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I’m silent on the long drive back. It’s a perfect time to continue the conversation we started last night, but I’m too drained. Tomas doesn’t say anything, either. We get to his parents’ house well after midnight, tiptoe up the stairs to our bedroom, and fall asleep.
The next morning, I’m in the middle of my first cup of coffee when my phone rings. It’s my father. “Alina,” he says, his voice strained. “I need to talk to you urgently. Can we meet somewhere this morning?”
Tomas is sitting at the table across from me. “It’s my father,” I mouth, and his lips twist wryly. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s obvious what he’s thinking. Here we go.
This is my father’s attempt to convince me to marry Damir. I’m about to agree when I remember the conference I was supposed to be attending. “I have to be at a demonstration at eleven,” I lie. “But I’m free until then.”
We pick a restaurant near the port. I’m about to hang up when my father says, “Don’t bring your boyfriend. I need to talk to you without him there.”
My heart sinks. Even after everything, there must have been a small part of me that was still hopeful. “Whatever you have to say can be said in front of Tomas. And he’s not my boyfriend. He’s my fiancé.”
“Please, Alina. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t ask you. Please do me this favor.”
I just want this all to be over. I want to return to my real life in Venice. I want to be in my gym, stuck inside that tiny office with Tomas, the two of us trading insults at each other. And the fastest way to do that is to hear my father out. “Okay, fine.” Tomas’s expression turns thunderous, and I know we’re going to have a fight about my decision. “See you in an hour.”
I hang up. “Before you say anything about how it isn’t safe for me to go alone, remember that you repeatedly assured me we’d be safe in Valencia.”
Tomas continues to frown at me. “We are safe in Valencia,” he says, an exaggerated note of patience in his voice. “That still doesn’t mean you should take unnecessary risks.”
“He’s not going to talk if you’re there,” I say wearily. “You know that as well as I do. If you join us, it’ll just be a repeat of last night. Let’s just cut to the chase.” Tomas opens his mouth to argue, and I add, “I want you to come to the restaurant. Just stay out of sight.”
He considers it for a minute and then nods tightly. “I still don’t like it. But fine.”
Tomas goes to the restaurant early to stake it out. I take a taxi there half an hour later. I arrive a couple of minutes early, but my father’s already there, seated at a table by the window, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands.
He gets to his feet as I approach. “I’m glad you could come.” He waves to the chair across from him. “Sit. You want something to eat? They make a good sandwich here. The Valencians have this mid-morning meal?—”
“The esmorzaret,” I cut in. “I’m not hungry.” I smile at the hovering waitress. “Could I get a glass of orange juice?” Valencians are very big on freshly squeezed juice. Even the tiniest cafe I’ve passed has a juicer.
She nods and disappears to fill my order. When she’s out of earshot, I direct my attention to my father. “You said you wanted to talk about something important…?”
“I did.” He hesitates. “I don’t know how to say this. I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a mess.” He takes a deep breath. “A big mess. I entered a business arrangement with a Russian named Gregori Malinov. Gregori is Damir’s father. Sabrina’s future father-in-law.”
I try and look confused. “Okay?”
“When Sabrina died… it complicated things. Gregori only entered the deal with me because we were going to be family. Now that we’re not, he wants out. And if he pulls out of our agreement, I will be ruined.”
“What does this have to do with me?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“You’re my daughter,” he says. “If you were to pretend to be engaged to Damir?—”
“What?” I spit out.
“It’s just for a month or two, that’s all. I just need enough time to convince Gregori to honor his word. Once he signs on the dotted line, you can break off the engagement.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You want me to pretend to be engaged to some stranger?”
“He was engaged to Sabrina,” he replies, as if that makes his idea sound less crazy. “He’s not a stranger. You saw his photo last night.”
“What difference does that make? I’ve never met him.”
“He’s in Valencia. I can arrange a meeting this afternoon.”
“No!” I take a calming breath and then another. “I can’t do this. First, what you’re asking me to do is crazy. Second, I’m engaged to someone else. And finally?—”
“Tomas,” my father cuts me off with a sneer. “I saw the car he was driving last night. Damir can provide so much better than that for you.”
Not that it matters, but we were driving Tomas’s father’s car. Jose Antonio had generously loaned it to us when he heard us talking about getting a rental. For Vidone Laurenti to sneer at it, to dismiss Tomas based on the car he’s driving…
