“Miles.” She looks at me. “Savannah, how nice to see you again.”
I don’t speak.
“My mother is speaking to you,” Miles says.
Again, I don’t speak.
“Damn it, Savannah. Say hello to my mother.”
I will not obey him. I refuse. He can force himself on me. He can force this marriage. But I will not take orders.
And I pay for it.
With a blow to my head.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m on my knees in the marble foyer.
Maggie helps me up. “It’s easier to just obey,” she whispers in my ear.
I look at her—really look at her. She was no doubt married off at a much younger age than I am now. Probably eighteen, which is when they wanted me.
The look on her face is one of pure resignation. Understanding of her lot in life. Of the role she’s been hired to play.
Not hired, rather, but forced.
It’s her way of telling me to accept my fate. To play the role.
All my needs will be taken care of.
This I know. I will live in luxury…as long as I know my place.
To be the trophy wife of Miles McAllister. The wife that binds the McAllister and Bianchi families together.
I rise to my feet and stare at Miles, fire in my eyes.
Still I say nothing.
“You’ve chosen to play the hard way,” Miles says. “I expect by morning you’ll change your tune.”
Yes, I’m sure I’ll be raped tonight. Violated in the worst ways. Probably beaten. But only where no one can see bruises.
Maggie takes my arm. “Come on, Savannah. Let’s get you a hot beverage.”
I don’t want a hot beverage.
But by the grace of God, Miles doesn’t follow us.
Maggie takes me to the kitchen. “Boxy, could you prepare some tea for Ms. Gallo and myself?”
“Certainly, ma’am.”
Maggie gestures to a seat at the table. “Please.”
Why not? She’s trying to help me, after all. I sit.
“Would you like something other than tea?” Maggie asks.
I don’t say anything.