeah, I did. Ha. Finally. Someone broke your ice armor. Damn, I hope he comes to Harvard as an alumni guest speaker. I’ll be in the front row, dropping my bag, and he’ll rush over and pick it up.” She batted her eyes.
I chuckled and crossed my arms. She wasn’t wrong about my icy armor. That was something I was quite proud of, and much of that pride stemmed from Mr. Marini’s words. “Resilience will be your superpower, Adelina.” I’ve tried, dear man. “You’re missing your calling as a filmmaker, Cass.”
“Just you wait, Lina. I’ll be Mrs. Marini, or First Lady Cassidy Marini.”
“How do you know he’s going into politics?” I asked and scrunched up my face.
“He spoke to Congress on hunger, so it’s not far-fetched. Just like we both know I’ll be at a firm doing celebrity law in L.A. one day.” She dropped her gaze.
I hugged her shoulder.
Cassidy would return to her mansion in the hills, just like I’d seen in all her pictures. She and Rocco had the wealth and the freedom I could only wish for. If I had the money, I’d establish an institute for abuse survivors and hire Jacob to give lessons in art therapy. He was good at getting other people at his care center to come out of their shell after all he’d been through. Of course, I’d also travel around the world, using the languages I learned, and create art. But that wasn’t in my cards. I would help my family. Not go back on my word like Judge Colby.
“Aren’t you even the least bit curious about what it would be like to date a gorgeous guy like Rocco?” Cassidy cut into my thoughts.
I wrinkled my nose. “So I can be filmed, hounded, vilified, and judged at every turn? No thanks.”
Cassidy closed the tablet and gave me an incredulous look. “Lady, that’s everybody’s life nowadays.”
True. But Rocco Marini was the charismatic type who courted the public eye. Sure, it had something to do with his work, but he still reveled in it. The type of handsome man who could toy with hearts, just like my father. Judge Colby had love-bombed my mother and always had a romantic poem or a nice gift for her after he strayed. I witnessed the many times he lied and cheated or blamed her for all the problems he had in life when things didn’t go his way. To my dad, she never looked good, cooked well, fucked him right. She loved him dearly, and he destroyed her physically and mentally. That won’t be me. I’ll be a good wife, but I will never love my husband.
The only thing that would make me leave would be if he hurt me. Nothing made me prouder than hitting Judge Colby—that was the sin in my heart, as absolution only comes when you have penance. Sometimes, I wondered if karma would collect for my lack of remorse. It hadn’t yet.
Not even Cassidy knew much about my violent past, and I wanted to keep it that way. The arranged marriage wasn’t ideal, but I had a chance to finally build a life.
Even if I’ll never have the freedom I so desire.