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“What about the rest of your family? Is your mom…still around? Have you got any siblings?”
“I have a brother, but he’s older. He came here, too, and, like most of the guys, did really well. He’s twenty-seven now and is pretty much running Dad’s business for him.”
“Will you be involved in the business, too?”
This time she barks laughter. “Ha! Not if my dad and brother have anything to say about it. They’d prefer to use me as a bargaining chip, to marry me off to one of their contacts as an alliance, and to produce some heirs like a good little girl.”
My jaw drops. “You’re not serious? Like an arranged marriage?”
“Yeah. My mom’s marriage to my dad was the same. It’s pretty much expected. They’ve been married almost thirty years now, and they’re happy. Well, when my dad is behaving himself.”
I understand that her background is different than mine, and that I don’t know enough about it to know if that is the norm, or something to do with her particular family. I don’t want to say anything that disrespects either it or her. I can’t imagine marrying someone who my parents have picked out for me, though. I’m not sure I can imagine marrying anyone right now.
“When is this likely to happen?” I ask, taking a sip of my Coke.
“After I graduate.”
So soon? I swallow the drink down hard, in surprise. “Will you get to meet the guy first?”
“Oh, sure. We don’t live in the dark ages. I mean, I probably already know him, or at least know of him. The families are all interconnected in one way or another.”
“Oh, right. I see,” I say, even though I don’t.
“Anyway,” Camile changes the subject, “I hear someone’s birthday is coming up? Does that mean we get to party?”
I groan. “I really don’t want to party.” I think of how it turned out for me last time.
“What? Your birthday is on the weekend. We definitely have to party.”
I also have a fitting this weekend for the dress I’m supposed to wear to the wedding. I have to make sure I’m in good form—emotionally and physically—for my mom. She’s going to need my support.
“Maybe one drink,” I say, “but no more.”
She pokes her tongue out at me. “Spoilsport.”
Chapter 23
Domenic
Today, my father is insisting on a fitting for the wedding suits, and I’m in an even worse mood than normal about it.
In Dad’s typical style, he’s brought the stylists to us rather than us needing to go anywhere. He’ll never put himself out if it means putting someone else out first. Apparently, the same thing applies to his own son. The last thing I want to do on my weekend is play happy families with Mackenzie and her mom.
The thought of Mackenzie causes a fresh roil of anger to churn inside me.
She’s always so fucking high and mighty. She thinks she’s better than us, though I have no idea why. She’s gold-digging trash, as far as I can see. I want to bring them both down, but I’m also conscious that doing so will put me on my dad’s bad side, and I’m not sure how willing I am yet to completely throw myself out of his favor by destroying the people he’s claimed as his.
My dad’s apartment within the main building has a large sitting room, which we’re in now, and a separate dining room, where we ate on the first night Mackenzie and her mom arrived. A set of double doors divide the two spaces, so I can’t see Mack and her mother, who are using the dining room as a dressing area.
The tailor has an assistant with him—a young woman, probably around my age, if not a little older.
She drops to her knees in front of me, a tape-measure in hand. “Your inner leg is going to need some adjusting,” she says, wrapping the tape measure around my inner thigh.
“Get any closer and you’ll practically have your hand wrapped around my cock,” I tell her.
She blushes right up to the roots. “Sorry, I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s okay. I’m just fucking with you.” I pause. “Unless you want me to actually fuck you, in which case, my room is two doors down.”
