16. Emily

Istand in the hall and try to get myself together, but my heart's racing and my hands are sweaty, and I keep seeing Simon's dad's expression, that pure loathing and contempt.

I expected some anger. Maybe even a little yelling. But I never imagined his father would look at me like I was trash incarnate, and it was extremely degrading and disgusting.

And yet Simon had stood up for me. He didn't exactly punch his dad in the face—his father hadn't said anything really that bad—but he did make it clear that I'm his wife, and that matters to him. Somehow, it matters to me, and I don't even know why.

Maybe I'm just nervous that this is going to fall apart before it even starts. If his father really is that annoyed by our relationship then it won't serve the purpose that Simon wants it to. And if that's the case, he'll divorce me and all that money I so desperately need for my own dad's issues will evaporate into thin air.

I'm practically hyperventilating when Elena finds me.

"Emily, I just heard what was happening. Are you okay? How'd it go?" She hurries toward me and stops short when she spots my face. I must look pretty bad, because she grimaces. "Oh, shit. Tell me everything."

She steers me back to the steps. I swear, this freaking family is just dragging me around today. But I give her the full story from start to finish.

"Damn, he didn't even know to start with, and Simon went in there only half-prepared." She groans as we reach the sidewalk and hurry away from the watchful stares of the guards. "I'm really sorry about that, Emily. My father wasn't always so difficult."

I burst out laughing because the word difficult feels like a quaint understatement. "I find that hard to imagine. He was staring at me like I was a plastic sack of liposuction fat."

"Okay, that's one I've never heard before. But honestly, Dad's been going through a lot lately." We stop outside of Simon's house. My house, or at least it is for a little bit longer. Who knows what it'll be when he comes back out of that office. "He got shot and he hasn't been the same since."

A little sympathy pangs through me. "How bad was it?"

"Bad," she says and sits down on the porch. I sit beside her, feeling a little reluctant to hear more, because I don't want to empathize with the guy. But I should know what I'm dealing with. "The bullet grazed his spine and he hasn't been able to walk the same since. He's in constant pain and he pushes himself way too hard to stay on top of all his responsibilities. You might think Simon's doing this because he wants the power for himself, but you're wrong."

I sit back, trying to digest that. "Why else would he do it then?"

"Simon's happy as the heir." Elena smiles at me and crosses her legs. "I mean, he has all the power he could want without any of the stresses of running things. Becoming Don, especially right now, would mean ten times more work. He's only doing it because we all know our father needs to retire if he's ever going to heal and move past this, and because the Famiglia needs him in charge."

I try to picture Simon as the dutiful, self-sacrificing son, and find it pretty hard to imagine. From what I can tell, Simon only does whatever Simon wants, from breaking into my car, to breaking into my apartment, to trying to micromanage my underwear choices. He controls and shapes and manipulates, and I've gone along with it because I need the money and because I can handle the stress.

But I never stopped to consider that maybe he had other reasons.

The door to the house opens suddenly and I'm startled as a woman steps out. She looks surprised to see us, but then her face brightens as she rushes over to me.

"Oh my god, you must be Emily," she says and grabs my hands, helping me up and giving me a tight hug.

I make a noise that's half a grunt and half a yelp, and it's not very dignified.

"Emily, this is Stefania," Elena explains. "She's married to Davide, another one of my brothers."

"It's so nice to meet you." Stefania pulls back, beaming. She's extremely pretty—olive-hued skin, thick black hair, deep brown eyes, and a very athletic body. She's wearing tights and a workout shirt, but she somehow makes it look chic. "Gonna be honest here, it's not easy being the sole non-Bianco woman."

"Mom's not a Bianco," Elena points out.

"She doesn't count." Stefania sighs and steps back, giving me a little personal space again, which is nice. But then I see the man lurking behind her and wonder how I missed him.

The guy's enormous. He's built like an industrial freezer. Massive shoulders, huge chest, and a face like an All-American quarterback, except more Italian. His lips are full and his wavy hair is windswept. It's obvious that he's the Davide in question—the Bianco family resemblance is strong.

"Nice to meet you," he grunts at me and offers a hand. I shake it, and notice burn scars, but I don't let myself stare.

Stefania hangs off her husband's arm. "Davide here seems like a giant, grumpy T-Rex, but I promise he's a massive softie. Just get to know him."

"I'm perfectly capable of putting the girl at ease myself," he grumbles and shows me teeth in what I assume is meant to be a comforting smile, but looks more like a hungry bear trying to keep from mauling a juicy salmon.

Stefania starts talking about life at the oasis, launching right into all the different structures—apparently, some of them are guest houses, some of them are offices, and one is actually a gym strictly for the family—while Davide lurks in the background. He's quiet, a bit standoffish, but Stefania talks enough for both of them.

I can almost forget about the ugly scene back in the office. I can almost pretend like I'm a part of this family—with the friendly, comforting Elena and the outgoing Stefania and even the brooding Davide—but that look Don Bianco gave me back in the office won't get out of my head.

I've never felt so degraded before in my life.

And all at once, it reinforces all the bad things I've assumed about this arrangement, how I'm just a prop and a wet hole for Simon to use up and toss aside, how I'm letting him drain me the way those scammers drained my father, how the balance of power here so clearly favors my husband that I'm left fighting for every scrap of dignity available. Even though Stefania, Elena, and Davide are treating me like a real human being and seem to be trying to make me feel like I'm at home, this precarious and absurd situation is finally catching up.

"I'm sorry," I say at a break in the conversation. "But I'm actually not feeling too great." I try to seem apologetic as I get up and inch toward the door.

Stefania gives me a knowing look. "I didn't feel good my first few weeks here either," she says and touches my arm as I pass. "Don't worry. It'll get better."

"Now she loves it," Davide says, pulling his wife against him.

She laughs and twists in his arms, kissing his chin.

I open the door and slip inside, catching a worried look from Elena, but I hurry upstairs before they can stop me.

I won't ever have what Stefania has with Davide. Their arrangement worked out, but that doesn't mean mine's going to. They had a lot going in their favor, but most of all, they entered into their relationship as equals.

Simon looms over me, looms over all of this, and I can't shake the feeling that he's casting a large shadow across my life.

I retreat into the guest room, close the door, and turn the lock, before I curl up in bed, not caring if my fancy silk blouse gets all wrinkled.