Page 72 of A Vow So Soulless

“I know that she’ll wait!” Valentina says. “She’s closing the shop to the public and hosting us privately. But some of us prefer to actually build relationships and rely on social fucking civility instead of just throwing the weight of the family name around to make people respect us.”

Curse doesn’t say anything else, and Valentina rolls her eyes then leans back against the seat and looks at me.

“Donata’s amazing. But I don’t like wasting the time of a competent businesswoman if I can help it, let alone someone with the kind of artistic genius she’s got.”

“Valentina…” I say hesitantly. I start fiddling with the solitaire ring, my ring, twirling it nervously. “I don’t want to do this. If you don’t want to waste her time then we shouldn’t even keep this appointment at all.”

“Why not?” she asks. “Do you have another designer or dress you already had in mind or something? Trust me, Donata is the fucking best.”

We’re out of the dense, dark quiet of Elio’s palatial property now. Street lights bob past us, sending stripes of light over Valentina’s heart-shaped face. Her expression is smooth, almost innocent, like she truly has no idea why I would really want to skip this appointment.

“I don’t… I don’t plan on actually marrying Elio.”

There’s no discernable reaction from the front of the vehicle, but when my gaze shoots furtively to Curse, I see his eyes on mine in the rear-view mirror. Feeling oddly embarrassed, I look back at Valentina. But I don’t get much relief there, either, because she’s looking at me like I just told her I like to drown kittens in my spare time.

“Hon,” she says, her big eyes nearly bugging out of her head, “What are you even talking about?”

All my embarrassment fades, replaced with irritation. Why the hell should I have to justify myself in this?

“I don’t want to marry him!” I hiss in the hushed interior of the vehicle. “He never even asked me!”

“If he never asked you, then where did that beautiful ring on your finger come from?”

Valentina’s question freezes me. My gaze lurches down to the ring I’m swivelling around on my finger. I could have taken it off by now. Put it in my pocket or even thrown it out the damn car window.

But I didn’t.

“Did you help him pick it out?” I ask. I force myself to stop touching the ring and curl my fingers together in my lap.

Valentina shakes her head, her long blonde curls rustling against the fur-trimmed hood of her white parka.

“No,” she admits. “God, I would have loved to, though. I absolutely love this stuff. I didn’t get to pick my ring and it would have been so fun to have helped pick yours. Although…” She leans towards me, straining her seatbelt, capturing my left hand and squinting at the ring. “The stone’s not as big as one I probably would have chosen for you. I’m actually a bit surprised he didn’t pick something bigger.”

I feel suddenly protective of the ring, with what I already consider a pretty big diamond. I pull my hand from hers and frown down at it.

“I wouldn’t want anything bigger than this,” I tell her. “Something big or heavy would throw off my violin-playing, now that I think about it.”

“You know what?” Valentina says, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I bet you Elio took that into consideration.”

“Ah, yes. So considerate picking a ring I’d like for a wedding I don’t even want.”

Valentina’s smile goes a little bit hard. Brittle. Like her expression could splinter any second.

“Yeah, well, not all of us get the weddings that we want,” she says. Her voice is very calm, very even, but there’s a throb of emotion beneath the words. “And, look, I get how fucking shit it is not to choose your own path. But you could do a lot worse, a hell of a lot fucking worse, than my cousin.”

I purse my lips, remaining quiet for a moment. Valentina has always seemed like an ally, someone in a similar situation to me. Stuck in an engagement she didn’t choose. It’s easy to forget that Elio is her family. That’s where her ultimate loyalty lies.

“I won’t make excuses for all his crazy,” Valentina continues. “And I know he hasn’t exactly been a knight in shining armour for you. At least not in the beginning. The whole taking you for your debt thing…”

I make a humourless snorting sound, and she sighs in response.

“Yeah. It’s fucking ugly,” she goes on. “It is. I know it is. But…” She turns her head and looks out the window, leaving me to study her profile in the alternating light and dark of winter city driving. “But nice things can grow out of ugliness. Maybe not perfect things. But nice things. Maybe even beautiful ones. Strength can come from scars.”

She’s quiet for a long moment while I ruminate on her words. Then, without warning, she turns back to me.

“I care about that idiot,” she says. “He’s the big brother I never had. And I like you, Deirdre. I really do. I sympathize with everything you’re going through. But I won’t stand for anybody breaking Elio’s heart.”

“Breaking his heart?” I echo, completely rattled by her assertion. As if such a thing were even possible. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

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