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It's not nothing, but for the time being, I take his word for it. We need to focus on Marzia and Vitto. If father wants to keep his secret, whatever it is, a while longer, so be it.
"Like I said," he goes on. "We will wait until after the wedding to go forth with our plan."
"After the wedding?" I rub my temples. "You can't be serious. He'll get his hands on her by then. He'll fuck her. She might even be goddamn pregnant by-"
"Language," father roars, glaring at me. "How many fucking times do I have to remind you?"
I don't apologize. I just glare at him, eyes burning with anger. "There are more important things at stake here than a stupid curseword."
"There is nothing more important than respecting your God." Father waves his hand dismissively. "This conversation is over. Go fuck a girl, get your mind off Marzia De Luca. She's old news. You don't bring this up with me again. Not until I tell you we're ready."
"But father, I-"
"I said we're done." His voice is calm and leaves no room for argument. I'm pissed off, but I don't argue with him. I'm not as rebellious as Cillian and my father's respect still means something to me. Instead, my lips form a thin line and I walk out of father's office, fighting the urge to slam the door behind me as I leave.
Santino calls out to me as I leave the office, but I ignore him, walking straight past him. He knows better than to bother me when I'm in this mood, and I storm straight up to my quarters where I find the golden chain with the wedding band under my pillow.
I held onto it for eleven years. Eleven years, the memory of the bambina in the red-and-white polka dot dress followed me, reminding me Marzia De Luca was supposed to be mine. Eleven years of holding that chain, thinking about what she must look like now. She's eighteen years old now - fair game as far as I'm concerned.
I don't agree with my father. It's one of those rare cases where I refuse to swallow my pride and do as he says, because the thought of my girl with that cazzo Vitto is too much to fucking handle. I'll never let them get married. She'll wear his wedding ring over my dead fucking body.
I'll go up against my own father if I have to. Anything to steal Marzia De Luca away from Donati. His family may own the docks of Palermo, but I'll be damned if I let him own my fucking woman before me.
My fingers tighten around the chain, the gold links digging painfully into my palm. But I don't notice the pain. I don't notice anything, too consumed by my fervent rage and desire to get back at Vitto Donati.
Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but I'm an impatient man, and I'm ready for my meal right. Fucking. Now.
4
Marzia
The masquerade party to celebrate my unwilling engagement to Vitto Donati has already begun. And yet I'm not there yet. There's something I must do before my engagement to Vitto is announced. Something I've been dreading even more than the party itself.
I will see Vitto again for the first time in years. My parents have already told me Vitto is looking forward to seeing me again, but I'm dreading this. I know he'll want something from me as a sign of my devotion, and I have nothing to give him. And it's enough that I lied to my parents about losing my grandmother's wedding ring when I really gave it to Adrian Bernardi. But I'll never admit that. If I did, I'd be punished severely, and the door to my gilded cage would be locked forever.
There's a reason my parents trust me - because I've worked hard not to break that trust. I learned it through years of obeying mama and papa, doing everything they tell me. But I'm more than eager to be done with it now. I don't want to listen to anyone anymore. I want a life that is my own. But as my maid laces me into a too-tight corset, I know full well that's never going to happen. My parents were my captors for the first eighteen years of my life, and now that honor will go to Vitto - my husband to be.
My maid, Lucia, helps prepare me for the masquerade party that is already happening downstairs. Even though it's my party, my parents won't allow me to attend for longer than two hours. So while everyone is having fun in the grand hall of our Palermo mansion, I'm confined to my own quarters and Lucia’s torture with the strings of the corset.
"Just breathe in deeper," she asks. "Just a little deeper, signorina, we need to get this tight as can be."
