Page 81 of Corrado

“Come on,” Siena murmured, forcing Ginevra to stare up at her through watery eyes, “look at me, huh? Don’t let them come in here and see this, all right? Don’t let them see what they’re doing to you—they don’t deserve that. I promise they don’t.”

Ginevra dragged in lungful after lungful of air. She willed her anxiety and raging emotions to calm, but while it helped, it still felt like a whole war continued to battle on inside her heart and mind.

“What am I going to do?”

Siena blinked. “What?”

Ginevra swallowed the lump in her throat.

It ached.

Like the rest of her, too.

“What am I going to do, Siena?” she whispered, lips trembling. “If I run, they have my sisters. If I can even run, because I never get the chance. And if I stay, then I have to marry a man I haven’t even met yet. What am I going to do?”

Siena’s fingers tightened around Ginevra’s shoulders. “For right now, you’re going to get up, let me fix your face, and then we’re going to sit down in the pew like nothing is wrong. You’re going to get through this day, thank people who offer their condolences, and make sure Kev and Darren think you’re doing everything they want. Okay?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’ve been doing it. This doesn’t change that.”

Ginevra let out a slow stream of air. “And then what?”

Siena’s eyes burned brightly. “Never worry about those girls, Ginny. I will look out for them, if you can’t. I promise you that. Don’t ever think you have to stay for them when there are people here who will take care of them, too.”

“I can’t just leave them to Kev and Darren.”

“Stop.” Siena gave her a look. “They’ll be fine. They are too young to be married off, and right now, they wouldn’t even consider those girls for anything else. What we have to figure out is how we’re going to get you out of this.”

“You shouldn’t help me,” Ginevra mumbled. “Look what happened to my mama.”

Siena nodded. “I know, but I can’t stand back and do nothing, either. That’s not who I am.”

Which was why she was different, Ginevra knew.

It was why she could trust her.

“What am I going to do?” she repeated.

“Give it time. We’ll figure something out.”

But would they?

The first time Ginevra met her husband-to-be, Andino Marcello said very little to her. He was kind, of course, and polite, but that was as far as it went. He didn’t seem interested in discussing the wedding with her brothers, and he certainly didn’t care to talk about it with her.

Not that she minded.

Even she was doing the very bare minimum that she could regarding the planning. If someone asked her for an opinion, she gave one, but that was it.

It wasn’t like she wanted it.

Why should she care?

The couple of meetings that happened after that first one with Andino were basically the same. Safe, kind conversation that didn’t make Ginevra think he was anything different than the other men in the mafia life. The only obvious difference about Andino was the fact he was actually an heir to a criminal empire.

The next boss, she was told.

You should be grateful, Kev had taunted her. We picked you a husband that women in this life would kill for, in a position they would give anything for. And you cry about it?