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“Now,” my mother said, sliding her fingers over the nape of my neck affectionately, “After dinner, the blessing ceremony will take place.”
My blood froze at the mention of the archaic torture ceremony that my family had been doing on the eve of weddings for centuries. Violent waves of nausea bubbled in my gut, and I prayed for the tonic to work quickly so I could handle the conversation without letting my anger or fear escape. I could almost feel the panic coursing through my veins at her words.
I didn’t reply, my acknowledgment wasn’t needed. It was happening without my agreement either way.
“Remember what we discussed,” she said lightly, but I could feel the threat behind her words. She was keeping her mask in place because of the other people in the room, but I could read between the lines. “You will be on your best behavior, both for dinner and the ceremony, and then tomorrow you will be wed,” she sang, “And you will be the most envied woman in the world.”
I didn’t want to be envied by anyone in the world.
I just wanted to be safe and happy.
But my hopes and dreams didn’t matter.
“Are you listening to me, Ari?” She snapped her fingers in front of my face. Her and my father’s favorite form ofpay the fuck attention, Ari.
Which I would be far better at if I wasn’t so dead inside thanks to their drugs.
“Yes, Mama,” I replied, “I’ll be the image of obedience.” I even managed a smile at her as she patted my cheek.
“Good girl,” she smiled back, pleased with my response. “I’m going to get dressed, so get in your gown and take your hair out and then I’ll meet you in the hallway in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Mama.”
She left and the silent women working on me took my hair down and spritzed it with setting spray and then helped me into the gown I was going to meet my future husband in.
It was rose gold and probably one of my favorite gowns that I’d been forced to wear in my lifetime, even though I had no choice in picking it out. It had thin straps and was surprisingly low cut, showing off a large amount of my cleavage above the jeweled bodice that hugged my waist tightly. The skirt was fitted with the same rose beading from the bodice and accentuated my hips before pooling around my legs.
I felt surprisingly mature and attractive in it, compared to the modest gowns I usually wore.
I suppose when one was being dangled in front of a grown man as bait, some tits were necessary.
Even if I didn’t have a clue what to do with them to be seductive.
I spared myself only a short glance in the floor-length mirror before walking out to meet my family where they congregated in the hallway outside of our rooms.
My older brothers, Carmine and Cristian leaned against the wall with their fitted suits and bored expressions on their faces. They were the realheirsto the Rosetti line and the weight of continuing on the name was usually on their shoulders, specifically Carmine’s as the oldest Rosetti sibling. But the joining of the Rosetti and Capasso families was decades in the making, and I think they were happy to not be responsible for something for once.
“Ah, darling,” My mother cheered, “You look fabulous!” She touched my hair again, “Nicolas is one very lucky man.” She nearly squealed with glee as my father walked out of their rooms, adjusting his tie. My sisters joined as well, both dressed in modest long sleeve white gowns adorned with lace. I felt exposed compared to them, but I guess that was the point. Heaven forbid my future husband focus on anyone else but his child bride.
Even if I wasn’t a child anymore, I still felt obscenely lacking compared to the grown man who commanded entire countries worth of men and businesses.
“You look beautiful, dear,” my father added, “A prize fit for a king.” He mused and my stomach rolled at the lascivious look in his eyes as he addressed me. “Speaking of the king,” he paused, “I’ve just met with him, finalizing everything for tomorrow. So, just be a good girl until you’re wed, and then you’re his problem to bear.”
I stayed silent, knowing nothing I could say to that comment would please him. He turned away and tucked my mother in against his side to walk to dinner.
I took a deep breath and Carmine stopped at my side, giving me one of his infamous playboy winks as he held his elbow out for me to take.
He was always my favorite sibling if I had to be honest. With his dark features and charismatic charm, he was also the biggest thorn in my father’s side.
Which was why we got along so well, I suppose.
Or at least we had before myconditioningstarted a few months ago. I’d spent most of my time since then, locked away and silenced. Learning all I would need to know as a wife to a powerful man like Nicolas Capasso.
“Let’s go meet the old goat, shall we?” He whispered as we walked down the steps. He was only twenty-five years old, so my future husband was around a decade older than him even.
“I think I’d rather not,” I whispered back, breaking through the fog.
Sadness crossed his eyes briefly before he looked away. He was as helpless as I was to this whole thing. “I know,” he sighed, “If there was something I could do-”
