Like Grief

"Are you ready, Ginevra?"

I closed the door to my room, then slowly walked down the stairs. "Yes, dad."

My dad was standing right below the stairs. He was wearing a tailored suit, his hair slicked back, a gold watch resting on his left hand.

He turned back to me, and for a moment, he simply took me in. I could see his eyes go from happiness to a dawning realization of what I had done to the dress Leone had gotten me, and then, finally, horror.

"My dear Ginevra," he started, and I knew that tone. I knew exactly what he was trying to ask. "Tell me you have a shorter version of the dress Leone got you for the wedding."

"I do not," I said, my voice low. "I just happened to make one earlier."

"Ginevra!"

"What?" I asked, taking a step forward. "You took away my right to choose who I marry. Are you going to take away my right to choose what I wear too?"

His eyes were wide, filled with anger, but I knew my father. He was calculative and cunning, and he knew that if he pushed any more buttons than they already have, I would back out of this dinner, and Don Luciano would likely back out of the alliance, too.

"Wear a shawl."

"No," I answered simply, the walked in front of him.

I could almost hear him seething behind me, but he wordlessly followed behind me to the parked car in front of the mansion.

The car ride was silent and charged with tension, and dad seemed to draw longer puffs of smoke to calm himself down.

It was a forty minute ride before we took the last turn to the exclusive street where the Brave Hearts mansion stood.

It stood tall and alone in the entire street, surrounded by tall trees and flowers.

I held my breath as we passed the first gate, then drove through a long jarred road that was bordered on both sides by lights and trees.

It was majestic in a way that even our mansion seemed to pale in comparison.

We finally reached the second gate, and it opened slowly, admitting us into the main compound. Lights flooded the entire palace, and the massive fountain stood in the middle of the compound, adding a modern allure to the building.

The car came to a slow stop, and the driver went out and opened my door before walking around to open dad's door.

I grabbed my purse and started to move out when dad suddenly held my hand. I turned, my brow rising.

"Please, behave, Ginevra. I beg of you."

I bit down on my lower lip, and without a word to him, I got out of the car. He promptly followed, and we walked side by side to the main entrance.

A man was waiting outside, and once he saw us, he gave a smile and a small, respectful bow. "Don Luciano has been expecting you. Please come in."

We followed behind him into the massive space. The floors were made or black mahogany that matched the stairs case, and everything was either a stainless white or a pitch black. No in between.

He led us straight to the dining hall, then opened the doors and stepped aside, ushering us in.

I turned to the now open dining hall, and to my surprise, there was no one in there.

"Where is Don Luciano?" I asked, turning to the man who had brought us in.

"Oh, Don Luciano is around."

I swallowed, turning to dad for a second before I stepped into the dining hall.

"Not here, sir. Don Luciano is waiting for you."

I turned, just in time to catch my father's confused expression and the man ushering him away from the dining room.

"But..." I started to say, but my father raised a hand.

"Sure."

He turned to me, and without a word, followed the man, who made sure to close the doors before leaving.

I turned back to the large feast in front of me, my heart beating wildly in my chest. Who was I going to see? Don Luciano or Leone?

I am not too sure of how prepared I am to meet any of them, but it didn't seem like I had much of a choice right now.

I took a seat on the right side of the dining table, my heart pounding as I looked up to the door. I pulled out my phone, then tried to call dad. There was no answer.

My anxiety was skyrocketing by now, and my fists clenched hard.

Did something happen? What if Don Luciano already found out? What if the stunt Leone pulled with Andrew earlier was a prelude to this dinner? What if this was all a trap?

I called dad again, and still, no answer. He wasn't even rejecting it. Just not picking at all.

"Fuck," I cursed under my breath, then stood up, grabbing my purse.

I covered the distance to the door and turned the knob, pushing it back with all my might. It was surprisingly unlocked, and the door opened, causing to move forward due to how hard I had pushed it.

I struggled to maintain balance, but my head hit a hard, broad chest, my breath faltering as I felt a hand wrap around my waist.

My world seemed to go silent for a second, and I slowly looked up, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

Leone was looking down at me, his eyes cold, his hair falling down his forehead in pretty, careless waves.

He raised a brow, his gaze hooded by his lashes. "Going somewhere?"

I immediately pushed myself away from him, my chest heaving. "I was supposed to have dinner with Don Luciano."

"I see," he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world, before starting to brush past me into the dining room.

"Where is Don Luciano?"

He stopped and turned to me, and I hated everything about how relaxed he looked. How comfortable, how perfectly in place he seemed to be, despite suffocating me with his mere gaze.

He said nothing for a long while, his eyes taking me in. I felt my breath stop as his eyes dropped below mine, then down my body.

Darkness seemed to spread all the way down his eyes, before he broke into a small, dark smile.

"I see you've put your wedding dress to use."

I turned to him fully, and behind me, the door suddenly closed, and I heard the unmistakeable sound of the lock. Fuck.

"I did," I managed to say, my fingers clenching hard. "It didn't look very much like a dress I would wear to marry you."

He shrugged. "I am very interested in knowing what a wedding dress to marry me would look like."

"Like grief. Mourning."

He smiled again, and I knew there was so much beneath that smile. Much more than I would ever be able to make sense of.

He grabbed a seat, his eyes looking up to mine for a brief second, before he turned away to the table.

Silence fell between us for a long minute, and I could feel it weighing on me. The suspense,the anxiety, the things we both weren't saying.

"Don't you have anything to say?" I asked again, my voice low, my heart picking up pace.

He looked up, his eyes taking me in once again. "It looks better short," he said simply, then turned away.