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Other than Rosa coming to bring me the weirdest possible lunch I could have imagined – some kind of dark-coloured sausage with a single burning candle stuck into it – I’ve been alone all day. I haven’t heard from Willow. Or my father. Despite the fact that he’s the one who’s put us in this situation, I can’t help but worry about him. I wonder where he is. And I wonder if Elio knows.
But I don’t get any answers, and the day ticks by into afternoon. Around 4pm, a quick knock sounds at the door that leads from Elio’s room into the hallway, and then Valentina breezes in.
At least she knocked, I think with an internal sigh. And honestly, I’m glad she’s here. The isolation was killing me.
Her arms are loaded with stuff. She’s dragging a suitcase on wheels, along with what looks like a few garment bags slung over her shoulder. She gives me a dazzling smile and strolls through Elio’s room into mine, dumping all the garment bags on the bed that Rosa made when she came in to deliver the lunch I didn’t eat.
“Hellooo,” Valentina says in a sing-song voice as she turns to face me, hands on her hips. She looks drop-dead gorgeous, with perfect contouring, smoky eye-shadow, fake eyelashes, and bright pink lips. Her hair looks like it’s been professionally done – freshly blown-out in big, luscious waves. Her outfit seems slightly out of step with her hair and makeup. She’s wearing simple black leggings and a plain black T-shirt.
“Hi,” I say, confused by the sudden apparition of her. “What’s all that?” I ask, jerking my chin at the stuff she’s put on the bed.
“Dresses and shoes. I would have brought makeup, but I’ve already filled your bathroom’s drawers with it.”
I hear her words and absorb their meaning in a literal sense, but find myself staring at her with a complete lack of understanding. She doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of response. She just bends over, lays the suitcase flat, and opens it. Inside are about ten lumps wrapped in paper. As she unwraps them, I see that these are the shoes she was talking about. Each pair looks brand-new and unimaginably expensive.
“I don’t know your size, so I aimed for the middle. Most of these are between seven and eight, but I have a couple size six pairs, and even a nine somewhere in here.”
“Those… those are for me?” I ask, frowning and staring down at the beautiful shoes she’s unwrapping like presents. “Why?” Is this some kind of weird work uniform Elio wants? I usually wear flats when I play. Wearing heels alters your posture, and can change the quality of the performance if you’re not actively aware of it.
“For the gala tonight!” Valentina straightens. “Elio didn’t tell you?”
I snort at that. The guy hasn’t told me anything besides the fact that he basically owns me now.
Valentina rolls her eyes. “Typical. Titone men hate opening their mouths unless they’re discussing business.” She turns to the bed now, unzipping the three garment bags. “There’s a gala at the AGO tonight. We paid for a new wing and tonight’s a private opening night. Elio wants you there.”
Nerves flutter in my stomach. I squeeze my hands together and press them against my belly.
“Am I the musician playing tonight?” God, I’m completely unprepared for this! Playing for the duration of an entire gala… That’s hours. I don’t have songs picked out or rehearsed, and I don’t know if there’s a band I need to fit into. The thought of performing at an event of that calibre with less than a day’s warning makes me feel like I’m going to throw up. Having consumed nothing but water and two sips of espresso probably isn’t helping in that department, either.
But Valentina shakes her head and turns around to face me again.
“God, no!” she says, sounding shocked. She shakes her head again and hastily adds, “No offense. But I booked the band months ago.”
“Oh.” It comes out more like a relieved sigh than a word. “Then what will I be doing there?” Maybe they need a last-minute server or something.
Valentina taps a long, polished beige fingernail against her chin.
“You’ll be there as Elio’s… Honestly, I don’t know. Date?”
Date.
The word skewers me, and the relief I felt a moment ago vanishes, replaced once again with nausea.
“That’s not possible,” I sputter.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I asked him if he was bringing anyone and he said you. He wants you all dolled up, too. I brought some dresses to try…” Her words trail off as her eyes widen. “Fuck me, you’re pale. I mean, you’re already pale, but I didn’t know somebody living could get that white. Good thing I’ve got a shitload of blush and bronzer in the bathroom.”
I can feel what she sees – the quick exit of blood from my face.
Valentina’s eyes narrow, her thick lashes fluttering heavily.
“What have you eaten today?”
“Eaten?” I echo woozily.
She mutters something under her breath and quickly closes the distance between us. She’s shorter than me but surprisingly strong as she grasps my elbow and leads me to sit on a small chair over by the desk and music stand.
“Don’t tell me my cousin hasn’t been feeding you,” she snaps.
