Page 43 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
It suggeststotalabandonment.
Bambi tugs on my arm. “I’d still like you to do minefor me. Maybe after the wedding? I could come visit you.”
I squeeze her hand. “I would love that.”
While Tess and Trilby take the opportunity to grill Allegra on Papa’s burgeoning relationship with Antonia Di Santo, Bambi leans in to whisper in my ear.
“For what it’s worth, I think all of this is awful. Just horrible. I hate to see you going through this.”
I pull back a little and lie through a smile. “I’m going to be fine, Bambi, don’t you worry. You just focus on school and getting good grades so that one day, you can stand on your own two feet without our family’s help.”
Her face contorts into something heart-breaking. “I’m scared, Sera.”
I grip her hand tightly. “What? What are you scared of?”
Her bottom lip shivers. “I’m afraid that with you and Tess and Trilby all married—or as good as married—to Cristiano’s men, I’m going to be next.”
I shake my head in an weak attempt to reassure her that such a thing won’t happen, but I didn’t think this would happen to me, so I know I’m not convincing.
Her voice trembles. “I don’t want to get married. And even if I did, no one would want me. Papa will be so disappointed.”
“Bambi stop.” I place a hand on her shoulder. “No one is setting you up for marriage. You’re too young, and even when you’re older, it won’t happen. I won’t letit. Do you hear me? I won’t let them do to you what they’re doing to me.”
“But Trilby and Tess…” she starts.
“They’re different. They fell in love with Cristiano and Benito. No one forced Trilby into marriage, and I don’t see any pressure being put on Tess.” I sigh, hoping I can convince her she has nothing to worry about. “This arrangement I’m a part of… it’s all to help cement an alliance between Cristiano and Andreas.”
Bambi still looks like a petrified rabbit in the glow of approaching headlamps.
“Cristiano wasn’t looking for an alliance when Andreas showed up. It’s possible this might be the last, at least for a while. Anyway, it isn’t good to keep thinking of what might happen. You’re nearly seventeen, you’re beautiful, you’re full of life. Enjoy who you are now.”
“But I feel so terrible for you, and this wedding tomorrow…”
I pull her into a hug. “I’m okay, Bambi, you don’t need to worry about it.” The foreboding cards I keep drawing flash across my lids and I swallow. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”
I hold it together through the few hours of my bachelorette party and even manage to enjoy it a little. But Allegra ushers me to bed before I can get too tipsy,and promises to wake me bright and early so the preparations can begin.
It was my decision to get ready at our home on Long Island before driving to Manhattan for the ceremony. The day after the wedding, I will be accompanying Andreas to New England and stepping into my new life straight away. I’m staying here one more night because want to hold on to my present life for as long as I can.
When I’m alone in my room, my gaze drifts instinctively to my desk. I thought I’d gotten relief from the constant build-up of tension before I went downstairs, but the yearning inside me grows the second I entertain the idea ofone last time.
I wasn’t myself downstairs. I was playing a role—the role of the dutiful mafia wife-to-be. There’s nothing anyone can do about my predicament and I could see the toll my situation is having on my sisters and Allegra, so I behave as though I’ve accepted it. I’m not being authentic, and I loathe myself for it. But, there’s nothing else I can do.
I can’t run away—if the Di Santo’s didn’t find me, someone else would, and there’d be a price on my head. I can’t fight it either because too many people want this alliance. As a Castellano, I have to be a team player. This is how our family is now. All I can do is hope that Andreas will at least be civil with me in my new home, and that when he wants an heir, he’s gentle and brief.
My stomach rolls, my fists clench and I reach for the key. I open up my kit and remove the dressing on my thigh. The blood along the cut has dried. I know justhow deep and long to go to keep the bleeding to a minimum. I don’t want my dressings to be visible beneath my clothes. The first prick drags a long sigh from my lungs then the ensuing pain makes me grit my teeth. I don’t look; I just cut. I just feel my flesh opening up, the blood running down my thigh.
For a moment, all my worries disappear, and all I focus on is the pain radiating across my leg. It’s a relief to not have my head full of questions and fears. When the pain subsides, I open my eyes and lower my chin. The first thing I see is bright white taffeta hanging on my closet door. The skirt looks like a fine cotton cloud and the bodice sparkles with silvery crystals.
But the picture isn’t perfect.
Because in my periphery is a river of red.
Andreas
“You ready?”
Arrow lifts his gaze to mine. We’re standing in my suite at The Plaza, both of us in our tailored Italian best, lowballs in hand.
