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“I know.” I cut him off, patting his arm. “We’re all just pawns in the game.”
“Maybe you’ll be better off here,” he said and I could hear the hope in his voice. “Maybe he’ll be…” he paused like he was searching for the right word, “Kind to you. Or good at least.”
“Maybe,” I whispered and leaned my head against his shoulder as we got to the bottom of the stairs, “I guess we’re about to find out one way or another.” I took a deep breath and followed my parents through the house, looking at the expansive and meticulously cared-after home.
It was breathtaking, in reality.
It had the ancient charm of a mansion that had survived world wars and revolutions, with the comfort and beauty of modern upgrades. If I was being honest, I was kind of excited to explore it as my home.
Or one of them.
Mother had said that Nicolas was only in residence at Armarow Estates a few times a year, which left me wondering if I’d be with him when he moved around his different homes. Or if I’d be put up in a place like this, and kept like a possession on a shelf in a formal living room that no one ever sat in.
I couldn’t decipher if being ignored by a man I didn’t want was more appealing than being the object of his attention.
I guess I needed to lay eyes on him to figure out what I felt towards him.
Besides the feeling of anger at being told I had no choice but to marry him.
That pissed me off.
“Arianna,” my father called as we entered a lavish dining room, decorated with candles and flowers elegantly. “You sit here, across from me,” he nodded to a seat to the right of the head of the table. He took the one to the left of the head and my mother sat next to him. Carmine took the seat next to me, as my other siblings filled in the empty seats until only the one at the head of the table remained empty.
Nicolas’ seat.
Where was he?
Did I think he’d be here waiting for me? Excited to meet his young bride?
Probably not.
But the version of him in my head that had haunted my dreams, was always a grey-haired unattractive fat old man who drooled and pawed at me crudely. Though, he’d have to be present to do any of those things.
“Dinner is served,” Manny, the head butler spoke from the entrance as men and women walked into the room with platters of food and started serving.
I eyed the empty chair next to me as my plate was filled with all kinds of delicious-smelling foods that I hadn’t been given in months. My father thought I needed to lose weight before my wedding, so he made me follow a strict low-calorie diet to shave off the pounds.
My family dug into the meal, and I took a few tentative bites as I looked up under my lashes. The food was phenomenal, but my appetite was off from the tonic and before long I was full.
“Papa,” I questioned cautiously, “Where is Mr. Capasso?”
My father huffed around a mouthful of lamb and waved his hand at me. “He’s busy.”
“Busy?” I asked, forcing my tongue to move in my mouth to form words through the fatigue of the tonic. Even chewing the food had tired me out.
“Yes,” he snapped, drawing a few looks from the waiters lining the wall behind him. “He’s a busy man.”
“When will I meet him then?” I questioned, against my better judgment, knowing he was not interested in talking to me. But he had assured me that we’d meet tonight, given that my wedding to the man was tomorrow.
For fucks sake, was it too much to ask to meet your groom before the altar?
“When he feels like it!” my father snapped, slamming his fist down on the table and clattering the silverware. My eyes rose to more cautious glances from the staff that were seeing the side of my father he rarely ever showed to anyone outside of our household. “He doesn’t have time to be bothered with the inconsequential woes of a blushing bride.” He glared at me. “Now eat your meal and stay quiet,” He picked up his wine and polished off what had to be his third glass since we sat down. “Besides,” he smacked his lips together, “The blessing ceremony will commence after the meal is finished, you’ll need substance in your belly for it.”
My stomach rolled at the mention of the ceremony taking place tonight. I think I would have dreaded it more than the actual wedding if I was allowed to be honest. I put my fork down and pushed my plate away defiantly. It was the first glimpse of disobedience I’d shown in a long time.
My father took it as well as I thought he would. He slammed his fists down on the table and leaned across it to grab me in anger. Carmine put his hand on my arm and pulled my seat back out of my father’s reach hastily, nearly toppling me over onto the floor, but it kept his hands from striking me. “Papa!” My brother hissed, nodding his head to the now-open stares from the staff in the room. “Remember why we’re here,” He whispered.
I panted in my seat as fear and anxiety burned my spine.
