LOVE?
D ante holds my hand as we walk through the garden.
It feels… good, comfortable even.
Apparently, he’s not much of a talker. We’ve been walking for several minutes, and he hasn’t said a word. I don’t mind silence, but since we’re going to get married, I suppose we’ll have to get to know each other eventually
“So… how old are you?” I ask.
He smiles faintly. “Twenty-five. You?”
“Twenty-one. I’ll turn twenty-two after the wedding… Do you have a job?”
The moment the question leaves my lips, I regret it. What kind of question is that? Of course he has a job!
“Yes,” he answers.
I nod, unsure of how to continue. Not that I’m particularly interested in what he does for a living, anyway.
“I don’t,” I admit after a pause, my gaze drifting to the empty pool beside us. It’s been unused for years—my father never let us swim in it. “Though I guess that’s obvious. I wouldn’t be able to look after our children if I did.”
Dante caresses my hand with his thumb. “You won’t ask me what I do?”
“Nope. It’s not something I should care about.”
All I must care about is making sure there’s food on the table and keeping my legs open in bed.
Disgusting.
He sighs. “There are a lot of things that need to change, starting with that.”
I stop in my tracks. A breeze whips through my hair, and some strands stick to my mouth. This bloody lip gloss!
Dante brushes my hair away and cups my cheeks in his hands.
Oh God. He’s going to kiss me.
He’s. Going. To. Kiss. Me.
This will be my first kiss… my first proper kiss.
My breath hitches as he caresses my cheeks and smiles, but he doesn’t lean closer. Why isn’t he kissing me? He won’t know if I’m good at it unless he does. He’ll be so disappointed if he doesn’t find out until the wedding.
“Everything your parents made you believe, you must forget, ragnetta . I’m not like them.”
“Are you worse?”
I mentally facepalm. My father always told me to think before I speak, but apparently, I can’t even manage that.
Dante laughs softly, shaking his head. “I want to keep you safe. To do that, I need you to trust me.”
“I… I can’t trust you. I just met you.”
He pats my head.
Pats. My. Head.
“That’s why we’re going to spend a lot of time together from now on.” He offers me his arm, and I hesitantly take it. “Consider me a friend.”
“A friend I have to kiss?”
“A friend you’ll eventually kiss, yes.”
I sigh, glancing up at him. A wide grin spreads across his face.
“Do you want to get married?” I ask.
From what I’ve heard, people my age don’t want marriage. If they do, it’s because of an arrangement like this.
He’s good-looking, he has a job, and he must have money. Why would he want this? Or is he as stuck in this as I am, all because of our parents? Shoot, is his father an arsehole too?
“I want to do whatever you want to, amore ,” Dante says. “But yes, I do want to marry you.”
I blush, and my heart pounds hard in my chest.
“Why?”
He looks at me with calm, steady eyes. “I know the way he treats you, ragnetta . And the only way to get you out of here is to make you mine.”
To make you mine.
But then… he’ll own me. And everything will be the same. A cheating husband—a beating husband. Me, spreading my legs for him. Him, using me until he breaks me or gets bored. Filling me with his babies.
Nausea strikes again.
“You want me to get you out of this house, sweetheart?”
Yes, but I don’t want to get married. Damnit.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I want to leave?”
“Be a good girl, püppchen,” my father’s voice reminds me.
I’ve heard those words so many times. Every time he says them, something goes wrong. He either touches me, punches me, or makes me do things I don’t want to.
Dante sighs softly and wipes my hand again. We continue our walk in silence, and, to my surprise, for the first time, I don’t feel uncomfortable with someone, even after our talking.
Every now and then, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, only to catch him looking at me—or he catches me looking at him. Either way, my cheeks flush, embarrassed by the attention and the fact that I’ve been caught.
I know I’m pretty. Everyone says I’m a carbon copy of my mum, which has led to more than one disgusting conversation, even with my father. Mum is the most beautiful woman I know, and I don’t say that just because she’s my mum.
But Dante doesn’t look at me like I’m a piece of meat, or as if he wants to devour me. He looks at me as if I’m a piece of art.
He’s not looking. He’s admiring .
And damn it, he looks beautiful doing it. He doesn’t seem like a bad person, and for some inexplicable reason, it feels like I already know him.
I can’t let him get attached to this... to me . I’m nothing but trouble.
“I wasn’t a drug addict,” I blurt out, stopping as we get near the house. “I wasn’t a prostitute, either.”
His jaw tightens, and his gaze hardens. For a moment, I wonder if I should’ve stayed silent. “Why are you telling me this, sweetheart?” His voice is calm, but there’s something sharp in his tone.
“I—Did my father pay you to marry me? Or did your family arrange this?”
“ Amore —”
“I don’t understand why you want to marry me if neither of those is the case. Marriage is business, and—”
“Marriage can be business,” Dante interrupts, his voice soft but firm, “but it can also be about love.”
“ Love ?” I echo, disbelief dripping from the single word.
No one gets married out of love. The only love that exists is between parents and children. My mother loves me, loves us—Tara and me. My father loves my brothers, for some reason... but my parents don’t love each other. There’s no love between a husband and wife.
“Marriage isn’t an obligation or a duty,” Dante insists. “It’s a choice. You choose to be with someone for the rest of your life. Why would you want to be with someone you don’t love?”
“But you—”
“I know you don’t know me,” his tone softens even more.
“And I know there’s no way you could love me or even trust me yet, but I’ll make sure you fall in love with me.
You won’t even realise it’s happening. It’ll be as easy as breathing, and it’ll feel so good that you’ll be the one asking me to stay close to you. ”
I frown. I understand he might have lost his marbles, since he’s acquainted with my father, but this is completely unexpected.
“With all due respect,” I say, keeping my voice steady, “I don’t think I could ever fall in love with someone who agrees to an arranged marriage. You made a deal—that’s certainly not love.”
“What about falling in love with someone who wants to save you?”
My stomach clenches. “I don’t need—”
“I know German, sweetheart.”
He heard us. He knows how he is treating me.
I’m scrambling for something to say when my father’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and commanding. “Time to leave. I need to speak with my daughter. Alone .”
Dante nods but doesn’t break eye contact with me.
Taking both of my hands in his, he leans in close, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers, “If he dares to touch you, beat you, or insult you, tell him I’m watching.”
Before pulling away, he presses a kiss to my cheek. “Stay with me, ragnetta , and I’ll take you out of this hell. I promise.”
My father didn’t want to talk to me. He just wanted Dante to leave.
Mum comes into my room and stands behind me as I sit in front of my dressing table.
She’s wearing an apron, and her ginger hair tucked up in a bun; she must have been cooking.
Her fingers gently work through the tangles in my hair.
I hate when she does this, but these are the only moments where there’s peace in this house—in my life.
Besides, Mum cherishes these small moments together. I won’t ruin it for her.
“What do you think, love?” she asks softly, her sad smile reflected in the mirror.
“He’s... interesting.”
“Did ye like him?”
I can’t help but smile. Mum’s accent always comes out when she’s trying to cheer me up.
She knows I love it, even though she tries to hide it because my father hates it.
Once, I teased her about it, and she laughed.
Really laughed. But my father beat me so badly afterwards that I passed out.
Now it’s practically forbidden to use it.
I guess she’s making an exception because of the circumstances.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “He’s weird. He talked about love, but how could there be love if we don’t even know anything about each other?”
She sighs and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.
“There’s a lot of things your father does, pet, that no reasonable or normal man would consider doin’.”
“Dante is normal?” I ask hesitantly.
Mum chuckles softly, shaking her head.
“At the very least, he’s far more normal than your father,” she replies. “You must trust him, pet. Please.”
“Why?”
She pauses for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “Just do it. In time, you’ll understand. I’ve no doubt you’ll come to love him. He’s a remarkable man, truly.”
“You know him?”
“No, not personally,” she admits, resuming her gentle work on my hair. “But he has a reputation, and from all I’ve heard, it’s a fine one.”
A few seconds pass before she stops brushing my hair again, her hands lingering for a moment before she cups my shoulders, meeting my eyes in the mirror.
“Please, mo chroí 4 ,” she says, her voice soft. “Give him a chance. He’s nothin’ like your father.”
“It’s just… I’m scared.”
She sighs deeply. “I know, pet. But I promise, love is a beautiful thing. There’s nothin’ you should fear, a stór. 5 ”
But it isn’t love that frightens me. It’s the fact that he’s a man, and every man I’ve known has been violent, manipulative, or worse. Even my own brothers.
I don’t want to fall in love with someone like that.
I don’t want to live like my mum.
I don’t want to keep living like this.
Notes:
4. Mo chroí: My heart/Heart
5. A stor: Treasure.