Chapter 21

21

Olivia

I am not ready for this. So not ready for this. After that run-in with Massimo in the bathroom of their Don's house, I made it back to the conservatory, managed to walk past the rest of my family to my sister, and stood by her side as my one-time lover slipped an engagement ring on her finger. I stood by as pictures were taken of the newly engaged couple. They hadn't held hands or anything, thank God. In fact, Massimo didn't do much, except stand next to her stiffly, as his family and mine congratulated the two of them. Then, thankfully, everyone moved to the formal dining room for lunch.

There were two tables in the room—one for my family and one for the Cosa Nostra. Whoever had been in charge of the seating arrangements had been farsighted enough to realize that, while the two families are being joined in marriage, it doesn't mean they get along very well together yet. My sister is seated opposite me. Normally, she'd have been seated at the Cosa Nostra table, since she is now engaged into the family, but she opted to sit with us, and the Sovranos had not demurred. My family didn't protest, either, which was unusual considering how much of a stickler for tradition they are. Maybe they're just happy to have their daughter with them a while longer?

The back of my neck prickles and I know he's staring at me from across the room. I refuse to acknowledge it, though, and keep my gaze riveted on the plate in front of me as I play with my food.

"You need to eat, Livvy; you're fading away." My mother scoops up a spoon of the risotto and brings it to her lips. I've told her so many times, I hate being called Livvy, but does she listen? Of course not.

"The food's not bad, eh?" my aunt pipes up from my other side. Yep, the two maneuvered me so I‘m seated between them.

"You'd think, since we're lunching at the house of the Don of the Cosa Nostra he'd, at least, have provided for a five-course, if not a seven-course meal." My mother sniffs.

"I think the food's tasty," my younger cousin pipes up.

"Don't interrupt when the adults are taking," my aunt scolds her.

"I'm almost eighteen," she points out.

"You're not yet eighteen," my aunt shoots back.

"And when I am, I'll be gone," she says triumphantly.

"That's what they all say; then look what happens." My aunt glances at me in a not-so-subtle manner.

I blow out a breath. "If you want to say something, you can do so to my face."

"Oh, it's not my place." She scoops up more of the food. "I'm only your aunt, after all."

"I, on the other hand, have no such compunctions," my mother announces. She turns to me, but I refuse to meet her gaze. I know what's coming. More of the same ol' same ol'. She doesn't disappoint. "You've had your shot at doing what you wanted. I'm glad you finally came to your senses and returned home."

"I haven't returned home. I'm merely here because Solene wanted me to attend her engagement."

"And now that you're here, it's time you think of getting married." There you go. That didn't take too long, did it?

"I've told you many times, I'm not getting married."

"Oh, pfft." My ma waves her hand in the air in a gesture she's used so many times with me in the past. The gesture that indicates what I think doesn't matter. That she'll have her say, and I have no choice but to listen. I raise the glass of water to my lips and steel myself, but even I'm shocked when the next thing she says is, "Of course, with that scar, no one's going to want to marry you now."

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting exhibit A: my mother, who never pulls any punches. I choke on the water and burst out coughing.

"There, there." Mamma pats my back. "I know it's a tough thing to hear, but maybe it's God's way of telling you your career is no longer worth pursing and it's time for you to come home and get married to a good Catholic boy."

"I thought you just said no one will marry me?" I say when I've stopped spitting all over my food.

"I meant, no one of good prospects. On the other hand, there are enough men in the community who'd be happy to marry you, for a good dowry, of course."

"Of course," I say through gritted teeth.

"Good thing you're still of childbearing age, though it would be too much to assume that you're still a virgin."

"You know I'm not, Mamma; you caught Raoul leaving my room when I was sixteen," I shoot back.

My mother touches her pearls. "Please, Livvy, must you bring up such unsavory topics while we are eating?"

"You brought it up first," I point out.

She blows out a breath. "Is that any way to talk to your mother? I only have your happiness at heart. You know that."

Guilt twists my insides. "I know. It's just... I'm not going to get married."

"Why, is there someone else?" my sister asks from across the table.

I shoot her a glance. "And if there were?"

"I knew it." She leans forward with her elbows on the table. "Who is he?"

"No one you know." I glance away in Massimo's direction, only to catch him staring at me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I look away, keeping my gaze trained on my sister.

"Did you meet him in LA?"

"Maybe."

"Not in LA, then. Closer to home? In this city?"

"I'm not saying anything."

"So that's how you managed to make it to my engagement. You were already in the city."

"I'd have come from wherever I was; you know that."

Her face cracks in a wide smile. "I do. And I'm so pleased you're here." She flicks a coy glance in Massimo's direction, then back at me. "I think I'm going to be so very happy with him."

"How do you know? You just met him."

"When you know, you know," she says in a soft voice. "There's something about him that I find very reassuring."

"Wait until you get to know him better," I say under my breath.

"What was that?" My mom shoots me a dirty glance. "It's bad enough you're not ready to get married; don't scare off your sister who's doing the right thing."

"Fine." I raise my hands. "I didn't mean anything, okay? It's just—" I turn to Celia. "How can you marry someone you don't love?"

"Love, shmove." My mother huffs. "You young people put too much importance on what's essentially a fleeting emotion."

"What else is it about?" I frown.

"Security? Protection? Someone who can take care of you and make sure you never want for anything material?"

I gape. "What about everything emotional?"

"That's why you have children, and sisters, and girlfriends?—"

"And aunts," my aunt pipes up.

"So, according to you, the only reason someone needs to get married is for money, and then for sperm donation."

"Do you always have to be this gross?" My mother eyes me with disgust.

"Just repeating what you told me, Mamma," I drawl.

"I thought, at least, now that you've learned your lesson, you'd be more amenable to settling down. Seems I was wrong."

"Why, because I'm scared because you think no one will want me now? Is that why?"

My mom pales. "You know I didn't mean to hurt you by saying that. I was simply pointing out the obvious."

"Gee, thanks. Like I don't get enough of it every time I look at myself in the mirror."

"Livvy." She sets down her spoon and turns to me. "You know you'll always be beautiful to me."

"You have a funny way of showing it, Mom."

"I am your mother; it's why I have to watch out for you. I only want to see you settled."

"And I don't want to be settled. There are a lot of things I want to do to prove myself first, Mamma."

My mother wrings her hands. "I should have never allowed you to leave home. I should have married you off the first chance I got."

"Like I would have allowed you."

"It's not too late." A cunning look comes into her eyes. "There's this man?—"

"No, absolutely not." I allow my fork to fall from my hands with a clatter. Silence sweeps across the table. My brother looks up from where he's been speaking to my uncle from the other side of the table.

"Can you leave her alone, Mamma?" He scowls at her. "Olivia's old enough to figure out what's best for her."

I narrow my gaze on him. "And why are you coming to my defense, fratellino?"

"I'm your brother." He scowls.

"Yeah, that's why I ask. Like the rest of the Mafia guys, all you care about is seizing more power. If you think you can get it by marrying me off to some other clan, you can think again." I glance at my sister, who's been watching the exchange in silence. "No offense."

"None taken." She shoves her hair over her shoulder. "But you should know, I was happy to go in for this arranged marriage. I'm not doing this against my will."

"Something I don't understand at all," I retort.

My mother scowls at that, but I ignore her. "You have so much going for you, Solene. You're smart, talented, beautiful; you can have any man you want. You don't have to sacrifice your future for the sake of the family."

She glances away, then back at me. "I really don't mind marrying the man my family has chosen for me," she says softly.

A cold hand grips my heart.

I walked away from Massimo, by choice. I knew I needed time to find myself again, to figure out my shit and where I'm going with what I've become. And I couldn't do it if I allowed him into my life. I needed space to breathe, to be myself, and I could never do that if I plunged straight into a relationship with him. Also, I admit, I was insecure. I have a scar on my face, and he's the most gorgeous, most lethally attractive man I've ever met. Of course, I couldn't allow him to tie himself to me. Not when he could have anyone else. I needed time to think, and figured it would help to put distance between us. That's why I told him that lie. I didn't think it would hurt him so much that he'd go straight into an arranged marriage. With my sister! And now, it's too late. Surely, now, I can't step in between them. Not if she's set on marrying him. There's only one way out. I need to, somehow, get away from here.

"Excuse me." I dab at my mouth with my napkin. "I'm late for my rehearsal." Ah, how easily the lies come from my lips. I rise to my feet, my movements precise. If I make any swift movements, I might shatter.

"You're leaving? So soon?" Solene cries out.

"Sorry, sis, I wouldn't if it weren't so important. But I really do have to go. I'll come visit."

"We're staying in a house loaned to us by the Don, so we'll be in the same city," my sister says excitedly.

"You will?" My family lives in Naples, the heart of the region controlled by the Camorra . I'd hoped they would return home after the engagement party. Not because I don't like them… Okay, that's not the complete truth, either. I do love my mother, but having her too close, for too long, is like being circled by birds of prey who are just waiting for a chance to attack.

"Diego thinks the wedding should take place sooner than later," my sister adds.

Of course he does. Marriages of this nature take place very quickly after the engagement. It's partially to make sure the brides and grooms don't change their minds, but also because the heads of the clans want to proceed with the business transactions that often accompany such arrangements.

"Wh-when do you think it'll take place?" I force myself to ask.

"In a few weeks." My brother rises to his feet. "I'll see you out."

I wave him off. "Relax, stay back. I know you're dying for a chance to speak to the Cosa Nostra ." I jerk my chin in the direction of the Sovranos, and the man who I know, even now, is watching me from under hooded eyes. "No doubt, you have business negotiations to finalize as a result of this arranged marriage."

The guilty look in Diego's eyes confirms my words.

I bend and kiss my mother's cheek. "I love you, Mamma." And I really do. Despite the fact that she's never understood me, she's still my flesh and blood, and I believe her when she says she has my best interests at heart.

I blow a kiss at my cousin, touch my aunt's shoulder in farewell. Then I push back my chair and walk out of there—past the Sovrano table, past the man who has his head turned away from me, but who I know is tracking my every move—out of the conservatory, down the hallway, out the front door, then down the steps, and toward my car as fast as my shaky legs will carry me.

Footsteps sound on the stairs behind me, then, "Olivia!"

Damn, and I almost made it, too. I pause, then fix a smile on my face and turn to face one of my best friends. "Jeanne."

I hold out a hand, but Jeanne ignores it and throws her arms around me instead. "You look good Olivia," she murmurs.

"You mean, despite the scar on my cheek?"

She leans back in the circle of my arms and scowls at me. "Don't put yourself down, you know better than that."

Color flushes my cheeks, and I glance away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"It's all right. I know how rough things must have been for you. Where have you been, woman? You moved out of the apartment without informing Penny, and you haven't returned any of our calls, either. Do you know how worried we've been about you?"

My guts twist. Shit, shit, shit. Of course, they've been worried about me. They're my best friends.

"I'm sorry, Jeanne. It's just... You know, there was so much happening. It was all too much. It's not every day one is shot at on stage and ends up getting scarred, you know?"

"Oh, Olivia, I wish you'd given me and Penny a chance to be there for you. We'd have done anything to share your pain, babe."

The band around my chest tightens. Tears press down at the backs of my eyes and I blink them away. "I'm a bad friend. I shouldn't have left the way I did, I know. I'm so sorry, Jeanne."

"No more keeping secrets from us now Olivia, okay?"

I nod.

"And that includes whatever is going on between you and Massimo."

"There's nothing between me and?—"

She shakes her head. "I know he proposed to you and you turned him down," she interjects.

My gaze widens. "How do you—your husband... Luca told you?"

Jeanne nods. I glance away, then back at her. "There's nothing more to tell you. I told him I wasn't going to marry him, and now, he's engaged to my sister." My chin wobbles, belying my protest.

"Oh, Olivia, honey..." Jeanne takes a step in my direction, but I put up a hand. "I really have to go, Jeanne." I swallow down my tears. "I promise, I'll call you."

The door at the top of the steps opens. I glance up just as Massimo steps out. My heart slams into my ribcage. My guts churn. I turn to my friend. "I'm sorry, Jeanne. I really have to go."

Tearing off my heels, I race past the other cars and reach my own. Luckily for me, I'm in a good position to get out of there quickly, since I arrived last. As I open the door, I hear Massimo calling my name. I ignore him as I get into my car, slam the door, and peel out.