12. Stefania

It feels like I'm a plastic bag drifting around in the wind. I flit around the house trying to get a feel for the place, but nothing feels right. There's nowhere to hide, for starters. Everything is wide open, and even though Davide's gone for most of the day, I feel totally exposed. Anyone could walk right inside and find me, and there are like two total doors that I can shut and lock if I need a second of privacy.

The homesickness hits me that night when I'm lying in bed all alone. I miss my apartment and my brothers and even their wives. I miss my nieces and nephews. I miss the Famiglia too, even though it pisses me off, but at least I understood it and knew most of the people. I miss Philadelphia. I miss my friends and my job.

I wake up the next morning to half a dozen missed calls from Giorgia. After showering, puttering around the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator in the hopes that food will magically appear, I finally decide to call her back even though I know this is going to be a miserable conversation.

"Where the heck have you been?" she asks, sounding a mix of frantic and worried. "You basically disappear, send me some batshit insane email, and you haven't bothered reaching out since. I'm at red alert over here. I've been Googling the phone number for the Chicago Police Department all morning. Stefania, what the hell is going on?"

I sit up straight and curl my legs under me. "First, don't call the police."

"Is this like some kind of kidnapping situation where if I reach out to the cops they'll kill you? I mean, I know the rumors about your family and all that, but still?—"

"Giorgia, I'm fine. And I'm serious, please don't call the police."

"Are you under duress right now?" she whispers. "Say I love Kentucky if you really need me to call the cops."

"Stop it," I say, trying not to smile, because I know she'd put herself through hell if she thought I was in trouble, and that's the sort of friend I need right now. Even if I could do without the police drama. "I'm genuinely safe, okay? Things have just been extremely weird lately."

She lets out a long breath. "No shit. According to your email, you got married and moved to Chicago, which makes basically no sense at all."

"Yeah, well." I close my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose. "Unfortunately, it's true. You know how you said you're aware of the rumors about my family? Let's imagine some of those are true, and theoretically, I got married for political reasons. Now I'm out here living with a man I barely know and barely keeping it together."

Giorgia's quiet for a second, then she says, "Are you sure you don't want me to call the cops? Say, I love you, Giorgia, right now and I'll do it, I swear."

"Would you stop it? This was my choice."

There's another long silence and I can read a whole lot into that pause. Whatever she's feeling, I'm also feeling, but magnified by a thousand-fold. I don't even recognize myself right now. This whole arranged-marriage thing is bizarre, even by my standards, and I keep wondering who I am and what the hell I'm doing basically every waking second. It very much sucks.

"I don't get it," she says at last, which was pretty much a given. Giorgia's from a good family: her mom's a doctor and her dad runs an insurance company, which means she was raised typical upper-middle class and as straight as an arrow. The idea of marrying because her mafia Don brother asked her to is impossible to conceptualize.

"Can you trust that I'm safe at least? And please don't make things worse."

"I'm not trying to make things worse," she says and sounds a little defensive. "I'm just trying to understand why you're still there. I mean, do you actually want to be married to the guy? Why don't you just walk away? I don't know what your family convinced you to do, but come home, Stefania. This is crazy."

I stand up and start pacing. "That's not helping right now. Can we just talk about something else please?"

"Uh, no, because my closest friend lost her mind and married a total stranger and is living in a different city. I'm kind of freaking out."

"You're freaking out? I'm losing it and you're not being supportive." I feel this conversation spiraling out of control. If I were in better control of myself right now, if I had gotten more than a few hours of sleep and if I weren't in an insanely stressful situation, I might be able to salvage this.

But Giorgia's stubborn, and I'm angry, and we end up getting into an argument. She can't accept that this is my choice, and I just want to feel two seconds of normalcy, and neither of us is getting what we want. I end up slamming the phone down onto the floor in frustration and disconnecting the call.

I had hoped hearing her voice would make me feel a little less homesick, but all it did was make everything worse.

The door opens, which makes me freeze. Davide was gone when I woke up, although I remember him coming in some time in the middle of the night and going to sleep without a word. He appears in the front doorway and steps inside, and his eyes rake over me for a moment before shutting and locking the door behind him.

There's nowhere for me to go. The entire first floor is completely open, and maybe I could lock myself in the bathroom, or maybe I could run up the stairs, but he's already coming toward me.

"You look upset," he says, which pisses me off for some reason I can't identify.

"Thanks, that's helpful," I say and scoop my phone off the floor. I groan because the screen's cracked.

"What's wrong?" He doesn't move, but I feel him scrutinizing me. "Did someone from my family come over?"

"No, I had a conversation with my friend Giorgia that didn't go well, that's all." I don't want to explain this to him. I march over to the kitchen and get myself a glass of water. "I need to get food for this place. Am I allowed to go to a grocery store?"

He cocks his head, considering the question. "Of course you are. There's a number you can call to request a car. It'll come with two guards, but they'll tail you at a discreet distance."

I close my eyes, feeling more trapped than I've ever felt before. "Since when did I need guards?"

"Since Uncle Luciano decided to sink three of our ships down at the docks."

That gets my attention. My eyebrows raise and my glass pauses at my lips. "Uncle?"

"He's not my actual blood." Davide walks over and leans against the island, looking tired. "But he and his organization are part of the reason why we wanted to ally with your brother."

"Great," I say, finishing my water and slamming the glass down in the sink. "I can thank your fake uncle for ruining my life."

Davide takes a deep breath like he's trying to gather his patience. "Stefania?—"

"No, please, don't." I'm being unreasonable. He hasn't done anything wrong. Except he's the root of the problem. "You know what's messed up? All I want is to be alone right now, but this freaking creepy house doesn't have any walls." I blow past him towards the stairs.

But he catches my wrist. His grip is iron as he tightens it, his jaw flexing in anger. "You're pissed. I get it. You had a bad conversation with your friend. But don't start taking it out on me."

I wrench myself free of him. "I'm going to the bathroom. I'm going to shut the door, and I'm going to sit in the tub for a while. Please, just leave me alone."

His face doesn't change, but he nods slightly, and I swear he looks a little hurt.

I storm upstairs and by the time I'm alone again, regret slams into my chest.

Davide didn't deserve that. My little comment calling his house creepy was totally uncalled for, but I'm too ashamed of myself to turn around and apologize. Instead, I hide in the bathroom like I said I would, feeling completely pathetic and alone.