CHAPTER THREE

The guests had left by the time I left the sitting room; I could still hear the faint echo of their cars pulling away outside. I walked down the hallway past the family portraits, feeling lost. I did not know where I was going.

My father's words echoed in my head…”I will bring you home in handcuffs. "Each step I take makes them louder instead of fading away," and he meant it. I saw it in his eyes, that cold, hard look I had never seen before.

I climbed the stairs, my hand sliding on the wooden railing. The house was quiet like it was holding its breath, waiting for me to break.

At the top of the stairs, I stopped.

Elena's door was closed, but a sliver of light was shining under the dark floor.

My sister…

The one who started this, the one who looked at Damiano De Luca and said no and then looked at me and said, "Here, you can take him."

I should have been angry; I was angry. But anger was not what I felt right now.

I felt desperate.

I knocked. Soft at first, then harder.

"Elena."

"I know you're in there. Please.”

The door opened slightly and a brown eye peeked through.

"Gabi." Her voice was small. "It's late."

"Let me in."

She hesitated, then she sighed and opened the door.

Her room was how I remembered it: canvases against the walls, paint stains on the carpet, sketches above her bed. She wore strawberry pajamas. She looked young, too young to be engaged, too young to ruin lives.

But not too young to ruin mine.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. She would not look at me, her hands twisted in her lap.

"You know what's wrong."

She swallowed hard…"Mom and Dad told you."

"They told me everything." I stayed standing because if I sat down, I might not get back up. "About the company, about Damiano, about how you offered me up like a sacrifice so you could have your own life."

Elena flinched. Her lip trembled.

"It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?" My voice broke. "Explain it to me, Elena. Make me understand why my little sister sold me to a man I have never met."

She finally looked at me; her eyes were wet.

"I didn't sell you."

"You told them to give me to him instead of you."

"I said maybe. "She stood up, grabbing my hands. "I said maybe Gabi could do it. She is older and stronger. She does not have…" She stopped.

"Does not have what?"

Her mouth closed.

"Does not have what, Elena?"

"Dreams." The word came out like a whisper. "You do not have dreams, Gabi. Art school, a gallery. You never wanted any of those things."

I pulled my hands away.

"So because I do not want to be an artist, I deserve to be married off to a stranger?"

"No." She shook her head, crying now. "That is not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

She wiped her face. "I meant that you are practical. You handled things; when Mom was sick, you took care of everything, and when Dad lost that big deal, you stayed calm. You are good at surviving, Gabi. I am not."

I stared at her.

She really believed it. She had convinced herself she was helping me.

"That is not love," I said quietly. "That is using someone."

"It's not…"

"You volunteered me; you walked into Mom and Dad's room and pointed at me. You did not ask if I was ok with it… I found out by accident, standing in a hallway like a servant."

She started crying harder…loud sobs.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

I wanted to hate her…God, I wanted to hate her.

But she was my little sister. The one who crawled into my bed during thunderstorms and painted our dog after he died, even though it looked like a potato with legs.

"Elena." I sat next to her. "Look at me."

She looked.

"Help me."

Her crying slowed. "What?"

"Help me." I grabbed her hands. "Tell Mom and Dad you changed your mind; tell them you will marry Damiano. Please…I cannot marry a man who thinks he is getting married to you."

She pulled her hands away.

"I can't."

"You can."

"No," she said. She stood up and moved back toward her window. "I can't marry him; I don't love him. His hands are always cold and he talks about money as if nothing else matters.”

"So I have to marry him instead?"

"It's just a marriage." She said it like it was a business deal. "You do not have to love him. Just live in his house and wear his ring and…"

"And sleep in his bed?"

She went quiet.

"Yeah," I whispered. "That is what I thought."

Elena looked at the floor, and when she looked up again, her face was harder.

"Maybe it will not be so bad."

"Maybe?"

"Damiano is rich, handsome, even..."

I stood up. "I cannot believe you."

"It's done, Gabi." She crossed her arms. "The contracts are signed. The date is set and there is nothing we can do."

"There is always something you…"

"Not this time." She opened her door. "Get some sleep; tomorrow will be a long day."

I walked to the door but stopped in the frame. I looked at her, the sister I grew up with, the one I protected.

"You are really going to let them do this to me?"

Her eyes met mine.

"It's already done."

I walked out.

Behind me, the door clicked shut, then the lock turned.

I pressed my forehead against the wood.

"Please, Elena."

"I am begging you…Help me."

I stepped back, turned around, and started walking toward my room.

Then I heard her voice, so soft I almost missed it.

"Don't worry, Gabi."

I froze, my heart pounding.