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“I’m sorry. Mom and Dad say we’re not allowed to be friends anymore.”
Nicole’s eyes are huge. My best friend of thirteen years is terrified. Even though I already know the answer, I can’t help but blurt, “But why?”
She closes her locker and holds her books tight against her chest. “They said if your Dad wants you to marry Salvatore Fiore, then it means he’s gone bad.”
Gone bad. Corrupt.
Plenty of people look up to Salvatore in Coldlake, but plenty of people fear him, too. I take a step toward my friend but she shrinks away as if I’ve turned into Salvatore himself.
“I don’t want to marry him. I’m notgoingto marry him. This isn’t my choice and I’m going to find a way out of this. I don’t have a plan yet, but maybe you can help me?”
Nicole’s expression softens. We always used to help each other out of messes when we were kids. She accidentally let her little brother overhear her saying that Santa wasn’t real one Christmas, and I helped her fake a visit from Santa and his reindeer with gnawed carrots and glitter in the driveway. It wasn’t sophisticated but it kept the magic alive for the three-year-old boy a little longer.
Helping me call off a wedding to one of the most notorious men in Coldlake is hardly in the same league, but she doesn’t need to come up with a perfect solution. I’ll settle for her moral support.
Nicole bites her lip, and shakes her head. “Mom and Dad said that if I stay friends with you, I won’t be allowed to go to school here anymore. I’m sorry, Chiara.” Tears fill her eyes and she turns away, head down, walking fast.
My last true friend in this world.
I look around at the girls who are staring at me, most of whom were standing at the school gate yesterday watching me and Salvatore. Some look scared. Some shocked. Some give me sharp, knowing smiles, and I realize that they must belong to families who are on the side of men like my promised husband. They’re the last girls I want as my friends. No one decent will ever want to be my friend again.
I grab my books out of my locker and push past everyone, keeping my head down so my hair hides my face. Until a few weeks ago, I would have said that Coldlake was full of love and respect toward me. Everywhere I went, someone had a smile for me and knew my name. It’s taken one vile man’s reputation to make me see that I took that respect completely for granted.
The rest of the school day crawls by, with everyone whispering behind their hands as I pass them in the halls. Even the teachers give me fearful looks.
Salvatore Fiore and the mayor’s daughter. It’s as incongruous as Minnie Mouse marrying Darth Vader.
As soon as the final bell rings, I grab my bag and run for the school gate. There’s no sign of Salvatore, but I didn’t expect there to be. He already staked his claim and made me notorious in my own school. Job done.
As I walk quickly down the street, I keep my head down so no one can see the tears leaking from my eyes. I wanted one place where I could feel normal, and he’s stolen even that from me.
At home I go upstairs and straight to my room, trying to lose myself in my homework. I’ve got so much to catch up on but it takes all my energy just to concentrate on the words in my biology textbook. Ten minutes later, I realize that I’ve read the same paragraph over and over without absorbing any of it, and I put down my pen.
An insidious voice at the back of my mind whispers that it doesn’t matter if I understand biology or not. The course of my life is already fated. Marriage to Salvatore, and then a lifetime by his side and bearing his children. My mind drifts as I gaze out the window onto the garden. My home will be just as grand, if not more so, than the one I’m living in right now. I picture myself with a toddler in a pretty dress and another baby in my arms, and my heart twists with longing. I’ve always wanted children, and for a moment I picture them with Salvatore’s blue-green eyes. Any man, even as hard-hearted as Salvatore is, would love such beautiful children, and he’d protect us ruthlessly. Wouldn’t he?
A moment later, I come crashing back to earth. They won’t be children to him. They’ll be pawns in his never-ending quest for power, and I’d be brutally discarded the moment I disagreed with him about what he wanted for our children. Loveless marriages. Lives of crime, like his.
I gaze at the diagram of photosynthesis and the accompanying text. Suddenly it seems much more interesting than my future, and thirty minutes later I’ve written half of my science report.
I’m finishing off the concluding paragraph when I hear Dad calling me from downstairs. “Chiara. Can you come here, please?”
A glance at my phone, which tells me it’s dinner time. I’ve been eating in the kitchen with Francesca ever since Mom was killed. I suppose it was only a matter of time before Dad would want to resume proper meals. Everything in this house has to be proper, and so I pull on a knit dress and some sandals before heading downstairs, my stomach in a snarl.
My anxiety doubles as I see who’s standing next to Dad.
Salvatore. Again. I thought that after the kiss that spoiled everything for me at school, he would stay out of my life.
He smiles at me, a cold smile with his lips pressed together.
“Chiara,” he murmurs in deep, rich notes. I look away as his gaze travels down my body, and I wish I hadn’t worn something so clingy.
I follow them both into the dining room and Salvatore is there to push my chair in, his fingers grazing my bare arm. I’ve got no appetite as Stephan sets consommé before us all and Dad and Salvatore speak about business.
I let my spoon trail through the clear broth, eyes down, hoping that they’ve both forgotten that I’m there.
“And how are you, Chiara?”
I look up, and see that Salvatore has finished his soup and is gazing at me with a smirk. Dad goes on eating, his interest in the new turn the conversation has taken is non-existent.
