Page 65 of His Two Hidden Masks

Command me to marry Roberto? I repeated his words inside my head. My heart pounded. My palms were sweating. Just when I thought I understood the depth of my father’s anger at me, he revealed more. Did he really think it was his right to control me forever?

“Starting right now, you stop talking about Bella Baci. It is over. It is done. Also, you stay away from Dylan Street.”

I stared at my father, all of my optimism and hope from the morning faded with his every word.

“You walked away from a marriage that would not only have been good for you, it would have been good for our family.”

Rooted in my seat, I could not speak. Grief and shame over my father’s disappointment in me cut deeply.

“We are now in a weakened position,” he said. “The investment of Street Entertainment will allow our family to continue living the lifestyle we, the lifestyle you, have become accustomed to.”

Here was the truth, unfiltered and blinding. My father blamed me for not saving our family with a loveless marriage. I wanted to tell him how much it hurt, to tell him how wrong it was to ask me to give up happiness for money.

I said none of these things. I sat in silence knowing that arguing with my father would do nothing but make things worse.

“Stop causing trouble, Bella,” my father said. “For once, focus on what this family needs from you, so we can close this deal. And after Carnival,” his tone changed, and he smiled, “I think you should spend time in Milan.”

“Milan? Why?” I found my voice, confused by this turn in the conversation.

“Once you stop wasting your time on this Bella Baci dream, you can refocus your energy on our hospitality business. We will be completing renovations in Milan at the end of this year, and James is recommending we invest more.

It is poised to be a new crown jewel in our portfolio, and I want you there. You start in Milan, then you will spend three months in each of our properties. I want you to understand our business inside and out.”

“What about Roberto?” I asked.

“He will stay in Venice, and you will go to Milan.”

“I see,” I said, realizing that the future my family had mapped out for me was so different from my dreams.

My father’s smile widened. “You see, I just want you to focus on the right things, Bella.”

In his twisted way, he thought this was how we made amends. This was Umberto Uzano’s version of an apology. I nodded and stood. “Anything else?” I asked, my mind spinning.

What was I going to do? He was dangling a carrot in front of me that I supposed would motivate someone else, but I knew better. This was a jail sentence and not a reward.

“No more business proposals,” he said. “I want no more stories of conflict between you and Roberto.”

“I understand,” I said, wanting to run out of his office.

There was a soft rap at the door.

Lissa poked her head in. “Signor Uzano? Roberto asked me to bring you a hard copy of the legal amendment.”

My father nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Lissa. I’ll take them now.”

Over my father’s shoulder, my focus landed again on the painting behind his desk. We looked like a happy family. Would we have stayed happy if Sara hadn’t died?

In the painting, my father’s smile looked warm and joyful. My mother’s eyes were not haunted. I held the hand of my beloved sister. I wasn’t alone.

And now, I stood in front of a man who held the title of my father, but who looked nothing like the happy man captured in that canvas.

“Hello, Bella.” Lissa glanced at me as she rounded the desk to hand my father the updated paperwork, her eyes sorrowful. She encouraged me in the kitchen, and now she was a witness to my total humiliation. She didn’t need to hear the conversation. I knew she sensed my ruin.

My legs wobbled as I left the room. I saw no way out. There was nothing more to say, nothing more to do, other than accept the role my father offered. I walked down the marble staircase toward the front door on auto-pilot.

The idea that Roberto would expose my sex-capades in the glass factory paled in comparison to my father’s admission that he blamed me for not solving his financial problems. He wanted me to give up on Dylan, and even worse, my dreams.

I walked outside into the crisp January air. Carnival decorations were installed across all the storefronts. Colorful banners billowed from windows, and masks dangled from balcony rails.

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