Chapter 4
FRANKIE
When I was a kid, I used to stand in front of the open refrigerator after school, convinced that if I stared hard enough, something delicious would magically appear.
That wishful thinking didn’t work then, and it’s no more effective now as I gaze into my dated closet, glaring into the expanse of crappy clothes.
I literally have nothing appropriate to wear to my dinner with Dante tonight, and thanks to Jessica’s bitchy comments, I’m even more worried about it than I was before.
Jessica.
I throw down the hanger in my hand and grab a handful of other outfits.
No. No, no, and no. I toss them all onto the ever-growing reject pile, my emotions still swinging violently between rage and desperation.
My fiancé isn’t just an asshole, he’s a philandering asshole.
And to make matters worse? He’s doing it with an employee.
Someone I’ll probably have to see more than I’d like, considering I’m marrying into the family business.
Though why I ever thought he’d be loyal to me is anybody’s guess.
Still, it’s not the kind of relationship I want for myself.
I know I deserve better. I deserve love and kindness and gentleness and real connection.
The kind of relationship where we can curl up on the couch and talk about our day, or laugh over stupid television commercials, or just sit in comfortable silence and appreciate each other.
Longing stirs in me with a familiar pang. My eyes burn, and I realize I have to put away any possibility of experiencing true love or fidelity in this marriage. Those are childish wishes, the dreams of a teenager with a crush and hopes for a rosy-pink future.
The kind of dreams that only get people into trouble anyway.
My cell vibrates on my vanity. I answer Charlie’s call and put my phone on speaker.
“Tell me everything,” she chirps. “I want all the juicy details about your meeting with Dante. Wait, but first tell me the plan for the winery. What are they thinking for expansion, or wait, are they even keeping our winery as a winery or are they going to—oh no, they’re not going to shut it down, are they?
Where am I going to run my business, then?
Will we still have jobs? I can’t stand all these unknowns! Why aren’t you saying anything?”
I’m sure Charlie’s been on pins and needles with the uncertainty. She’s been operating an event planning business from our winery for the past two years and things have really taken off.
“Because there’s nothing to say. We never got that far. He left before I even finished introducing myself.”
“What? You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.” I relay the events, cringing as I relive the abject failure and embarrassment of those sparse minutes in Dante’s office. “Also I think he’s screwing his assistant. I mean, it’s pretty obvious.”
“Oh my God.” Charlie takes a pointed breath. “Look, sis, the only way you have a chance in hell of surviving this marriage is to set some ground rules.”
“Ground rules? He wouldn’t give me the time of day. I barely said my name before he stormed out, and that woman—who was definitely not in appropriate office attire, might I add—basically tossed me out!”
She huffs and I imagine her flopping onto her sofa with a hand over her eyes, the way she does when she’s stressed. If I can’t manage a short introductory meeting with my own fiancé, how am I going to be able to set any rules?
“Look, Char. Dante doesn’t really want me.
He’s not interested. He’s just after the business and for some crazy reason, maybe just to make an example of Dad, he decided he’d take a wife to go with it.
Point is, I’m insignificant in this transaction.
I promise I’ll do everything I can to protect our family, and our jobs, but…
it’s pretty unlikely I’ll be able to negotiate with him. ”
She huffs again, this time sounding personally insulted. “You can’t just let this jerk walk all over you. Are you going to be the doormat, Frankie? Just lie there and let him and his slut wipe their shoes all over you? I don’t think so. You’re an Abbott, and we do not lie down for anybody.”
I sink onto my bed and rub my eyes. “Fine, then what do you expect me to do?”
“Grow a pair!” she barks through the speakerphone.
“Go back over there and figure this out. Make him listen to you. Make him take your damn hand for a proper shake while you say, ‘Hello, Dante. I’m Francesca. Your soon-to-be wife.’ If you let him act like this now, you’ll never have a leg to stand on later. ”
She’s right. She’s so right. But going back to the Bellanti winery and facing Humiliation, Round Two is more than I want to take on right now. I still feel sick from Round One.
“I have dinner with him in a few hours. That will give me time to prepare. And, you know, work on my courage.”
“Okay, good. I know you’re probably still shellshocked by all this. It was a shock to everyone.” Her voice trails off and then she picks her way into the next sentence. “So, uh…have you talked to Rico since you got home?”
It’s my turn to let loose a dramatic huff. The urge to hang up the phone nearly overtakes me, but I don’t. Instead I flop back onto the bed with a groan.
“No, I haven’t spoken to Rico, nor will I, so drop it.”
“But—”
A pang of longing goes through me. “I said drop it, Charlie.”
“Okay, okay. Dropping it.”
Clearing my throat, I get up and rummage through my closet again. It’s hopeless. Nothing spectacular magically appeared while I wasn’t looking. Dammit.
“I hear hangers clicking. Are you digging through your closet?”
“Yes.”
“Did you make a huge pile on the floor that you’re contemplating setting on fire?”
“Y…es.”
She snickers and it pulls a laugh out of me. “It’s hopeless, Charlie. I’ve got nothing.”
“Nonsense. Just pull out your most alluring dress and wear that.”
There’s a stretch of silence in which I wait for her to realize what she just said, and what my reply is going to be.
She knows as well as I do that I never cared much for clothes, and that my wardrobe hasn’t miraculously updated itself while I’ve been in Tuscany.
She’s the sister with the latest designer everything.
She’s always been way more fashion focused than me and Liv.
“You’re going to say you don’t have anything alluring, aren’t you?” she says with a sigh.
“Yep. Which especially sucks after Mr. Bellanti’s assistant specified that he prefers his women in clothes from this century.”
Charlie gasps. “Bitch!”
“Bitch,” I agree.
“Hmm.” The sound of hangers clacking together through the phone makes me grin. Charlie is in her closet, rummaging through her boutique-quality wardrobe. She makes sounds of contemplation as she rifles through. “I have a lot here. You have time to run over real quick?”
“My boobs are way bigger than yours,” I point out. “And you’re taller with a slimmer waist and hips. I doubt you have anything that will work for me.”
“Oh, screw your tig old biddies! I’ve got the perfect thing. I’ll have a courier bring it right over.”
I know from experience that nothing my sister owns will fit me right, but I’m not about to argue with her. “Okay, if you think it will fit.”
“It will fit. Call me as soon as you leave the dinner tonight. I won’t be able to sleep until I know how it goes! Oh, and send me a pic of you in the dress. Gotta run. Love you!”
She clicks off. I stare at the mute phone for a moment before returning to my pile of useless clothes. After cleaning up the mess, I assess myself in the bathroom mirror.
My makeup still looks decent, but it could use a touch-up before dinner.
I could beg Livvie to help me again, but soon she and Charlie won’t be here to glam me up every time I need it.
If this marriage agreement requires that I make a lot of appearances with my husband, I’m going to need to step up my primp game.
The Bellantis seem to always have their hands in something.
They’re at every event, every party. Every wedding and business grand opening. Every winery seasonal opener.
I never imagined myself in this kind of life. I always thought I’d run the family winery behind the scenes, not be at the forefront of it. That was supposed to be Charlie’s job, and Livvie too, with her bubbly personality. Eventually.
To think that she could be in my place right now, getting ready for dinner with a Bellanti. Sold as part of a business deal. I can only imagine what all this would do to her tender spirit, her warm, loving heart. No, a man like Dante Bellanti doesn’t deserve someone like Livvie.
Charlie is right. I need to grow a pair, maybe two, and set some rules with my fiancé. I don’t want to be a doormat any more than I want to be his wife, but at least I can have some say in how our marriage operates.
The sound of the doorbell sends me rushing down the stairs.
The courier is at the door, just as Charlie promised, holding out a white garment bag with a designer’s name stamped on it in gold foil.
I’m a little too curious to see what’s inside—excited, even.
Though I wish I were dressing for a different occasion. Something to actually be excited about.
Back in my room, I set the bag on the bed and unzip it. The dress still has the tags on it—it’s clearly brand new, and just purchased in my size.
It’s a beautifully rich purple, the exact shade to bring out the violet undertones in my blue eyes.
I stroke the silk charmeuse, which feels ridiculously expensive.
Slipping into it in front of my mirror, a little shiver goes through me.
The dress clings like a second skin while still managing to keep me completely covered from neck to mid-calf.
The neckline hugs the base of my throat, there’s artful draping over the bust, and the fitted waist gives me a slim line.
Long sleeves slightly flutter at the wrist, making me feel demure yet sexy.
It’s the perfect combination of date night and business.
I have to admit, it shows off my figure perfectly without giving too much away. This isn’t an occasion that I’m excited about by any means, and I hate that I have to do this.
But thank goodness for sisters who make me look hot while I do.