Chapter 14 #2
I get a flight home that night. There’s no point in waiting, lying in my dorm, and imagining all the ways this is going to go badly.
On the flight there, I rehearse what I'm going to say to my father.
How I'm going to explain. How I'm going to convince him that Romeo was nothing—a momentary lapse in judgment, a distraction, a mistake. How I’m going to make him believe that nothing really happened between us, that we were study partners who developed an attraction and nothing more.
I practice my apologies. My explanations. My promises to do better.
With every hour, I can feel myself disappearing as I force myself back into the shape I’m supposed to occupy.
The Savannah who came to New York—the one who wanted to study ancient civilizations, who wanted to make her own choices, who wanted to be more than just a daughter and a wife—she's fading away.
I can feel myself becoming the old Savannah again, the one who knows how to smile and nod and say the right things.
How to be the perfect Southern belle who never questions, never rebels, and never wants anything more than what she's been given.
I hate her. But I don't know how to stop it, because the alternative is losing everything—my education, my funding, my freedom. And I'm not strong enough to lose everything.
By the time the plane lands, I've perfected my performance. I know exactly what to say and how to act, exactly how to convince my father that I'm still his dutiful daughter. Even if it's a lie.
Even if it destroys me.
The scent of his study is familiar, leather and old books and expensive bourbon. I've been in this room a thousand times, but today it feels different—smaller. More oppressive. He's sitting behind his desk when I enter, and he looks up, his face impassive. "Sit," he says.
I sit in the chair across from him, my hands folded in my lap, my posture perfect. The dutiful daughter. Poised, elegant, socially perfect. Exactly what I was raised to be.
The disappointment in his eyes makes my stomach clench. "Do you have any idea," he says quietly, "how embarrassing this is for me?"
"I'm sorry, Daddy—"
"I don't want to hear your apologies. I want to hear an explanation. I want to understand how my daughter—my intelligent, accomplished daughter—could be so foolish."
"It was a mistake—"
"A mistake." He picks up a folder from his desk and opens it. "These are the surveillance reports Thaddeus provided. Would you like to see them?"
I shake my head slowly. "No, sir."
"No, I didn't think so." He flips through the pages. "Romeo Ciresa, seen leaving your dorm room after 10 p.m. You and him, sitting close together over coffee. Him leaning over your shoulder at the library. Leaving your dorm room again. And again—”
"Daddy, please—"
"You were seen leaving a department gala with him. The two of you were gone for over an hour." He closes the folder and looks at me. "Should I continue?"
I knot my fingers together to keep them from trembling. "No, sir."
"Then tell me, in your own words. What happened?"
I take a deep breath, and I begin my performance.
"Romeo is in my graduate seminar. We were assigned to work together on a project.
We started spending time together, studying, discussing our research.
And I—" I pause, letting my voice break slightly.
"I was flattered by his attention. He's intelligent.
He's passionate about the same things I'm passionate about. And I—I let myself get distracted."
"Distracted."
"Yes, sir. I let myself forget about my responsibilities. About my engagement. About—about everything I'm supposed to be. I let myself develop a crush."
"Did you sleep with him?"
The question is so direct, so brutal, that I almost can't answer.
"No," I lie. "No, we never—it never went that far."
"Don't lie to me, Savannah."
"I'm not lying. We—we kissed. A few times.” That, I think, will help convince my father. I don’t think he’ll believe that Romeo never touched me at all.
“But it never—I never—" I'm crying now, real tears that I don't have to fake.
"I never forgot that I'm engaged. I never forgot my duty to this family. "
He's quiet for a long moment, studying me. "Do you love him?" he asks finally.
The question catches me off guard. "What?"
"Do you love Romeo Ciresa?"
I want to say that I don’t know. That I might be. I want to tell him the truth—that being with him makes me feel alive in a way I've never felt before. That leaving him behind feels like tearing out a piece of my soul.
But I can't say that. As much as I want to have a father who might understand, who might put my happiness over the future of this family and social expectation, I know better. I know what matters to this family, and it isn’t a fling with a man who isn’t appropriate for me.
A criminal.
So I lie. "No.” I shake my head. "No, I don't love him. He was—he was a distraction. A mistake. Nothing more."
"And Thaddeus? Do you love him?"
Another impossible question. "I care about Thad. I respect him. I—" I swallow hard, forcing out the lies. "I'm committed to our engagement. To our future together."
"That's not what I asked."
"I know. But it's the truth. I'm committed to Thad. To this family. To—to doing what's right." I don’t think my father really cares if I love Thad. And I can’t bring myself to speak that lie. It feels like a betrayal of Romeo, regardless of what he’s done or what else has happened.
He leans back in his chair, still studying me. "The Ciresa boy—do you know who his father is?"
I nod. "You told me. Dante Ciresa. A—a crime boss."
"Not just a crime boss. One of the most powerful organized crime figures on the East Coast. The kind of man who could destroy careers, ruin lives, make people disappear.
" He pauses. "The kind of man I cannot afford to be associated with.
Our family has been, in the past. It went badly.
That family and ours have nothing to do with each other, now. You cannot be seen with a Ciresa."
I nod, my hands shaking, even though they’re twisted together in my lap. "I understand."
"Do you? Do you understand that it could destroy everything I've worked for?"
"Yes, sir. I understand."
"Good." He stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of me. "Then you'll understand why I'm making the following conditions."
My stomach drops. "Conditions?"
"You'll be allowed to go back to New York. You’ll get to finish your degree, as I promised. But your activities will be monitored more closely. Thaddeus will be visiting more frequently. And you will have no contact—none whatsoever—with Romeo Ciresa."
My chest feels like I’ve been stabbed. But I force myself to sit, stiff and pale, and nod agreeably. "Yes, sir."
"Additionally, the wedding date is being moved up. Your mother nearly fainted at the idea of Christmas, so Thaddeus has suggested next summer, and I agree. That gives you time to finish your first year of graduate school, and then—"
"Next summer?" The words come out before I can stop them. "But that's only—that's less than a year away."
"Yes. And if you're truly committed to Thaddeus, if you're truly done with this—this distraction—then there's no reason to wait."
"But my degree—"
"You can continue your studies after the wedding. Many women manage to balance marriage and education. Thaddeus is willing to compromise and allow your attention to be divided until you finish your degree, so long as the two of you are married. You will move out of the dorms once you’re married and into an apartment that the two of you will share.
He will go back and forth between here and New York. "
"But—"
"This is not a negotiation, Savannah." His voice hardens. "You've proven that you can't be trusted with too much freedom. So we're going to provide more structure. More oversight.” He pauses. "More guidance."
I feel like I'm suffocating. "Yes, sir."
"And if you step out of line again—if there's even a hint of impropriety—I will pull you from the program immediately. The wedding will happen within weeks, not months. Do you understand?"
I feel like I could pass out, like I can’t breathe. This is too much, too fast, but I know I have no room to argue. Nowhere to compromise from here. "Yes, sir."
"Good." He returns to his desk. "You'll stay here for the weekend. We'll have dinner with the Whitmores tomorrow night. You'll apologize to Thaddeus. You'll reassure him of your commitment. And then you'll return to New York on Sunday night before your classes resume on Monday."
I bite my lip hard to keep the tears from falling again. "Yes, sir."
"You're dismissed."
I stand on shaking legs and walk to the door. I need to be alone.
"Savannah?"
I turn back. "I'm disappointed in you," he says quietly. "I raised you to be better than this. To be smarter than this. Don't disappoint me again."
The words hit harder than any punishment could.
"I won't, Daddy. I promise."
I leave the study and make it to my childhood bedroom before I collapse. I've done it. I've convinced him. I've performed perfectly.
And I feel as if I’m broken beyond repair.
—
Dinner with the Whitmores is torturous. I sit perfectly straight, eating in small bites and tasting nothing, while everyone talks over and around me. I make the proper responses and nod and smile, but it’s clear that Thaddeus is not entirely convinced.
He corners me in the hall when he’s supposed to have followed my father to his study for cigars and bourbon after dinner. My mother has retired upstairs. We’re all alone, and I wish more than anything that we weren’t.
“What is it?” I whisper. His face is impassive, devoid of emotion, but I know that I can’t trust anything when it comes to him.
He shifts closer, and I force myself not to step back. He's dressed impeccably as always—pressed slacks, a button-down shirt, and expensive loafers. He looks like he stepped out of a country club catalog.
"I've been very patient with you," he says, his voice cool and patronizing.
"I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for—"
"I don't want your apologies." He cuts me off. "I want your commitment."
"You have it. I'm committed to you, to our engagement—"
"Are you?" He takes another step closer. "Because the surveillance reports suggest otherwise."
"Those reports—they're misleading. Romeo and I were just—"
"I don't care what you were doing with him." His voice is calm. Too calm. "What I care about is that it doesn't happen again."
"It won't. I promise—"
"I know it won't. Because I'm going to make sure of it." He reaches out, his hand closing around my wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make his point. "I've spoken with your father. We've agreed to move the wedding up.”
I feel like I can’t breathe. "I know. Next summer—"
"Yes. And if you're truly committed to me, if you're truly done with your little distraction, then there's no reason to wait." His grip tightens slightly. "Is there?"
"I—no, but—"
"But what? You want more time? More time to do what, exactly? To continue seeing him?"
"No! I'm not seeing him. I told you—"
"You told me a lot of things, Savannah. But I'm not sure I believe you." He pulls me closer, and I can smell his cologne. It’s thick and expensive and cloying, nothing like the intoxicating scent of Romeo’s.
"So we're going to get married. Soon. And then you'll be my wife, and all of this—" He gestures vaguely. "All of this confusion will be over."
"What about my degree?" I want to hear it from him… that he’s going to let me continue. That I’m not going to be trapped, forced out of this thing I want because I’ve married him.
He shrugs. "What about it? You can continue your studies after the wedding. Or you can take a break. Focus on being a wife. On starting a family." His hand moves from my wrist to my waist, possessive. "That's what you want, isn't it? A family?"
"Eventually, yes, but—"
"Then there's no problem." He leans down, his lips brushing my ear. "You're mine, Savannah. You've always been mine. And it's time everyone—including you—remembered that."
I'm shaking now, fear and revulsion warring in my chest. "I remember," I whisper.
"Good." He pulls back, his hand sliding down to squeeze my hip. "I want to see that you're taking this seriously."
Then he walks away, leaving me standing in the hallway and feeling like the walls are closing in from all sides.
My father's ultimatum. Thad's possessiveness. Romeo's desperate love that I had to leave behind. I'm trapped. Completely, utterly trapped. And I don't know how to escape.
I don't know if I even can.