Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
So while she was empathetic and nurturing, I could never fully trust her with my secrets… my truth. Lucia and I had some kind of understanding. I accepted her care, and she never delved further into my life.
“Please,” I said, gesturing for her to enter.
Lucia walked in, and behind her two housemaids, whom I didn’t recognize, followed, wheeling in a large clothing rack filled with dresses that swayed gently with each movement.
The fabrics caught the light: silks, satins, and chiffons, in various shades that reminded me of a jeweler’s collection: emerald, sapphire, ruby, and classic black.
Wow, that was a whole unexpected collection. A little fancy and over-the-top but I expected nothing less from Lucia. She always did everything with extreme precision and utmost perfection.
“Your father instructed me to help you prepare for tonight’s dinner.” Lucia dismissed the maids with a gentle nod. “The Salvatore family will be here at seven.”
My stomach tightened. “All of them?”
“Yes, cara,” she said, her tone ever so gentle. Motherly. I didn’t realize how much I missed that until now.
“Your future husband and his family will be formally meeting you tonight.” She ran her hand along the dresses, her fingers caressing the expensive fabrics. “Valentino, Versace, Dior, Prada. Only the finest for you.”
I pushed myself off the bed and moved closer to the rack, touching a midnight blue gown with trembling fingers. Each dress represented another step toward my fate—a fate I was walking into willingly, even while knowing what awaited me.
This is my choice, I reminded myself.
A political, unwilling choice… but my choice, nonetheless.
God, who was I trying to fool?
“Which do you think would please Matteo?” I asked, hating how small my voice sounded.
The gowns hung like elaborate lies, their jeweled necklines catching the light in a way that reminded me of polished shackles.
Lucia’s dark eyes softened. “I think emerald would complement your complexion beautifully.” She pulled out a stunning, deep green dress with a plunging neckline and delicate beadwork. “It will make your eyes shine. You have beautiful hazel eyes.”
As she held it against me, I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. The exquisite color against my pale complexion was a sharp contrast, a striking yet elegant difference. The gown was absolutely stunning. I was worried I would ruin such perfection if I touched it. Ruin it with my flaws.
“What about this one?” I asked, reaching for a black floor-length dress with a high neckline and modest cut.
This seemed more appropriate considering the timing.
Lucia frowned in the reflection. “Too severe. Too... funeral-y. Tonight is about new beginnings, not mourning.”
“Isn’t it though?” The sharp words slipped out before I could stop them.
Lucia hesitated, her hands stilling on the dress. “Serafina…” she sighed, her eyes soft and a little glassy.
“We buried my mother yesterday and now I am choosing my own prison uniform. These beautiful gowns are just accessories to my gilded cage.”
Bitterness coated my tongue as I stared at the gowns, the same acrid flavor that came with swallowing words I wanted to scream.
“I am mourning, Lucia,” I finally admitted shakily.
She pulled the emerald dress away from me and placed it on the bed before guiding me toward my dressing table. “Marriage isn’t always a prison.”
“This one is.”
“Marriage is a sacred bond between two people—”
“Sacred bond?” I huffed. “This is not a normal marriage and we’re not normal people, Lucia. I know what you’re trying to do. But please, don’t sugarcoat my situation to make me feel better. I’m not as fragile or as gullible as you think, so I can take the truth.”
In the mirror, I caught sight of the emerald dress on the bed. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Each dainty stitch, each crystal embellishment was another link in the chain I was willingly clasping around my own ankles.
Lucia began brushing my hair and I sat still. She was a great hairstylist and I knew she’d come up with something elegant for tonight. “You are right, nothing is normal about this relationship,” she agreed with a sigh. “And this is a fact you’d have to accept. Make the best of what you got. Marriage is made up of compromises and commitment. And in your case, there is—”
“A lot to compromise on?”
She pursed her lips. “Well, yes.”
How fortunate for me.
I should have stayed away from those romance books and never let myself get swept away by their love stories. Flawed yet beautiful love stories. I read too many of them, and silly me, had started to dream of something more. Something romantic and passionate.
I knew marriage was a lifelong commitment, and it would get messy sometimes. But every woman desired a loving, caring and committed partner.
For a moment, I was too gullible and forgot I wasn’t allowed to dream. To want. To feel.
“What is he like?” I whispered. “The real Matteo, not the man my father describes.”