I pin my hair up and stare at my reflection in the mirror. If the circumstances were different, I would allow myself to admire my reflection. The emerald green eye shadow has made my brown eyes pop unnaturally, and something about the dress I'm wearing—the same shade as the eye shadow—gives my skin a lovely glow. My mother will be proud of my appearance. My father will be devastated. I steel myself for both. My mother's eagerness to marry me into the Ferrante family is heartbreaking considering she knows who they are, better than anyone else in our world. If she were a better person, I wouldn't hate her for this. I would understand that she didn't have a choice in the matter; that she's putting on a show so they don't suspect that joining our families is the last thing in the world that we want to do. But she isn't a good person. As for my father, his devastation will undoubtedly affect me. He hasn't been the same since my mother announced what she considers a 'fortuitous match'.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Sarah says. "We've heard much about you, Laura.""Only good things, I hope," I tell her robotically. Automatically. The family chuckles lightly. Well, all of them except Luca. Where do I start? He's not at all what I was expecting, and not because he's younger than I thought he would be. His appearance comes as a shock to me. He's actually good-looking. As much as I would like to say that he's atrocious looking, I can't. It'll be a filthy lie. His nose is long and straight, and slightly broad, but it doesn't mar his features. His eyes are brown—like mine—but they're framed with dark and thick lashes. My eyes are practically naked, and I have to accentuate my eyes with thick layers of mascara and eyeliner. His lips aren't too thin, and his cheekbones are high. When he smiles at me, I notice that his upper teeth are straight, but there's some crowding on his bottom teeth. Again, it doesn't mar his features. He has a lovely smile. Charming. It's meant t
Victoria cackles. "So, he's not old and wrinkly?"I groan and turn on my side on Victoria's bed. I prop my head on my hand and sigh. "Not exactly."Brett arches a brow at me and crosses his legs. Out of all my closest friends, he's always been the one who could read me easily. He knows when I'm lying. He knows when I'm exaggerating. And he knows when I'm bullshitting. We've known each other for years. Since middle school, to be exact. Right now, I'm keeping the full truth from them and he can sense that. I'm just not prepared to tell them about Luca Ferrante. The matter is far too serious to take lightly. "What's that supposed to mean?" Victoria asks while combing her thick black hair. There's a wrinkle between her brows, and her lips are pursed as she waits for an answer. I tell her, "Never mind. I don't really want to talk about it. I'm still...processing things."Brett eyes her suspiciously as he combs his hair back. I try not to appear nervous to him, but it's getting impossibl
I wake up with the sun in my eyes. If anything, it exacerbates my headache. I flip over to my stomach and cover my face with my pillow to block it out. I don't have the energy to stand up and close the curtains. Last night's events race through my mind, and the force of my disgust is enough to make me sit up and get out of bed. I draw the curtains before entering the bathroom. I take a long warm shower, but it does nothing to soothe me. I'm still thinking about Luca Ferrante and the bottle of champagne with an anger that is unknown to me. I've never felt this angry before. I'm shocked by his impertinence. But there's something else deep down that I can't identify, and this unidentified emotion is adding another layer of depth to this poisonous cocktail of emotions inside me. Could it be fear?I don't answer the question as I close the taps and get out of the shower. Once I'm in my room, I take two ibuprofen and get dressed. It's past eleven o'clock, which means I've missed breakfa
It's been a slow day, and I haven't been this irritated in a while. My conversation with Mary has ruined my mood entirely. I should be relieved that she's genuinely excited about this but something about this whole affair reeks to me. I have a bad feeling about all of this and I can't explain why. I just do. Mary and I didn't speak for the remainder of the day. It's not that I'm upset about her answer—I should actually be relieved about this. It's that I know that her words are a projection of our mother, and so she might not be genuine about this. It's no secret that mom wants her to marry that guy, and what Mary is doing is bringing mom's wish to life with her acceptance. It's sad and there's nothing that I can do about it. It just is. I wanted to leave earlier to have lunch with Victoria and Brett, but Constance told me that mom wanted us all together when she arrived, and so this ruined my plans. I'm beyond irritated at this point, and it feels like the world is conspiring aga
I hate that despite my unwillingness to attend this wedding, I'm ready on time. Not being ready on time would start another argument with my mom, but as much as I would like to argue with her, it's better to keep things the way they are. I know how she can get when she doesn't have her way, and I don't want that at the moment. I want to attend this damned wedding and see the end of this awful day. I check my reflection in the mirror. I'm fairly satisfied with it. There were more beautiful dresses in my closet, but since she wants me to wear this one, I will. I don't care how I look. It's not that it's a bad dress; it's too plain for a wedding. Weddings are glamorous affairs for people like us, and most of the time, the women wear designer dresses. Mom bought this dress at a store I've never even heard of. I don't know what she's thinking, but I won't challenge her. Again, I couldn't care less. After accessorizing, I make my way downstairs. Mom is there with her arms folded, and sh
Our eyes meet occasionally, and I can't seem to understand why he keeps looking at me. Mom and Mary joined me as soon as dad arrived a few minutes ago. Mom scolds him for being late, but he makes no reply. We glance at each other, and his exhaustion becomes mine. She keeps going on and on about how bad he made the family look, and he simply bows his head in greeting to anyone we know who walks by. Mom stops momentarily and forces a smile but as soon as they're out of earshot, she continues with her pointless speech. I feel Mary glance at me but I'm still mad at her for reasons I can't comprehend myself, not fully. Maybe I began fearing her duplicity for the first time ever. I've never seen her friendliness with mom as a threat, not until today. There's a lot I've said to her about the way I feel about mom, and if she reported everything back, well...Deep down, I know I'm being unreasonable. I know Mary. I know she isn't like that. But the fear won't leave my bones and I don't know h
I'm shocked to see him standing in front of me. What does he want? He's holding a glass of champagne. It's full, and he twists it around in his hand without spilling his drink. I'm distracted by the sloshing golden liquid for a few beats, and then I look back at his face. His eyes are searching mine keenly, and I'm torn between ignoring him and demanding to know what he wants from me. I decide to go with the latter. "May I help you with anything?" I ask sarcastically. His mouth quirks. "Not unless you're serving canapés."I grit my teeth. I shouldn't have said anything. I take a sip of champagne and unwillingly remember the bottle of champagne from last night. God, I can't believe that was just last night. It feels like ages ago. He glances at the glass in my hand meaningfully but says nothing. I can tell that he's thinking about the same thing as I. I tilt my head back and drink the last of the champagne. The silence between us is beyond awkward. I don't know why he felt the n