Page 1 of Luca
Chapter 1: Gabriella
The dragon tattoo is a terrible idea, and I tell Carlos exactly that while he waves a bottle of liquor around.
"Listen to me, you beautiful idiot," I say, grabbing his wrist before he can take another swig. "You're going to wake up tomorrow with a half-finished dragon eating your stomach, and your girlfriend back in Santiago is going to dump you over FaceTime."
Carlos blinks at me with those puppy-dog eyes that probably work on most women. "But Gabriella, you have nice tattoos."
"I have good tattoos. Done by professionals when I was sober." I gesture to the faded henna artist in the corner of this underground Prague dive bar who's been eyeing Carlos like he's her retirement fund. "That woman learned her trade from YouTube."
The bar smells like cigarettes and whatever they're passing off as absinthe tonight. It's exactly the type of place I love. Chaotic, anonymous, full of people running from something. I've been in Prague for weeks, and I was planning to stay several more.
Then my phone rings.
My sister, Sofia's ringtone cuts through the noise. The moment I see her face on my cracked screen, everything elsefades. The drunk Germans singing football chants. Carlos and his dragon tattoo dreams.
"Sofia?" I press the phone closer to my ear, already moving toward the exit.
She's crying. Not her usual delicate tears that she dabs with tissues. This is ugly crying. Desperate gasping, breathless sobbing.
"I can't do it." Her voice is so weak I can barely hear it. "Gabby, I can't marry him tomorrow. I feel like I can't breathe. Every time I think about walking down that aisle to marry a stranger, I start panicking."
I shoulder through the crowd, past a table of Australian girls doing shots, past the bouncer who's been trying to get my number all week. The Prague night air hits me cold and sharp when I step outside.
"Where are you right now?" I lean against a graffitied wall, watching my breath fog in the streetlight.
"In my bedroom. In my wedding dress." She laughs, but it sounds broken. "I put it on to try it one more time, and I just can't do this. I'm going to ruin everything. Papa made this deal, and the Romanos expect a wife tomorrow."
"Screw what they expect. This is your damn life, not a business transaction."
"You don't understand, you’ve never been trapped."
"I've been trapped plenty,” I say. “The difference is I know how to break out."
She makes a sound that's part sob, part laugh. "I'm not brave like you. I can't just run away and live on trains and sleep in hostels. I’m stuck in this life with Papa. There are things I’m expected to do, family obligations to live up to."
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the building.
She's right.
Sofia's always been the good twin, the one who stayed home and learned to cook Papa's favorite meals and studied art history because it was "appropriate." She spent her life reading novels about adventure while I lived them.
And now my sweet sister faces expectations I never had to face.
"Do you want me to come to Rome?" I ask quietly.
The pause stretches so long I think the call dropped. "Yes,” she finally says. “Please. I know you hate it here, and I know we’ll have to keep you a secret, but I... I need you."
That's all it takes, and I'm already mentally packing.
"I'll be on the next train out. Don’t worry, I’m on my way."
"Gabby, the wedding is at sunset tomorrow.”
"Then I’d better hurry. I’ll be there."
I hang up and immediately start calculating the trip from Prague to Rome. Overnight train if I'm lucky, but I'll probably have to route through Munich or Vienna. My backpack is at the hostel. I can grab it and be at the train station in thirty minutes.
Carlos stumbles out of the bar behind me. "Gabriella! Where are you going? The night is young! Don’t go!"
