Page 17 of Gilded Saint

“He saved me. I…Scarlet, please. He’s better than Leandro.”

She sinks onto the mattress.

“You’ll come to visit. Often. He travels frequently.” Her eyes narrow, fully aware I met the man yesterday. “He told me. I promise you’ll come and visit me, and we’ll find a reason for you to stay. I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“You’re so young.” Scarlet’s six years older than I am, but she and Aunt Caterina lived with us after her father died. She’s my cousin, but she’s more like a sister.

“I’m three years older than you were when you got married.”

Moving to London means I can pursue a career. For the first time since returning home from Florence, excitement thrums from possibility.

“But you’re naive.” She won’t drop it.

There’s a truth to her observation that stings. Days ago, I thought Papa wouldn’t force me into marriage. I was naive. He may run one of the legitimate businesses, but he’s a Lupi Grigi member. And to serve his business, he contemplated selling me to the worst of all the men.

Spread out along the table is the lingerie my mother hand-selected, and trunks are open, brimming with my clothes. Mamma has the staff working overtime today, preparing to ship me off, cheerful because Papa told her it was a good liaison. My union took priority over this weekend’s engagement celebration, so much so she and I both missed today’s festivities. But we’d been productive.

“I need air.”

“Where are you going?” Scarlet’s miffed, but the portrait is painted, so to speak, so there’s no point in hearing her negativity.

“To the beach.”

“Willow,” she wails. “That’s such a steep hike.”

My brother stands in the doorway, and I sense he wants to talk, but I’m done talking. I want this to be over. I want it all behind me. The next stage awaits.

“I want some time alone.” I pass Orlando’s bewildered gaze and leave for the sandy strip of beach that has served as my haven.

Orlando believes he saved me by suggesting this match, and perhaps he did. But it’s infuriating that I needed saving. That I was born into a world where some men think my purpose in life is to serve their needs.

When I reach solitude, I open my arms, letting the breeze cool my skin and swirl my hair. I won’t have this in London. Of course, I don’t have any idea where I’ll be living. He might live outside of London and simply tell people he lives in London.

“I’d expect after yesterday you might think twice about wandering around by yourself.” His deep voice comes from behind me, blending with the soothing sea.

I lower my arms, wrap them around myself, and angle my body to face my future partner. “All the men are at a celebration tonight. Why aren’t you with them?”

“I’ve played my role. If it weren’t for you, I’d be on a flight to London.”

“I’ll be a good wife.”

Amusement flashes across his face in the form of a slight smile and crinkles around the corners of his eyes. He’s wearing casual clothes, shorts and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled midway up his forearms. He’s barefoot, and his leather sandals dangle from two fingers. His mocha brown hair whips around, and, drizzled with salt air, curls spring around his brow. He told me he’s older, but like this, it doesn’t seem so. He looks like he would have been my friend at university, more handsome than any of my friends actually were, but…once again, I’m struck by the feeling he’s a good person, syndicate member or not, and all the fears Scarlet attempted to instill in me dissipate.

He scans the beach, then his gaze cascades over me. “Are you wearing any necklaces? Carrying a phone?”

My fingers trace my clavicle. I removed the locket earlier today when trying on dresses and jewelry and forgot to put it back on.

“No.”

“If you’re going to walk around by yourself, carry a phone. So you can call someone if needed.”

I don’t carry my phone because I’m fully aware my parents track my every move with it. Last night I didn’t have it, but… “You truly think there’s a tracking device in my locket?”"

He gives me a knowing look, which reminds me of Scarlet. I’m naive. He gestures to the shore. It’s low tide, so the stretch of sand is wide. “Shall we walk?”

I loved that locket, a gold heart, a gift from my father on my sixteenth birthday, but I shall leave it behind.

“This marriage, tomorrow. You understand it’s an arrangement? I’ll do this to protect you, to get you away from here, but all we have is an arrangement.”

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