They are furious.I even hear some curses in Italian.
“No way!”Daria chides.“That man is a player and changes women like shirts.And each one is more beautiful than the last one.He samples around while he can.He will surely settle down once he finds the perfect queen to be at his side.”
They all agree and go on about who this perfect candidate could be and how she should look to be worthy of him.Apparently she could be a perfect nitwit—that was acceptable as long as she was nice to look at.I groan inwardly, trying my best to hold my tongue before it gets me burned at the stake.
My mind is scattering again when a sentence brings my wandering thoughts to a screeching halt.
“…the perfect opportunity will be during the annual gala the Santaluccia family will hold in their mansion next month.”
I look up with dread.The annual gala is next month?
Oh, hell no!No, no, no!
They are talking excitedly.Of course, this event is the highlight of every year.Shame I missed out during the years of studying out of town.Not.
“Chiara will be stunning in the Vera Wang dress I ordered for her,” Daria proudly declares.Everyone coos and chimes in about what they and their daughters are going to wear.
“How about you, Lily?”Mrs.Rossi asks me, taking me by surprise.
“I, um… I am not sure if I will be able to make it to the gala.Work at the clinic has been crazy and—”
“Nonsense.”Daria interrupts my rambling with a pinched face.“She needs to be there to socialize.She has been missing so many opportunities already.How will she find a husband?”
And be out of here as soon as some unfortunate bloke is willing enough to sweep me away from your house?I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent the thoughts from flying out of my mouth.
All the ladies agree.“That is true.You are twenty-five years old now.Soon you will be too old to get married,” one of them says.
I grit my teeth and stay silent, not pointing out that Chiara also is nearing expiry date with her twenty-six years and she’s still not married.But I won’t do that to her.I hope that she will marry for love one day.
As for me, I want freedom.Twenty-five is way too young to be tied to a place or to someone.
Of course, I’ve had boyfriends in the past.But it never got too far.Some of them wanted more, but I wasn’t ready to commit, so I broke things off when I sensed that things were getting too serious.
“Needless to say, both of my daughters will attend.There is no way we will insult the Head Family by not showing up.”Daria huffs.She doesn’t even grimace when she includes me as her daughter.And just like that, my fate is sealed.
Chapter Six
Lily
Six Weeks Later
The day of the gala feels like my last on earth, like a final walk to the gallows.Not even Chiara’s bubbling excitement can shake the dark cloud hanging over me.She is stunning in her dress—gold silk that hugs her curves perfectly, her skin glowing like it’s been kissed by the sun itself.Daria watches her like a hawk, her eyes sharp, ready to swoop in and reprimand her at the slightest misstep.Chiara’s every move must be flawless.After all, she’s the perfect mafia princess in the making.Poor Chiara.
But at least she won’t be the one dying tonight.
I’d wanted to wear a black dress, maybe a black veil as a dramatic effect for my funeral tonight, but Daria had, of course, ignored my protests and insisted on this halter dress instead.The dress is beautiful, undeniably so, and the rich burgundy color probably makes my eyes stand out and my hair shine in all the right ways.The bodice clings to my body, hugging every curve before flowing effortlessly to the floor, ending at the strappy Jimmy Choo heels Chiara lent me.
The only problem?The scandalously high slit up my right thigh, so daring that I can hardly move without drawing too much attention to it.Clearly Daria is in a hurry to get me out of her house.I can almost hear her thoughts—The faster she’s gone, the better.Let some poor unsuspecting man swipe her away from my house.
I can’t help but ponder sourly that if only she knew how little time I have left, she wouldn’t put in that much effort.
As we walk in, Chiara elbows me and asks in a hushed whisper, “Are you all right?You are weirdly subdued.”
I shrug and tell her that I don’t feel comfortable at this kind of event, which isn’t a lie, and she knows it.
“Just go.Have fun.Why are you still standing here with us?You never do.”
Shit, she noticed.I usually scurry off the moment we arrive to find a quiet corner in the library, an empty office, a suspiciously overgrown hedge in the gardens… Anywhere I can hide and pretend I’m deeply fascinated by the wallpaper or an invisible book.Socializing isn’t exactly my forte.
