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“Still mad at me?” Dad asks, standing by the doorway of my room.
I don’t look at him. I just continue to pack my things.
Tomorrow, while he leaves for Italy, I’ll be going to Cordelia’s house for the next two months
He’ll be back for the stupid engagement party in five weeks' time, where I’ll be revealed to the world as Peter’s fiancé.
That’s when Peter’s supposed to put his ring on my finger. The ring of fucking doom that will start the countdown to my fate.
Dad walks in and stops right in front of me so I can no longer ignore him.
He takes the cardigan I was folding away and picks up one of my Vogue patterns. It’s an old one Mom had tucked away in her boxes.
“Just like your mother,” he remarks, and the mention of her softens my heart. “She wouldn’t go anywhere without her treasures. No matter how small. We almost missed the flight to our honeymoon because she wanted to take a mannequin with us.”
“You’ve told me that before.” When Mom was alive. This is going to be one of the rare times he mentions her, and it’s going to be to reach me somehow.
“That’s the story that reminds me most of you.” His hard features relax, and he holds my gaze.
Dad and I have barely spoken since that dreadful night when he dropped this bomb on me about marrying Peter. It’s not like us at all to be this way, but I just can’t get my head around it. What’s worse was him saying that was always the plan. If it was, then why didn’t I know about it before?
“I’ve spoken to Peter about college and left the decision with him on whether you go or not. I’ve told him how much it means to you.”
“Dad, his family hates anything like that. They won’t want me to go to college. They’ll want me to get pregnant straight away.” Peter has two strict as fuck aunts who look like trolls. I heard them talking some time ago about what a wife should do.
They’re the kind of women who have an opinion about everything and love the sound of their own voices. I always wondered why Peter couldn’t have lived with them when his parents died, but I guess Dad wanted to be the Good Samaritan because Peter’s father was one of his best friends.
“What would be so bad about that?”
“I’m not ready, and maybe that’s because you never prepared me. You made me believe I could have my dreams. Then you just take it away from me without thinking about how much it would hurt me.”
He sets his hands on my shoulders and stares me deeply in the eyes so I can see the depths of his dark gaze.
“Evangeline, sometimes when you’re a parent, you have to pick your battles. Yes, I had always picked Peter for you, but I didn’t know when your union was going to take place. I didn’t set out to destroy your dreams. Things just happened that way.”
“He would do what you told him to do.” Not that it would make me warm to the idea of marriage any more than I am.
“I would never disrespect another man’s rules for his wife. I will tell him what I want in relation to the business, but I’m not going to tell him what to do with his wife.”
“It’s not fair.”
“Evie, I just wanted you to be with a good man.”
“But he isn’t good.” I retort, and immediately I wish I hadn’t said that.
I haven’t magically conjured up any evidence that proves my suspicions, so I can’t go around with my accusations.
Not only that. When Dante was killed, Dad went on a rampage and terminated anyone with links in any shape or form to the plot to kill him.
I accepted long ago I’d never be able to prove Peter’s part in it, but if the day ever came that I could, I knew I’d need hard evidence because I wouldn’t want his blood on my hands without it.
Cordelia is the only person I’ve shared my suspicions with, and it was her who gave me that warning.
“He’s good in my eyes and good to me, therefore good enough to be my daughter’s husband. This summer, I want you to try and accept him. You’ll have your space to think while you’re at Cordelia, but I’ve given permission for him to visit as often as he wants and for you to do the same. Of course, there are still restrictions, but I’ve loosened them drastically so you can have some breathing space. Okay?”
“Okay.”
All that translates to me is something more to consider when I do find a way to leave.
