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“It’s good that I don’t have one then,” Luca says, smirking.
He just made a joke.My cold, calculating, second-in-command to the head of the Italian Mafia fiancé just made ajoke. At the breakfast table. In broad daylight. As if us meeting each other here were an ordinary thing.
I feel as if I’m getting whiplash.
I manage to hide the expression on my face, opening the refrigerator and finding a yogurt and a pressed juice. The yogurt is in aglass jarof all things, and the juice looks like one of those seven-dollar-a-bottle types you find at a Whole Foods. The kind of thing that Ana always used to bemoan not being able to afford, that the rich ballerinas at Juilliard lived off of. They apparently were always talking about their juice fasts and wheat grass shots and whatever else they used to stay stick thin and permanently hungry.
But I’m getting married in five days, and although a small, petty part of me wants to show up looking my absolute worst, I’m not entirely without vanity. I’m only ever going to get one wedding day, and I’d like to feel beautiful, even if I can’t stand the sight of my groom.
The problem though, isn’t that you can’t stand the sight of him. It’s that youcan, even though he’s a heartless monster and you shouldn’t want him in any possible capacity.
Gritting my teeth, I walk over to the table, plopping down in one of the chairs with the determination to act as normally as possible. If Luca doesn’t want to eat breakfast with me, he can leave.
Luca glances over his paper again, and wrinkles his nose. “Well, I suppose I should be glad that you’re mindful of your figure at least. Designers don’t typically like to dress a girl over a size four.”
“Well, I’m right at their limit then,” I say pleasantly, scooping up a spoonful of blueberry yogurt. “Maybe I should have had some sausage after all.”
He doesn’t take the bait. “The stylist will be here in an hour,” he says, checking his watch. “Apparently dealing with your disastrous hair will take some time, so your appointment to choose your wedding dress has been postponed until late afternoon. But I expect it to all be done by the end of the day, since you have your meeting with Father Donahue tomorrow.” Luca sets his paper down, stabbing one of the sausages with a fork. “Friday night is the rehearsal, and by Saturday night, this entire matter will be settled and over with.” He pops a bite into his mouth, and chews thoughtfully, watching me from across the table. “Carmen will email you the itinerary for the week, with all of your appointments, just in case you forget.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to point out that I don’t have my phone any longer, or any access to a computer, but instead I take that moment to blurt out what’s been on my mind since last night, even though I know I should have come up with a plan for asking him, some way to manipulate Luca into saying yes. But at this point, I’m so drained that I can’t do anything except let the request spill out while Luca looks at me from the other end of the table.
“I want Ana to come with me today, to help me pick my dress,” I say, the words stumbling over each other. “And I want her at the wedding, too.”
Luca looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “I’ve already told you how I feel about your Russian friend,” he says flatly.
“She’s my—”
“Yes. I know. Your only friend. She also has old ties to the Bratva, and—”
“You agreed that I could see her!” The words burst out of my mouth, petulant and angry like the child he accused me of being last night, but I can’t help it. He’s taken so much away from me already, and I’m terrified that he’ll take this last thing, that the only person I have left in the world to love and who loves me will be gone forever.
Luca’s jaw tenses, and I can see that he’s on the verge of snapping again. He sets his fork down, carefully placing his palms on the table. “I agreed to thatafterthe threat was contained—”
“You’re forcing me to get married. You’re forcing me to do this all alone—”
“No one is forcing you to do anything.” Luca looks at me coolly. “You’re welcome to call the wedding off.”
“And then I die.” I bite off every word, my hatred of him from yesterday returning full force.I can’t believe that I started to warm up to him, just because of a ring and him possibly leaving me dinner.I clench my jaw, staring at him with as much anger as I can muster.Fuck him, even if he did bring that dinner up with his own two hands.I’m not a dog, to love my new owner just because he might have fed me.
Luca shrugs. “It’s still a choice.”
“Maybe in your world.”
His face darkens. “Yes. In my world. Which you are now a part of, Sofia, whether you like it or not.”
“Well I don’t like it!” I hear my voice rising, but I can’t stop myself. “My family is dead, Luca. My father is dead. My mother is dead. IknowI’ve said it before, but Anaismy only friend! I know you don’t give a shit about what I want, or how I feel, but can’t you for one second pull your head out of your own ass and realize that I might wantoneperson that I love there to help me choose my fucking wedding dress? To be there when I getmarried?One personto be there for me?”
I’m breathless by the time I finish, and I realize too late that I was yelling, that I just literally cursed and screamed at the man who has the power of life and death over me. I don’t believe for one second that the document I signed yesterday, hell, that even my fucking marriage license will save me if Luca gets tired of dealing with me. This man, and everyone like him and around him, is above the law.
If he saves me, it’s because he’s choosing to. Which begs the question all over again—why?
I expect him to lose control again, to yell back, to threaten me. But instead he takes a deep breath, the muscles in his jaw working as he looks at me with that same hard expression on his face.
“I’ll allow your friend to come and help you choose your dress today,” he says finally. “And she can attend the wedding.”
My mouth drops open. Even with the clear anger in his expression, this isn’t what I’d expected.
“But.” Luca raises a hand, indicating that I shouldn’t speak until he’s finished. It doesn’t matter—I couldn’t have anyway. I’m too shocked. “Caterina will come with you today as well, so that it’s not only you and Anastasia. And Anastasia may not come to the reception. There’s too many people there who might take offense to it, and I think she would be—uncomfortable.”
