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He gave me a shrug before climbing inside and taking a seat on the other end. “He has a plan for everything. He takes your pain and uses it to make you stronger.”
I’m sure the man meant well, but his words sounded just like my father’s and they made my stomach churn with anger and frustration. I fled from the church with no more answers than I’d walked through the door with.
I never went to college like I thought I would. I ran away from home instead. I could have applied for loans or gone to the battered woman’s shelter, but I slept on park benches and tried to fend for myself.
I always dreamt of something better. I always said that one day my time would come. I just didn’t think it would come with so many strings.
Raniero could have been a game-changer if the circumstances were different. If he loved me… if we’d dated… if he treated me with respect… all the if’s. If he wasn’t himself, all of this might be okay.
But everyone knows about the Valenti family. We’ve all heard the rumors about Mateo Valenti going to prison for murder. We’ve joked about Luca holding a place on the City Council. We’ve made fun of Stefano and Cesare for following in the family’s footsteps. Everybody knows that the Valentis came by their fortune through illegal means. We all just sort of thought they were a joke. Dangerous, but a joke.
I never expected to be kidnapped by Raniero. I didn’t even think about what I’d do if he kept me locked up in his home. How was I supposed to prepare for his charm, sex appeal, and twisted lust? Nobody ever tells you what to do when you find yourself backed into a corner with a feral dog that just wants to make you feel good. There isn’t a guidebook on how to control yourself when your hormones are demanding that you get off just one more time.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My life was supposed to be a fairytale, not a horror movie.
15
RANIERO
“Ifigure if we have the wedding before the end of your first trimester, you won’t be showing. You’ll still look slim and beautiful in the photos and people won’t think it’s a shotgun wedding.” Except for Grant Jackson, who will personally be getting an invitation from me that saysnow that I’ve knocked your daughter up, I guess I better marry her. Calliope doesn’t need to worry about that though. “That leaves us about seven weeks, but I’m thinking if we get married in four, people can even speculate that we got pregnant on our wedding night.”
Calliope stares at the coffee mug in front of her and shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah, sure,” she mumbles, the words slurring together as if she’s drunk.
I turn my back to her and tighten my jaw in frustration. It’s been a week since we learned of her pregnancy and she’s been moping ever since. I catch her lying on the floor of her bedroom or sitting outside in the garden, always with the same dull, far-off expression on her face. I know that this was never what she predicted for her life, but she can’t be this upset over how it turned out.
I’ve tried keeping my mouth shut, but I’m growing weary of the depression she’s settled into. It’s like being pregnant turned off all the lights in her house and she’s been shuttered away in the darkness. “My cousin would like to come by this weekend and take you dress shopping. How does that sound?”
She doesn’t look up from her mug. “Sounds good.”
I close my eyes and count to ten as I try to keep my anger under control. I know that this isn’t ideal. Iknowthat I fucked up by not earning her trust first. But what can I do to say that I’m sorry? How can I make her see that it won’t always be like this? “Is something wrong, Calliope?” I turn around slowly and push my back into the countertop, relishing the pain as it distracts me from my fury.
Calliope’s head shakes a couple of times and then she reaches up to wipe her face. As she gets up from her seat, she avoids looking at me. “I have to use the bathroom,” she mumbles as she skirts out of the kitchen. But she doesn’t head down the hall, she just runs upstairs.
Thank God she’s gone because I throw the first thing I can grab at the wall. A plate shatters in a spectacular display of ceramic fireworks. “What the fuck is her problem?” I growl.
Grace had the good sense to disappear when we came into the kitchen a little bit ago, but she returns when she hears the plate shatter. “Oh, dear,” she frowns as she grabs a broom, “is something wrong, Mr. Valenti?”
I don’t confide in Grace because she has a job and she does it well. She’s in charge of the kitchen, whether it be cooking meals, stocking, or cleaning up. She isn’t my personal therapist and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like one. I snap my teeth together to keep from spilling all my frustrations on her.
She hums to herself as she sweeps up my mess. As Grace waits for a response, I see her casually flicking her gaze in my direction. But when I am not forthcoming, she takes it upon herself to give me some advice. “You treat me like family, Mr. Valenti, and I appreciate that. I know that I will never have to worry again as long as you’re around. But not everybody knows that.”
Grace doesn’t say much, but she says what’s important. I stand there and watch as she finishes cleaning up the ceramic mess. With each breath, I calm myself down. I need to talk to Calliope like she’s an equal. I’ve viewed her as my prisoner since the day I kidnapped her and that’s probably how she’s viewing herself. She needs to know that she means more to me than that.
Before leaving the kitchen, I walk over to Grace and give her a hug. “Thanks,” I whisper in her ear, “I appreciate having you in my family.”
It feels like a long climb up the stairs to the second floor. Each step weighs on my soul like an anvil. I’m not sure how to change the dynamic that I’ve created between Calliope and me, but I know that it has to change if we’re ever going to get past this.
I dread standing in front of her door. There’s a sense of impending doom throbbing in my chest. It takes everything in me to knock on the door instead of opening it and letting myself in.
As per usual, I find her lying on the floor with her eyes trained on the ceiling. “Calliope,” I call her name like it’s a question but she doesn’t turn to look at me. “I think we should talk.”
She sighs but otherwise doesn’t move. “If it’s about the wedding, we can do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
That one hurts and I don’t know why. I awkwardly walk over and take a seat on the floor beside her. I don’t know when I last sat criss-cross apple sauce, but it’s the first thing that I think of when I make myself comfortable. “I need you to talk to me, Calliope. I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I know this situation isn’t ideal, but it’s what we have and I want to make you feel better.”
Calliope turns her head to the side to look at me. Her eyes look dead. “This situation isn’tideal?” She repeats my words back to me. “You think I wanted to be kidnapped, held hostage, knocked up, and married to a man I barely know?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I try to backpedal but she doesn’t let me.
