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It isn’t a long drive to the church, only a few blocks away from where my home is. I look out the window, taking in the high steeples and stained glass of the building. It's a beautiful place to get married. Well, maybe not for me, but definitely for someone else.
I get dragged out of the limo and into the vestibule beside the church, away from the main entrance so no one can see me before I walk down the aisle. I pace around the small room they put me in, wanting to get this over and done with already.
In my hand, my phone vibrates. I hold it up to look at the screen, a text from Etta scrolling across.
ETTA: Say the word, I can have a cab waiting out back in a minute. We can make a run for it.
I smile sadly down at my phone. I wanted to accept, but where would we go? My father has eyes throughout this entire city, and I doubted we’d get very far to make it out of the state.
The door behind me swings open, making my stomach lurch. Thankfully it’s just my brother.
I put my hand to my chest. “You scared me.”
He gives me a soft smile. “Sorry. You doing okay in here?”
His short hair is gelled back against his head, making him look a lot more put together than usual. His brown eyes run over me, a small frown tugging at his lips.
“No.”
He walks over to me slowly. He’s only a little bit taller than I am. We definitely got our father’s genes on that account, our height is the one thing that sets us apart from our mother.
“Talk to me,” he says.
“Enzo, I’m terrified of what I’m walking into, of what I’ll become.” I can feel myself getting tearful. “How can my own father do this to me? All I’ve ever done is work hard for him. Hoping that he will take my efforts seriously and let me work with you in the business. Why the hell am I being punished?”
I feel a set of arms wrap around me as I begin to shake uncontrollably. I wasn’t ready to give up my entire life to live under the thumb of another man. I’ve been doing that since I wasborn.
My father’s expectations have been impossible to meet, but still I tried. I never questioned him, even when his decisions had almost led us to ruin, more than once. All I ever wanted was for him to let me stand next to him and work for our family. For him to be proud.
For him to treat me like he treats Enzo.
It was all in vain, though. All he sees is a daughter, a trading piece.
“Nella,” Enzo says. “You have to remember that people will take as much as you give them. And you’ve given him way too much. You need to accept our father as he is and stop distorting your view of him, wishing he was someone else.”
He gives me one last squeeze before we part. I wipe the tears from my jaw, hating how true his words are. We both look over at the door when there is a loud knock.
Enzo kisses my cheek, heading over to it and opening it to allow our father to come in. Enzo steps around him and heads out of the room without another glance back at me. I try to not be hurt, knowing that he’s only acting that way because my father is around.
Marco Ambrosino hates any kind of affection. To him, emotion is weakness.
As my father comes in, I stare at him long and hard. His gray hair is gelled back much like my brothers. His suit is, of course, the finest Italian cut on the market, with shoes that look like they have been freshly polished.
I suck in a breath when he strides over to me. He is so tall he towers over me, and the disappointed stare he sends my way isn’t lost on me.
He’s really going to do this to me. And I just have to accept it.
It’s all bullshit. It hurts. It isn’t fair.
God, please. Anything. I need anything to save me, to interrupt this wedding.
My father doesn’t say anything before taking my arm and leading me out the door.
* * *
My heart pounds when I hear the organ start to play.
I try hard not to crush his arm while my own is wrapped around it. I can feel myself start to come apart again, my nerves from earlier only having been quieted by my brief talk with Enzo.
