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Sophia
Most little girls dream of their wedding day. I was no different growing up. It’s funny how your youth blinds you to reality. Maybe if I had been born into a normal family, I’d still be fantasizing about my big day, but I was not. I was born a Scalingi. It didn’t take me long to notice that my family was different. We don’t play by the same rules as everyone else. Even the kids at school stayed away from me. I’d heard their parents whispering not to play with me. It only pushed me to stay among my own family and the people they brought around. They were all I had. All I knew. It’s not my fault that most of my family members aren't good people. I didn’t choose this life, and I would never get to.
I lie on the bed looking at the garment bag that hangs in my closet, and my stomach turns at what’s to come. I want to run, but I know that’s not an option. Where would I go? They would find me no matter where I hid. There is no escaping this life. They know I can’t escape. I’d never leave my little brother Marco behind. I can't be positive they wouldn’t use him against me.
Hell, for all I know, he could become like our own father and grandfather one day, but right now, he’s the only person I truly love on this earth. There’s still hope for him to grow up and be different than those ruthless men. He’s the one thing that can hurt me, and they all know it. They haven't used him as a threat, but they wouldn’t hesitate if I decided to buck their authority. There’s not a line my father wouldn’t cross to get what he wants. I don’t have to be told the rules to know what they are. So I do as I’m supposed to. I knew this day would come, the day I’d be sold to some made man looking for a mafia princess. It is common for daughters to be married off, but it’s as though they were counting down the seconds until I turned eighteen to hand me over. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve accepted my fate in the name of giving Marco a chance.
I don’t want to marry Antonio Tuscani, but my grandfather has other plans for me. I almost can’t stomach being in the same room as my vile groom, but I’ll walk down the aisle to give him my hand in marriage in only a few hours. All to please my family. All to be loyal. All for Marco. Marriages in my family aren’t about love, but power and position. I’m a pawn in this game of chess. My grandfather, Pasquale, by using me, will guarantee our family’s position, and my father, Lorenzo, will do whatever my grandfather orders. From any angle, I’m screwed.
Not wanting to stare at the bag any longer, I roll over. A tear slips out of my eye, but I quickly wipe it away. There’s no use crying because it won’t change anything.
My family name is too important to me. I was raised to honor it, and that’s what I plan to do. That’s what we're told time and time again as we’re growing up. Nothing else matters. There is no loyalty except to family. I’m so mired in it that it’s always an inner battle to determine right from wrong. That’s the crazy thing about families like mine. We speak of loyalty, love and respect, yet those things only apply if you do as you’re told.
I sit up, knowing I need to get ready. Normal weddings like these between two powerful families would have been twice the size of the one I’m having. There were only two hundred people invited to watch the Scalingi and Tuscani affair. Only the top of our society merited an invite for the merger. That’s what I’ve been calling this wedding in my head--a business transaction. A merger of fortunes and old names. This marriage will solidify us as one of the most powerful families. That’s why they’re rushing to get it done. At least that’s what I think. I'm not privy to any of those details because I’m not allowed to ask such questions. Even though it’s supposed to be a smaller occasion, no expense will be spared. We have an image to maintain. I’m surprised my room isn't already being bombarded by people hired to get me ready.
I pick up my Kindle and hide it under my pillow before heading into the bathroom. I love my books. The only happily ever after I have to look forward to is one that I’ll read about, but my father tries to discourage my reading habit. Wouldn’t want me to get any “ideas” or anything like that.
I stop when I catch my own reflection in the mirror. It's as though my mom is staring back at me. I step closer to it, reaching out to touch it. It’s a reminder of how alike we looked. My heart aches that she won’t be here today. I know she wouldn't have been able to stop this wedding from happening, but I also know that I could have leaned on her. She would’ve made me feel better in some way. She always did, was always there for me.
Then one day she was gone without explanation. How long has it been? Five years ago almost to the day. I still haven’t accepted that she isn’t coming back.
I swallow, fighting back the tears. I won’t cry. I told myself I wouldn't, but these tears aren't because of the forced marriage I’m about to enter, but for everything else that will be forced upon me tonight. They are for my innocence that will be stripped from me by a man that I loathe, and for the mother who’s gone, the one I suspect was taken away from me. I keep the tears at bay, and I search for my anger. It always serves me better. It helps to keep me numb. I don’t know who took her from me, but I know it was someone within these walls. My grandfather or my own father. Neither of them seemed affected by her absence. They went on with life as if she never existed.
I couldn’t forget her, couldn’t toe the line and pretend her absence was normal. So I asked once. I still have the small scar on my forehead where my father had backhanded me. One of his gaudy rings left that little present right on the hairline. I can easily hide the mark with my hair. I often do. Other times I let it show because I know it makes my grandfather angry. Not that my dad had hit me, of course, but that he’d left a mark. Pasquale Scalingi didn’t want anyone damaging the goods and foiling his plan to sell me off to the highest bidder.
I turn when I hear the soft double knock. It’s my little brother’s signature. When I open the door, he looks about as excited as I am today. If it weren’t for him, I probably would’ve tried to make a run for it. I may not know what happened to my mom, but I do know that if she had the opportunity to have last words with me, she would have told me to protect my brother. She didn't have to say them for me to know. When it comes to loyalty and this family, mine falls with her even though she’s not here. Maybe one day I’ll get my chance to find out what happened to her. To get my own revenge in her name. That thought alone is the one that always reminds me I really am a Scalingi.
“How you holding up?” Marco asks.
I fake a smile. “I’m good.”
“Liar,” he says before pushing past me into my bedroom. For only being fifteen, he’s already bigger than our father. Hell, he’s bigger than my husband-to-be. I fear every day he’s going to turn into one of them, one of the hard men that doesn’t care about anything but power. It’s then that the lines will really start to blur for me. I love my brother, and he could probably do a lot of messed-up stuff and I’d keep on loving him. Still, I know in my heart that he’s different.
He frowns at my dress, then scrubs a hand down his face. “I hate this shit.”
“Don’t start.” I point my finger at him. “This has to be done. If it wasn't Antonio, it would have been someone else.”
“Fucking bullshit.” My brother paces back and forth in front of my bed. I grab his arm and school my expression, letting him know that I’m serious, showing him that this is what needs to be done.
“It’s fine.”
He stops pacing to look down at me, and I can easily see that it’s not ‘fine’ at all. Not for him. Not for me. “You sound like Mom.”
I glance away from Marco and swallow the lump in my throat. I won’t show him that I’m scared for today.
He favors our mother more than our father, but he has that Scalingi blood in his veins too. He can be reckless, and that’s the last thing I want today. If he lets his emotions get the best of him, he puts his life on the line. I think my mom got reckless. Maybe she tried to run. Only God knows what really happened, but I can’t risk something happening to Marco. Neither of us has the luxury of following our heart.
“Did you get them for me?” I ask, changing the subject. This wedding is happening no matter what. There’s no sense in dwelling on it now. The deed is pretty much done. “Marco, please tell me you got what I need.”
“You make me feel like a drug dealer.” He pulls out a bag and hands it to me.
“Pretty sure our whole family is a bunch of drug dealers,” I half joke as I snatch the bag from him.
“Still fucking weird getting my sister birth control pills.”
I don’t disagree, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do. I’m not going to be bringing a baby into this world. When I found out I was being married off, I’d immediately gone to my brother about getting them. He didn't ask why. He knew. He understood, and then he got the pills for me despite the risk.
He leans down, kissing me on the forehead. “It’s just so fucking wrong, Soph.”
