Page 19 of Satin Empire

He runs off and I watch him go, feeling like my body’s sinking into the mattress. I thought I could find a way out of this, but Orsino must’ve pulled this rotten little surprise on purpose. He rushed it, and now I’m out of time, which means Niccolo and Mom are out of time too. I don’t know what’s going to happen to them without me around to help take care of everything, and I’m terrified to find out.

* * *

Mom sits next to me on the car ride over to the Rossi mansion. She tries to hold my hand but I slap it away, very uninterested in any mother-daughter bonding right about now, and if she thinks she’s being comforting, she’d better think again. Sitting near her makes my skin crawl.

“I told you this earlier, but I want to make myself clear,” Orsino says once we park outside of an enormous building. Columns ring the exterior, and it looks like there should be a multi-billion-dollar art gallery inside, not the home to a notorious gangster family. I thought we had money, but these people are wealthy. They’re like yacht-rich.

“Don’t embarrass you,” I mutter, finishing his sentence for him. “I understand.”

He cranes his neck around to glare at me. “Don’t be fresh.”

“You don’t have to worry. I’m sure everyone’s worried about how you’re feeling right now.” I glare right back at him, suddenly not afraid.

But his expression barely changes as he looks at my mother. “You should talk to your daughter,” he says and looks straight ahead.

Mom looks like she wants to panic and run into the trees. “Chin up, okay? Shoulders back. You’ll be fine. It’s a really small ceremony.”

“And it better be fast,” Orsino grumbles as he shoves open the door. Antonio gets out with them and the pair linger at the front of the SUV, waiting for me and Mom.

“Don’t make me do this,” I whisper to her, suddenly overcome with blind terror. I’m at a stranger’s house, with a stranger’s family, about to marry a man I barely know. It’s horrifying.

“I don’t have any control, you know that.”

“You can say something to him or maybe talk to Don Renzo. There’s got to be a way. Mom, I don’t want to do this.”

And in that moment, I can see all the fear and sadness she’s been hiding from me. Her mask crumples, and she puts her hands on mine and squeezes them hard, but she has nothing to say, because there’s nothing she can do. She’s as trapped by circumstances as I am, maybe even more so; at least I’m young enough that I could start over. Mom feels as though Orsino’s her last bet at anything stable, and the visceral terror of living in poverty again keeps her from ever trying to slip through the bars of her cage.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but I’m already pulling away. I open the door and climb out, wiping my eyes. I won’t let Orsino see me cry. I won’t give him a reason to punish my mother for my poor performance. If I’m doing this, then I’m going to get it over with, and maybe I’ll find a way to survive on the other side.

I’m tempted to text Carlo. It’s a stupid thought, since I’m heading inside to see him right now, but I want to talk to him more. I wish I understood how he felt about today, why he wasn’t told about our little ceremony, and what he plans on doing with me once it’s over. But there’s no time, and Orsino’s ushering me up toward the front door, practically shoving me up the steps and kicking me in across the threshold.

A woman brings us inside, and I realize it’s Maddie Rossi, Don Renzo’s wife. A little boy’s running around her ankles with curly dark hair. He’s a bruiser of a kid, and his smile is infectious.

“Sorry about Brando,” Maddie says, trying to keep the kid from headbutting Antonio’s knees. “He’s a handful.”

“Cute kid,” Orsino says, looking around. “Where’s the meeting being held?”

“In Renzo’s office. Right this way.” She whispers something to Brando and he runs on ahead, careening around a corner and nearly bashing into a wall.

Maddie glances at me and throws a smile my way. I can’t read it—she seems either sympathetic or annoyed, and maybe a bit of both. She’s in a simple navy dress, the kind of thing that would look normal at a political function. Dressy, but not overdone, and I feel like I look plain in comparison, in a light gray shift dress. It’s the closest thing I have to white and felt appropriate.

The office is down a long hall. Maddie knocks and lets us inside. Bookshelves line the space packed with old leather-bound tomes. There’s a fireplace, a bar cart, a couch and tables and chairs, and an enormous desk at the far end. Don Renzo’s sitting behind it, while Carlo’s on the couch with his feet on an ottoman and a drink in his hands. His brothers Saul and Gian are lurking on the other side of the room with another woman I’m pretty sure is Saul’s wife, Molly. Conversation disappears when we walk into the room, and everyone’s staring at me.

Especially Carlo. He doesn’t move, barely even blinks, his gaze locked on mine like he’s trying to communicate telepathically. I’m uncomfortable under his stare for a few seconds, but then it annoys me, and I look right back. This is my freaking wedding, and I’m not going to act like these people intimidate me, even if I’m trembling and scared out of my mind. I keep thinking about Niccolo in my bed this morning, looking sad and bewildered at the thought of me getting married. I have to stay strong, keep my head up, and maybe I’ll get to see him again soon.

Orsino and Don Renzo shake hands and exchange pleasantries. Another woman enters the room, goes over to Gian, and lightly kisses his cheek. That’s Allegra Rinaldo, another mafia girl I know through reputation. She’s so beautiful—all the women in this family are gorgeous—and I feel like a little child in comparison to everyone else. They’re chic, older, in their mid and late twenties, while I’m still barely able to legally drink.

I’m reminded again of Carlo’s sneer back at the strip club, of the way he called me immature, and pointed out the difference in our age. Fifteen years is a lot. The guy’s an entirely different generation, and I’m supposed to be his wife.

“We’re skipping the priest stuff,” Carlo says, climbing up from the couch. He walks over to Don Renzo’s desk and gestures for me to follow him. Renzo’s standing behind it with Orsino to one side.

Mom gives me a little nudge and a nod. Her expression is serious, like she wants me to stay strong. I nod back, even if I’m pissed at her, because I can use all the encouragement in the world right now.

I approach the desk. Carlo rolls his eyes, walks over, grabs my hand, and drags me along. Someone laughs; I think it’s Allegra. My cheeks burn red, embarrassed by Carlo’s impatience.

Orsino makes room for me. A document waits for us and two pens are already laid out. I skim the papers and realize it’s the official wedding license, notarized and prepared in advance, initialed by someone in the county clerk’s office.

“Alright then,” Don Renzo says. “We’re here to witness their marriage. Carlo requested that we keep things short and simple, and I agreed with him. Any objections?”

---