Page 27 of Humility

My father sat down beside me and handed over a glass of wine. It wasn’t unusual for my dad to offer me wine, but ten in the morning seemed suspicious.

“Papa, what is going on?” I asked, looking at Ciro, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes, which worried me more than anything else. Whatever this was, it was bad. My heart thumped harder, and my pulse spiked. The sound of blood in my ears reminded me of the whooshing sound of the tide. Except this time, it wasn’t calming.

“Nothing bad, mia Bambolina,” he said, patting my hand. “Don’t look so worried. This is a celebration.”

“A celebration? For what?”

My father was practically brimming with excitement.

“Your marriage into my family,” Bruno jumped in and said.

I swallowed down the bile that rose in my throat. “Who am I to marry Papa,” I asked, horrified that I was being married off to Bruno. Ciro’s mother passed away when he was a baby, or so everyone believed, but I figured something far more sinister had happened to her. That was a horrible thought but Bruno wasn’t much better than Jacapo on my creep-o-meter.

“To Ciro, of course. Who did you think you’d be marrying?”

I looked at Ciro. He finally looked up at me, and I could see his silent plea to keep quiet. There were far worse fates in the world than to marry your best friend, but there would never be any romantic love between us. Our love would never be more than what it was right now, and we would both be trapped forever in a loveless and sexless marriage. Except to have a child, and I cringed at how awkward that would be.

“What?” That was all I could get out. The shock had stolen all pleasantries from my mind as my gaze swung in Bruno’s direction.

“Is that how you speak to your father-in-law?”

My mouth fell open as I stared at his smug face.

“Come now, Bruno, she is clearly in shock.”

That was an understatement.

“Father, please. I knew about this, but Jasmine did not,” Ciro said, and I shot him a ‘What the fuck are you talking about’ look.

“You could’ve fooled me with all the sneaking around the two of you do. I’m surprised she’s not already pregnant,” Bruno said, waving his hand at us. I gripped the material of my dress so I didn’t jump up and smack the man across the face.

My papa jumped to his feet, his hands balled into fists as he glared at Bruno. “What did you just say about my daughter?”

“No offense meant.” Bruno leaned back on the leather couch and crossed his ankles. “Just simply stating that we all know how much time they spend together. I hardly find this shocking news.”

My teeth ground together as I glared at Bruno, but he ignored me and stared at my papa.

“That better be all you meant by that statement. If you are trying to tarnish my daughter’s image, I will have Jacopo show you the door.”

Bruno rolled his eyes. “Sit down and stop being so dramatic. No one is here to hear my joke, but if it makes you feel better…” Bruno finally looked at me. “I’m sorry for insinuating your intimacy or lack of intimacy with my son.” He picked imaginary lint off his black pants, and I wanted my papa to shoot the man. “Happy?”

Papa sat down and laid his hand over my clenched one.

“You don’t look happy, mia Bambolina. I thought this would be exciting news. You’re twenty-three now, the perfect age to settle into a new life and family. You and Ciro seem like the perfect match, and I know how much Ciro loves you.”

I could read between the lines. Papa had a limited understanding of what happened with Angelo. He was aware I had sex with him, but nothing about Dario. Part of his outburst was him ensuring my indiscretion remained secret. He wanted me looked after like the doll he called me. I didn’t want that.

“Papa, I mean no disrespect. You know Ciro and I adore one another, but I hadn’t considered marriage. Do you not want me here with you anymore?”

“What? Of course, I do, but I will not live forever. You are a princess but will never inherit the family business or, head seat or wealth. I have a cushion set aside for you, but you deserve so much more. Bruno and I have come to a mutually beneficial agreement to protect both our children for years to come.”

“So, to protect me, I need to be married off? Like a burden?”

“In some countries, you would be considered a burden,” Jacopo said, and I glared at him. “Worth no more than a couple of cows.” Papa glared at Jacopo, but he was staring out the window as if he hadn’t just called me worthless. “Your father only wants what is best for his beloved. I would happily take Ciro’s place if you prefer?” Jacopo said, glancing back toward me. An evil smile curled his lip. I almost threw up in my mouth at the thought of him crawling into bed with me at night.

“You are my third cousin, Jacopo, that is revolting.” His dark eyes twinkled, and goosebumps rose along my skin. I knew he was picturing me without the layered dress. The servants who had accepted an invitation to his bed whispered about his peculiar tastes and feared to sleep with him again. Some were given the choice, others not so much. Some never came to work again.

“I’m just saying that it is an option if you don’t want to accept Ciro,” Jacopo said. My father opened his mouth, but Ciro jumped in before he could reply.