Page 42 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
I raise the glass to my lips with a dramatic sigh. “You are all terrible influences.”
“That’s why you love us,” Trilby says, clinking her glass against mine.
The sunset casts gentle shadows across the lawn, which has been transformed into a glittering cocoon of fairy lights, Ella Fitzgerald and the deliciously forbidden scent of greasy snacks. No forced fiancés. No watchful eyes. Just me, my sisters and Allegra.
Tess glances at me from her spot on one of the floor cushions and licks sugar off her fingers. “Do you think His Royal Highness eats peanut butter popcorn in secret? Maybe he’s got a stash hidden in his gun case orthe closet of suits he reserves for dinners with government officials.”
I force a laugh. “He probably doesn’t eat anything that hasn’t been scanned for allergens, toxins, or bad PR.”
Trilby giggles but a tension follows it as they remember what my future role has been laid out to be. I won’t be a hospitality manager, with my own life, my own independence, like everyone had expected—me included. Instead, I’m going to be the arm candy of a crime lord, an accomplice in his underhand seduction of high society players and politicians.
My quip about bad PR might have been made in jest but there’s a disturbing truth to it. I’m under no illusion that having me on his arm will reflect well on Andreas. I’m a sibling of Cristiano Di Santo’s wife—one of the now-famous Castellano sisters. That apparently propels Andreas into another league of influence, according to Tess. He’s not only forcing me into a life I don’t want, but he’s using me for his own gain. And that makes me feel nauseous.
Even peanut butter popcorn is rapidly losing its allure.
I turn to Allegra. “Where is Papa this evening?”
Her skin pales a little. “Well, it’s a bachelorette party isn’t it? I banished him from the house.”
My eyes narrow. “That wasn’t the question.”
Each of my sisters turn their gaze to Allegra. We know where Papa is but we want Allegra to say it.
“Fine.” She heaves out a heavy sigh. “He’s with Antonia.”
“Cristiano’s aunt…” Tess confirms.
Allegra shrugs. “Yes. I believe your father has taken her to dinner.”
“MacDonalds I hope,” Bambi mutters, earning herself a Trilby-shaped elbow in the ribs.
“I think it’s nice he’s dating someone.” Everyone spins to face me in surprise. Out of all of us, a liberal attitude toward Papa’s love life was least expected of me, what with my current predicament and all. “At least he gets a choice—it’s good he’s exercising that.”
Trilby frowns. “You’re okay with it?”
I rub my temples which are tight with tension, despite the champagne. “There are bigger things right now for me tonotbe okay with. I suppose I’m not sweating the small stuff. I mean, he’s just having fun—it’s nothing serious.”
My gaze flicks briefly to Allegra, just enough to see her cheeks pale further still. When she catches me looking in her direction, she jumps up from her chair. “I need more bubbles. And we have some cold meats in the refrigerator too. I’ll be right back.”
“So, Sera,” Tess begins as I watch Allegra return to the house, “what have your tarot cards being saying the last few days?”
My sisters look back at me expectantly and I give my head a short shake. “I haven’t done them in a while.”
“What?” they chorus.
“But you used to do them every day,” Trilby says, stunned.
“I don’t really feel like there’s any point. My future has been decided for me.”
“But, you always said the tarot wasn’t about fortune-telling—it was about helping you reflect on situations and see them from different angles.”
I shrug because I don’t want to tell them the truth. I have been reading my tarot—every day. And every day it’s been telling me the same thing. I keep dealing the same cards. Three of Swords, Eight of Cups and Five of Pentacles.
The Swords card was the first I drew when I was finally alone after Trilby and Cristiano’s wedding. It indicates heartbreak and betrayal. I couldn’t have drawn a more fitting card for then, for now, for the future.
The Eight of Cups points to the possibility of someone walking away. That person won’t be me because I’ll be holed up in a prison of my marriage’s making—I won’t be going anywhere. But Andreas… if there are any emotions there to speak of—which I doubt—he will withdraw them completely.
And finally, the Five of Pentacles. This card is well-known for depicting isolation, but, let’s face it, I’m going to be alone in Massachusetts without a soul to speak to. That isn’t a surprise. But the Five of Pentacles goes deeper than that. Deeper than anyone around me would dare to imagine.
