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“Why me?” Antonio asks. “I’m not the one who’s in charge of the Moretti business at the moment.”
“I know. But you’re a man I can help shape.”
Antonio sits back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Ah. I gotcha. So, you’re looking to control everything, is that it? Turn me into your little puppet, and you control all the strings.”
For a moment, my father looks angry, but it passes so fast, I’m not sure Antonio even notices. But I do because I’ve seen that look on his face before.
“Not at all,” Father finally says. “You would be in control. But I would expect certain privileges, yes. Like a seat at your table. I’d have a word in your ear, and you would listen to me. You ultimately don’t have to take any advice or suggestions I give, but just having more power would make me happy. As I know it would make you happy.”
“So, why the marriage alliance?” Antonio asks, flashing me a quick glance. Though his eyes linger on me for a second too long. I’m not necessarily complaining.
“Because,” Father says, cutting into his duck and taking a bite, “it would ensure trust. I wouldn’t marry my eldest daughter to just anyone. Only someone with potential of greatness is worthy of her.” He points his fork at Antonio—a little bit of duck is still stuck to the utensil. I take a sip of my ratatouille, ignoring my father. “And you, Antonio Moretti, are someone who has greatness in you. This alliance would benefit all three of us. What do you say?”
“I say …” Antonio scrunches up his face. I’m waiting for his answer when he turns to me. “I want to hear what Nina has to say about all this.” I startle at his words. So does my father.
“What does my daughter’s opinion matter?”
Antonio shrugs. “Because, if we’re to be married, I’d like to know what the other half of that equation has to say about this.” He turns to me. “So, Nina, what are your thoughts?”
I can feel my father’s eyes boring into the side of my face. I want to tell Antonio I don’t exactly want this, that I’d rather take my sister and get out. But I know that’s not my reality, and no matter how much Antonio may respect my opinion, he’s not the one who gets to make decisions for me.
My father does.
And he wants me to marry Antonio.
So, there’s only one answer I can give. “Are you a kind man?” I ask.
Antonio looks surprised for a moment before nodding. “I don’t hurt women, if that’s what you’re asking. I have no desire.”
I inhale shakily. “Then … if my father thinks it’s a good idea for us to marry … then that’s what I think we should do.”
Father nods, pleased with me, and I let out that breath I’d been holding in.
Antonio looks between my father and me for a moment with a question in his eyes before he nods as well. “Ok, then. If we’re all in agreement, I think this marriage could be a good thing. I’m ready to take back my family business.”
Father raises his glass to Antonio. “And I’m ready to help you.”
The clink of their glasses sends a chill down my spine.
* * *
Father doesn’t letAntonio and I talk much over dinner, and soon, we’re saying goodbye, and I’m walking away from the man who’s going to become my husband.
“You did good in there,” Father says to me on the car ride home. “Make me proud, Nina.” That’s the same thing my mother said to me earlier, and yet, I feel like both my parents are talking about different things.
When we arrive back at our home, a man is waiting outside our front door. He has strikingly dark hair and handsome good looks, even though he’s closer to my father’s age than mine. There’s something familiar about his face, but I can’t quite place it.
Father approaches the man with ease. “Franco. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure things are going according to plan.” He briefly glances at me before turning back to my father. “With—”
Father holds his up his hand. “Yes. It is. Speak no more of it. You have my assurances. Everything is going well so far.”
Franco huffs. “So far. Keep it that way, Petrov. I don’t want this plan of yours messing up.”
“Not at all. Now, if you would excuse me. I’m tired and ready to go to bed.” He brushes past Franco and unlocks the door, motioning me inside the house.
“I’m trusting you, Petrov,” Franco growls. His entire demeanor is off-putting.
