Page 18 of The Wrong Fiancée

I gave him the Cliff's Notes and then added, "I feel something is off. Not with Elika but with Felicity. I thought she was all into family and generous, and now…."

"You know I've never liked her," Dante pointed out. "I think she puts on a show…wears a mask, depending upon who she's with."

"Nah, man, she's genuine." But was she, or was I just defending her because I'd put my ring on her finger?

"Amico, it's your life."

"How's your crisis in Rome?"

"A clusterfuck. My grandfather is trying to arrange my marriage."

"What? Does he know what year it is?"

"I don't think Dante Senior gives a flying fuck. He's found me some virginal Italian girl. She's from a village or some shit and cooks really well."

"You own Michelin-star restaurants; you don't need a wife who can cook," I quipped.

"Si. It looks like I've averted getting hitched for now. I get on a plane tomorrow. I'll see you for dinner?"

"You mind if it's with the Thatchers?"

"Tutte bene! Dinner with a friend and Hale Moana's important guests—I don't mind."

I sat on the expansive lanai of the bungalow after the call, the rhythmic crash of the waves doing little to settle my restless mind. Felicity was away with her mother, Rebecca, and Cristin for a spa day—no doubt enjoying some lavish treatment that would give them something to casually boast about over dinner later. I was supposed to play golf with Sam and Michael, but I bailed for scuba diving with Theo instead. Golf wasn't what I needed today, and frankly, neither was more time with Felicity's father or uptight Michael.

I left my lanai and headed for the front desk, from where Theo and I were to be driven to the dive spot.

Scuba diving in Kauai, I discovered, was something else entirely. Crystal-clear waters, the sun cutting through the surface, revealing a whole world beneath the waves. There was something surreal about it, almost otherworldly. The reef stretched out below like a living canvas, painted with vibrant coral and darting schools of fish in colors I couldn't even name. Occasionally, a sea turtle would glide past, serene and unbothered. If you were lucky, you'd spot a manta ray gracefully sweeping through the blue. It was peaceful down there, a calm that felt deeper than anything I could find on land. Maybe that’s why I’d chosen it today—an escape. A chance to clear my head and forget, even for a moment, everything waiting for me above the surface.

I had surprisingly enjoyed my day with Theoevenwhen we weren't diving. He was in his early twenties and reminded me of myself backthen—caught between figuring out who he was and whohe was supposed to be, wrapped in the awkward tension of wealth and family expectations. I knew that feeling all too well.

Theo was drying off beside me as the afternoon sun dipped lower into the ocean.

"Sam is a great guy," Theo said as we drank beers at the small bar by the beach that looked like it came from central casting with a thatched roof and a bartender who talked too much. "Ginny, I can take or leave. My parents are close to Michael and Rebecca, and they come here every year, so I…well, you know how it is."

I did. The pressure of these annual gatherings, the small talk that was more of a social dance than a genuine exchange of words, could be overwhelming. Theo was already starting to tire of it, just as I had at his age.

"How long have you and Cristin been dating?" I asked, shifting the conversation.

"Like a few weeks." He let out a long sigh, his eyes flickering over to me. "Can I ask you something? Will you give me an honest answer?"

I shrugged, taking a sip of my beer. "Sure."

"What do you think of Cristin?"

I paused, the question catching me off guard. I barely knew her beyond her penchant for giggling at the wrong moments, talking over everyone, and being unnecessarily bitchy about Elika. I didn't want to be harsh, but there wasn't much substance to Cristin.

"I'm afraid I don't…ah…thinkanythingof her."

He nodded like he expected that answer. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he muttered, running a hand through his wet hair. "I know this is too personal, but…you know you're nothing like the guys Felicity normally dates, right?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Who does she normally date?"

"Business guys. Well, like you, but they're more…I don't know, into the whole social snobbery thing. You're not."

I leaned back in my chair, considering his words. Wasn't I, though? I'd spent my entire adult life climbing the ladder, making the right connections, navigating the ins and outs of the artworld's elite circles. I'd chosen Felicity—intelligent, poised, and well-connected—because she fit. She checked off every box: Ivy League education, PhD, perfectly respectable family, and the social graces to maneuver high society with ease.

But Theo's words gnawed at me. Was that all there was to it? I stared out at the horizon, the sky turning a soft pink as the sun started to set.

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