Willow
Scarlet tugs on my braid. Her lips are downturned, her eyes despondent and dark. Even her brilliant red strands appear dull in the evening light.
“This is a good thing,” I reassure her, though not quite believing it. But if my parents planned on marrying me to a made man, a man who killed for initiation, then this indeed presents my best chance for escaping this world.
A puffy white concoction hangs on the garment rack in the middle of the room. The dress is one of several my mother had sent by courier from Milan, and the only one that required minimal alterations. It’s too tight in the ribcage and transforms my average breasts into bountiful mounds, an attribute my mother values. I look like a swirl of meringue in the dress, but it’s what Mamma wants, and I have no preference.
My future groom prefers men. If I’m lucky, we’ll foster a strong friendship. He’s a good man, with kind brown eyes, and courage. He fought off both Leandro and my father. He’s a fierce man, but his expression softens around me. There’s every reason to be optimistic we can spawn a supportive partnership.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” Scarlet’s voice is soft and meek. Her fears stem from experience, a horrible one.
I take my cousin’s hands and squeeze.
“He’s not a Lupi Grigi.”
“He’s in the syndicate, Willow. For all we know, that could be worse. And London. If you need help…” Her eyes glaze with unshed tears. “How would I know?”
“If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?”
“Who would I tell?”
She’s right. She doesn’t like anyone here, and I can’t blame her. They stood by and did nothing, and now they have the audacity to judge her for protecting herself. “Promise.”
“I promise.” She forms a swift cross over her heart.
“He’s gay. That’s why he’s willing to do this.”
Her eyes narrow. “How do you know?”
“Orlando told me. And think about it. He travels to the Middle East. Places where it’s frowned upon or even criminalized. That’s what he gets out of it.” I reach for her hand, but she pulls it back, distrust evident in her frown.
“You don’t know…Vincent wasn’t motivated by sex.”
“He saved me. I…Scarlet, please. He’s better than Leandro.”
She sinks onto the mattress.
“You’ll come to visit. Often. He travels frequently.” Her eyes narrow, fully aware I met the man yesterday. “He told me. I promise you’ll come and visit me, and we’ll find a reason for you to stay. I don’t think he’ll mind.”
“You’re so young.” Scarlet’s six years older than I am, but she and Aunt Caterina lived with us after her father died. She’s my cousin, but she’s more like a sister.
“I’m three years older than you were when you got married.”
Moving to London means I can pursue a career. For the first time since returning home from Florence, excitement thrums from possibility.
“But you’re naive.” She won’t drop it.
There’s a truth to her observation that stings. Days ago, I thought Papa wouldn’t force me into marriage. I was naive. He may run one of the legitimate businesses, but he’s a Lupi Grigi member. And to serve his business, he contemplated selling me to the worst of all the men.
Spread out along the table is the lingerie my mother hand-selected, and trunks are open, brimming with my clothes. Mamma has the staff working overtime today, preparing to ship me off, cheerful because Papa told her it was a good liaison. My union took priority over this weekend’s engagement celebration, so much so she and I both missed today’s festivities. But we’d been productive.
“I need air.”
“Where are you going?” Scarlet’s miffed, but the portrait is painted, so to speak, so there’s no point in hearing her negativity.
“To the beach.”
“Willow,” she wails. “That’s such a steep hike.”
My brother stands in the doorway, and I sense he wants to talk, but I’m done talking. I want this to be over. I want it all behind me. The next stage awaits.
“I want some time alone.” I pass Orlando’s bewildered gaze and leave for the sandy strip of beach that has served as my haven.
Orlando believes he saved me by suggesting this match, and perhaps he did. But it’s infuriating that I needed saving. That I was born into a world where some men think my purpose in life is to serve their needs.
When I reach solitude, I open my arms, letting the breeze cool my skin and swirl my hair. I won’t have this in London. Of course, I don’t have any idea where I’ll be living. He might live outside of London and simply tell people he lives in London.
“I’d expect after yesterday you might think twice about wandering around by yourself.” His deep voice comes from behind me, blending with the soothing sea.
I lower my arms, wrap them around myself, and angle my body to face my future partner. “All the men are at a celebration tonight. Why aren’t you with them?”
“I’ve played my role. If it weren’t for you, I’d be on a flight to London.”
“I’ll be a good wife.”
Amusement flashes across his face in the form of a slight smile and crinkles around the corners of his eyes. He’s wearing casual clothes, shorts and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled midway up his forearms. He’s barefoot, and his leather sandals dangle from two fingers. His mocha brown hair whips around, and, drizzled with salt air, curls spring around his brow. He told me he’s older, but like this, it doesn’t seem so. He looks like he would have been my friend at university, more handsome than any of my friends actually were, but…once again, I’m struck by the feeling he’s a good person, syndicate member or not, and all the fears Scarlet attempted to instill in me dissipate.
He scans the beach, then his gaze cascades over me. “Are you wearing any necklaces? Carrying a phone?”
My fingers trace my clavicle. I removed the locket earlier today when trying on dresses and jewelry and forgot to put it back on.
“No.”
“If you’re going to walk around by yourself, carry a phone. So you can call someone if needed.”
I don’t carry my phone because I’m fully aware my parents track my every move with it. Last night I didn’t have it, but… “You truly think there’s a tracking device in my locket?”"
He gives me a knowing look, which reminds me of Scarlet. I’m naive. He gestures to the shore. It’s low tide, so the stretch of sand is wide. “Shall we walk?”
I loved that locket, a gold heart, a gift from my father on my sixteenth birthday, but I shall leave it behind.
“This marriage, tomorrow. You understand it’s an arrangement? I’ll do this to protect you, to get you away from here, but all we have is an arrangement.”
“But we’ll make it look real, so people believe you’re, well…” I let him fill in the blanks, but I need to remind him this isn’t just about me. He benefits, too. I learned that from Father. Both sides benefit in a prosperous arrangement.
“I’m not really gay, you know.” I side-eye him, and he’s grinning.
“But if you’re not… Why would you agree?”
“I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.” He’s still grinning, but my stomach sinks. If Orlando’s theory is wrong, what is he getting out of this?
“You know, I’m not a virgin.” It’s customary in our world to expect a bride to be one, and if that’s what he thinks he’s getting…
He smiles so wide the moonlight glimmers across his teeth.
“I’m serious. If that’s—”
“I’m not a virgin, either. At twenty-two, I didn’t expect you would be. And it doesn’t matter. What’s between us…” He gestures back and forth over the space between us. “It’s for show. I’d never—” He smooths his fingers over his lips, and the effect is of wiping his smile away. “No woman should be forced to marry a man like Leandro De Luca. You’ll come back with me to London, and we’ll get you set up. What do you do?”
I blink, unsure I understand the question.
“You went to university. A man I was speaking to earlier today mentioned it. What’d you go for?”
“Art. I’m a painter.”
“Ah. Well, good. We’ll find a studio for you to work in. I have a friend with connections in the art world. You’ll pursue your art. That’s what you’ll do.”
My heart vibrates in my chest, flittering like a bird about to be released from a cage. Naive. Scarlet’s word haunts me. “And what do you get out of it?”
“Oh, I get to feel good about myself.” He shoves one hand in his pocket and kicks a foot through the water, sending rivulets splashing.
It’s hard to trust him because that doesn’t mesh with what I know of men. It doesn’t matter what they do. The crueler they are, the better they feel about themselves.
“And a stronger allegiance with your father’s business is helpful.”
Ah, there it is. He’s looking to either get into the shipping business or inherit my father’s business. “Orlando will inherit Titan Shipping.”
“I’ve no interest in shipping.”
Again, amusement. “This isn’t funny.”
His pace slows. “It’s the strangest situation I’ve ever been in. Sometimes you’ve just gotta laugh. Anyway, I think you’ll like London.”
“I’m confused. Do you want me to act like your wife or not?”
“I suppose you’ll need to act like you’re my wife. But not because of your father, but because of Massimo. Your father and I spoke earlier today. His one fear is that Massimo will see through this as a manipulation to avoid giving you to his brother. It’s a lovely family you have.”
The dig is deserved. “What’s your family like?”
The question sparks something I can’t put my finger on—sadness, I think. His smile disappears. “They’re good people.”
“Will I meet them tomorrow?”
“No, they couldn’t make it in time. And, as you know, this is an arrangement. I wouldn’t ask them to drop everything for this.”
“Right. Of course.” That was a stupid question. Even from my side, only immediate family will be present. Rumors will probably fly that he took my virginity and father forced him to marry me.
“But you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you, right?” My words feel suggestive, and that’s not what I intended. “You’re doing so much for me. I want to return the favor, if I can.”
“I’ll need for you to be smart, stay safe, and build a life that makes you happy. You do that, and it’s favor enough for me.”