Page 41 of Forced Arrangement

“Sarah!” Justine’s voice is a sing-song chant as she enters the room, her usual grin firmly in place. Of course, she hadn’t switched to calling me Sophia yet. To her, I was still the girl she’d grown up with, not some mafia princess.

She frowns when she sees me curled up on the bathroom floor. “Oh, love,” she says, rushing to my side. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling sick on and off for a few days now.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Justine says. “I’ll make you some tea. If I can find the kitchen in this palatial apartment.”

I smile a little. Tea was the British way of solving everything. Bit tired in the morning? Have some tea. Your favorite football team lost a game? Have some tea. You’re sick as a dog and have to take over a mafia family? Have some tea.

“I don’t need tea, but thank you,” I say to her, my voice thin. I idly swing open the cabinet under the sink. “Maybe I’m just about to start my period,” I muse. “Sometimes I feel icky the couple of days before.”

Justine gives me a stern look. “Not like this,” she insists. “Let me make you some tea. You’ll feel better as soon as you’ve had a few sips.”

“Are there tampons in any of those cabinets?” I ask her, ignoring her advice.

She rolls her eyes and starts rummaging through the fancy bathroom.

“Nope,” she says with a little shake of her head. “Angelo seems to think of everything. Maybe he forgot you were a real, human woman.”

I gave her a tight smile. “Trust me, this isn’t exactly how either of us pictured things.”

“Oh, come on,” she teased, resting her chin on her hands. “Living in a mansion with a big, brooding man who is obsessed with you? It’s pretty terrible, you’re right.”

I giggle with her, despite how terrible I feel.

“And, dear God, have you seen Franco? What’s in the water here? It’s ridiculous.”

Her eyes sparkle, but I can see the questions bubbling just beneath the surface.

“It’s not exactly a fairy tale, Jus,” I say “None of this is. This engagement…it’s not what it looks like.”

She tilts her head, her smile faltering for the first time since she’d arrived. “What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath, staring at the ring for a second before slipping it off my finger and dropping it onto the floor between us. The metal clinks softly against the wood and Justine’s eyes widen in surprise. “It’s fake,” I say, shrugging. “All of it. The engagement, the relationship—everything.”

“What?” she straightens up, her brows pulling together in confusion. “But why? Angelo…he seems…”

I shake my head. “It’s complicated. Angelo’s using the engagement to solidify my place in the family, to make sure no one questions my leadership. But it’s all just part of the plan. Nothing is real.”

Justine is quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on the ring. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Doesn’t matter if I am or not,” I reply, my voice harder than I intend it to be. “It’s what I have to do. If this is what keeps me alive—keeps us alive—then I don’t have a choice.”

There’s a long pause before Justine sighs. “I get it,” she says softly, her teasing gone. “But still, it’s shit, isn’t it? Living a lie.”

I nod, my throat tightening. “It is.”

Suddenly, I know I’m going to be sick again and I lunge toward the toilet, barely managing to throw up without making a huge mess.

I hear the sink running, and then Justine is pressing a cool hand towel to my forehead. She tsks softly as she helps me lean back against the wall again.

“Babe,” she says to me gently, “what if you don’t need tampons?”

I crack one eye open and look up at her in confusion. “What?” I manage to croak.

She’s giving me a sad, motherly look and I feel alarm tighten my insides.

“How long have you been here in New York?”

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