I grab the pale pink dress I left on the bed.
While I’m trying to zip the damn thing up, I hear footsteps in the hallway.
“Paola!” my mom yells. “Your father wants to see you. Come! Hurry!”
He snaps his fingers, and just like that, his puppets have to move.
I let out a growl from the back of my throat as I stride to the door.
“Living room,” my mom says once I’m in the hallway, and I can see the judgment in her hazel eyes as she looks me up and down.
Everyone always finds something to hate about me.
I guess I exist to piss people off.
At least in my world.
Four guards stand in front of the door and regard me carefully.
I force my lips into a fake smile as I enter the living room. My father faces the window, his back to me. A servant is in the corner, pouring him a glass of whiskey.
Once the servant is gone, my father turns to me. His cold light blue eyes instantly narrow. He approaches me and roughly grasps my chin.
I glare at him, gritting my teeth.
“You’re flushed,” he says. “What were you doing?”
“Just hurrying here because you summoned me.”
He lets go of me, his lip curling in disgust. After picking up his glass, he takes a gulp of his whiskey.
“You’re to be married,” he says, his gaze meeting mine.
My jaw hits the floor.
Married?
No.
No fucking way.
But maybe it’ll be easier to get rid of my husband than my father.
“Everything’s been arranged. The wedding will be held next week,” he says. “I expect you to be on your best behavior. You will obey your husband and be a proper wife. Don’t embarrass me. You were born for this sole purpose, and I hope your mother taught you everything you need to know. I don’t like disappointments, and neither does Victor Santarossa.”
I stare at him as if someone just spilled a bucket of freezing water all over me.
No, it can’t be true.
I must’ve heard it wrong.
There’s no way my father would marry me off to that family.
Our biggest enemy and rival.
“What?” I say. “Santarossa?”
Annoyance flashes through my father’s eyes. “Yes.”