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Her words are meant to soothe me, but as I look over at Caterina, I can tell from her face that not a single word of it is true.
Luca can force me to do a great many things. I might not want to have to learn to play this game, but I’m quickly learning that I have no other choice.
* * *
Two more awkwardhours pass before my hair is finished being dyed, highlighted, curled and styled. But I have to admit, when I turn and look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror after Brigit has cleaned everything up, that it suits me a million times better than the blonde ever did. She dyed my base color as close to my natural roots as she could, a deep chocolate brown that looks even richer than my actual color. It’s highlighted with soft, thin pieces balayaged throughout in shades of honey and caramel, so subtle that they’re only noticeable when the light catches them. Curled, my hair brushes just below my shoulders, and it looks healthier than it has in a long time, accentuating my cheekbones and making my skin glow even without makeup.
I hate to admit that it looks so much better, that I actually think I look pretty—but I do.
The doorbell rings, startling me, and Catarina gracefully stands up from her spot on the edge of the tub. “That’s probably the driver, letting us know he’s here.” She gives me a quick, hesitant smile. “I’ll let him know that we’ll be down in a few minutes.”
She strides out, leaving me alone with Ana, and my stomach tightens with nerves. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper, turning towards her. “How am I supposed to pick out a dress for a wedding that I don’t even want?”
“I know,” Ana says, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “But I’ll be with you the whole way. And Caterina too, I suppose.” She rolls her eyes, and I stifle a laugh.
“I think she means well.” I frown, looking out in the direction that she left. “I don’t know. I don’t think I should trust her, right? She’s one of them.”
Ana shrugs. “I would say that you shouldn’t trust anyone. None of them have your best interests at heart, Sofia. Certainly not Luca—and I wouldn’t think that the Don’s daughter does, either. This isn’t your world, regardless of what your father used to do. Be careful.” Her fingers lace through mine, and I’m more grateful than I ever have been for anything that she’s here with me today. “I’ll be here for you as long as I can. Longer than that, if I can find a way to manage it.”
My stomach flips over again at that. Luca could stop me from seeing her at any time, isolate me away from the one person I have left. The thought of how lonely that would be makes me feel sick.
“Come on,” Ana says gently. “This is hard, but it’s not the worst, I promise. I know this isn’t how you pictured picking out your wedding dress, but we’ll try to make it as fun as we can.”
“That’s the thing,” I tell her as we walk out. “I never really pictured it. I never imagined getting married. And yet—here I am.”
Leaving the apartment is strange. Just two nights ago I was trying to flee, and here I am, walking out of the front door and to the elevator as if I’m free to do what I like.
Of course—I’m not. The driver is waiting with Caterina at the elevator, and he punches in the code to go down, yet another reminder that I couldn’t leave on my own if I wanted to. Caterina casts me a sympathetic glance as we walk in, but I don’t quite meet her eyes.
There’s a sleek black car waiting for us in the garage, and the driver opens the door, letting me slide in first. Ana slips in next to me, and Caterina opts to sit across from us. The car is barely moving when she slides open a panel, revealing—to my complete and utter surprise—a bottle of champagne and glasses.
“How did you know that would be there?” I blurt out, staring at her. The minute the words are out of my mouth I wish I could take them back—the last thing I want is to look foolish or stupid in front of this elegantly dressed, perfectly polished woman.
I expect her to say something cutting or mocking, the way Luca probably would, but instead she just smiles. “Just one of the perks,” Caterina says, laughing softly as she pops the cork and starts to pour a glass for each of us. “There’s always some kind of alcohol in these cars. And mixers too—do you want some orange juice in yours?”
For a second, all I can do is keep staring, dumbfounded by all of it. “Sure,” I manage, trying to regain my composure.This is ridiculous. All of it. How am I asking for a mimosa in a car on the way to a bridal salon I could never, in my entire life, afford to shop at before?
Except I could have afforded it. No matter how much I want to try to forget about the money that’s appeared in my account every month for the last three years, I can’t. No matter how much I want to pretend that I’ve been just another struggling student, that I would have made my own way in the world after graduation, it’s a lie. I’ve never had to struggle, and I never would have, even if the Bratva hadn’t come for me. My father made sure that I was provided for, and Luca followed through on that promise—has continued to, to the very letter of it. As much as I want to cast him as the villain, and say that I’m not a part of any of this—I am.
I have been since I was born. I’ve just been living with one foot in and one foot out without even realizing it. But when it comes to money and privilege, no matter how much I want to deny it, I have more in common with Caterina than I do my best friend. I’ve just been running from it this entire time.
The champagne is dry and sweet on my tongue, but I can’t shake the bitter taste that my thoughts leave behind. “I don’t want to be a part of this family,” I whisper desperately to Ana, low enough that Caterina can’t hear. “I wanted to escape. That’s all I ever wanted. And that’s what my father wanted for me too, I know it is.”
“You’re not like them,” Ana replies, equally hushed. “You never will be. Don’t worry about it, Sof. You won’t lose yourself.”
The sound of the childish, familiar nickname and the way she cut immediately to the core of my fears soothes me, just a little. I’m terrified that if I allow myself to enjoy even a little bit of what’s being handed to me in preparation for this wedding, whether it’s the new clothes or a luxurious bath or my newly styled hair, it’s giving in. Saying that I want this. That if I let myself drink the Kool-Aid, even just a little, I’ll lose everything that makes meme, and become just another pawn in this awful world of mobs and mafia.
The car slows to a stop, and outside of the tinted window I can see the sign for Kleinfeld’s. “We’re here,” Caterina says, and once again I see the sympathy in her eyes. I don’t want her pity—but the logical part of me, the part that knows I can’t fight this forever, says that I’m better off with her as my friend than my enemy.
The door opens, and I take a deep breath.You can do this,I tell myself.
I step out of the car, and into the sunlight.
Luca
Ihave my own appointment with Father Donahue this afternoon, and I’m dreading it. I already know that he’s going to chastise me for the way I’m handling the situation—and he’s probably the only man in all of New York, hell, the only one in the fuckingworldwho could get away with chastising any one of us.
But more than that, I know my feelings for Sofia are far from pure. So far, in fact, that I’ll be surprised if I don’t catch on fire the minute I walk into the church.
