Page 7 of Luca
"Then I'll handle that too. I'm not some sheltered twenty-five-year-old who's never been in a difficult situation. I've learned how to protect myself."
She nods, but guilt is eating at her. Sending me into a situation she's too afraid to face herself.
"Tell me about his personality," I continue. "In the conversations you've had, how does he treat you? Is he kind? Impatient? Controlling?"
"Distant," she says after thinking about it. "Polite but distant. Like he's going through the motions because it's expected. I don't think he particularly wants to marry me either. It's just business for both families."
"That's a positive thing. If he's not emotionally invested, he's less likely to notice little differences in personality."
"What if this ruins your life? What if you end up trapped forever in a marriage to someone who doesn't even want you?"
"It won’t be forever. As soon as I figure out how to safely bail out, I will. Until then at least it'll be my choice. My trap, my decision. You've been trapped your whole life by other people's expectations. I'm choosing this."
We continue planning until there’s no more time left.
“It’s time,” I say, grabbing her in one last tight hug. “Go before you change your mind.”
“Thank you,” she replies. “I owe you my life. I love you, Gabby.”
“I love you too. Now hurry and go!”
I watch from the window as she makes her way across the gardens in my leather jacket and cap, just another figure in black heading toward the road. She doesn't look back.
Now I'm all alone.
I spend the rest of the afternoon mentally preparing, trying not to think about what tonight will bring. I practice Sofia's signature until it's perfect. I study every photo on her phone, memorizing faces and names. I rehearse walking in her high heels, sitting with perfect posture, speaking in the soft, measured tones she's always used.
At four o'clock, the beauty team arrives. Hair, makeup, dress fittings. I sit still as they transform me into the picture of virginal elegance. Pin curls and pearl earrings. Subtle makeup that makes me look innocent and untouchable.
The wedding dress fits perfectly, of course. We've always been exactly the same size. Ivory silk that flows behind me, hand-sewn pearls that catch the light. I don’t recognize the stranger in the mirror.
It’s not me. Not Sofia. Something in between.
Before I know it, Papa knocks on the door. "Sofia? It's time. We need to go."
I take a deep breath, smooth down the silk of my wedding dress, and open the door.
"I'm ready," I tell him.
He looks at me and nods approvingly. "You look beautiful."
It’s all I can do not to slap him. If only he knew which daughter he was really looking at.
As we walk toward the garden where three hundred guests are waiting, where Luca Romano stands at an altar covered in white roses, I think about Sofia. She could beanywhere by now. On a train heading north, south, east, or west. The not knowing is probably what will keep her alive and safe.
I'm about to marry a dangerous stranger to give my sister a chance at freedom.
And tonight, I'll have to convince him that I'm the innocent virgin bride he's expecting, while having no idea what kind of man he really is behind closed doors.
But I've made my choice. Sofia is free, and I'm about to find out what price that freedom costs.
Chapter 4: Luca
Weddings are big business. That’s how I treat them. That’s how everyone in my world treats them.
The chapel my stepmother chose for the wedding sits on a hill that’s seen more blood than blessings. Three hundred guests fill the pews. Politicians who owe us favors, judges who’ve sold their rulings. Rome’s real power, all dressed up to watch a business deal dressed as holy matrimony.
I’m at the altar with Father Benedetti, his spotless white robes making him look like he’s never had to crawl through the gutter to survive. My Father is in the front row, carved from the same stone as the building, hands on his cane, eyes sharp. My stepmother’s dabbing at her eyes for the cameras.
