Loneliness

She dressed me in a pale yellow floral dress, pinned my hair into a painfully tight bun, and reminded me to smile, But smiling was the last thing I wanted to do.

She held my hand as we stepped downstairs.

“They’re already here,” my dad said, giving us the look to hurry up. We all made our way outside.

Enrico Giordano arrived in a fleet of black. A sleek limo followed by six matching exotic cars.

Then the door opened… and I forgot how to breathe.

He stepped out, towering at 6'4", broad-shouldered and built like a god. His dark curly hair was dusted with a few silver strands at the temples, and his perfectly tailored coat hugged his form like it was made just for him. His green eyes—sharp, unreadable—met mine, and I felt like a deer caught in headlights.

He walked like a man who owned the world.

And maybe he did.

He walked toward us, and my heart raced like crazy.

“You must be Sofia,” he said, his voice low, deep, and rich.

“Delighted to meet you, sir,” I said politely, bowing just as my mother had rehearsed with me.

His eyes scanned my face, then slowly trailed to my chest. He lingered on my cleavage before turning to my father.

I blushed furiously, feeling like a teenage girl just kissed by her crush. Except this wasn’t a crush.

This was an arranged fate.

And even as I stood there, hating every second of it… I couldn’t deny the jolt that ran through me when his gaze met mine again.

God help me, part of me wanted to know what it felt like to be wanted by a man like him.

“So… let’s go inside. The food is getting cold,” my mum quickly said.

My dad led the way to the dining table, and Enrico followed. Mum and I trailed behind.

We sat at a four-seater table. The table was set with rich Chicago delicacies— deepdish pizza bites, baked potato soup, Italian beef, artisan cheese platter, and cheesecake.

Maids stepped in and poured a Napa Valley red wine into each glass. Every meal was served elegantly.

My father was practically buzzing with excitement, talking endlessly about business while Enrico sat mostly in silence, nodding occasionally.

His gaze, however, kept finding me. Hard. Intense.

I caught him watching me too many times—and I, shamefully, kept stealing glances at him.

It was the most uncomfortable dinner I had ever had.

“We’ll talk about that later,” he said to my dad, picking up a serviette and wiping his mouth. Then he stared at me again.

Finally, he stood to leave. I sighed in relief.

Until my father leaned toward me and whispered, “Ask him to take a walk with you in the garden. Get to know him."

Seriously!?

I nearly choked, but he nudged me forward.

I dragged myself toward the mafia boss, heart pounding. “Sir, would you take a walk with me… in the gardens?” I stammered.

He turned his gaze on me, and I hiccuped under the weight of it. Then, with a nod, he agreed.

“This way, please,” I said, summoning the courage as we made our way to the garden.

It was beautiful—filled with different flowers.

I tried to bring up a topic, but I was too confused and scared to say anything.

We walked in my mother’s beloved garden in silence, stopping near the fountain.

The moonlight made everything look dreamy—too dreamy for what was really happening.

“I’m sure you’ve been informed that we’re to be married this weekend,” he said bluntly, breaking the awkward silence.

“Yes.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

Another silence. Cold. Thick.

“Do you have anything you wish to say?” he asked, sounding more annoyed than curious.

I wanted to scream. Instead, I just shook my head, fighting back tears.

“Very well. We should return to the house.” And with that, he walked away.

I stayed behind and crumbled in tears.

The stone edge of the fountain dug into my knees as I sank to the ground, i was so scared and alone in my emotions.

I pressed my hands over my mouth, afraid someone might hear the sobs tearing through me.

Was this how it would be—cold conversations, empty silences, and a lifetime of pretending not to be afraid?

I looked up at the moon and made a silent wish.

If anyone is listening… please… get me out of this.

“I can’t continue like this, I need to set everything straight” I said as I made my way back to the house.

He had already left. I noticed my mum staring at me with confusion, but I didn’t want to waste time explaining anything.

I entered my room and locked the door.

I stripped myself naked, leaving only my pants on.

I lay down, struggling to fall asleep.

I tossed. I turned. I cried.

I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare with no escape.

I quickly picked up my phone and called the only person who might keep me sane—Nora. My best friend.

She picked up immediately, like she’d been waiting for my call all along.

“So… on a scale of 1 to Henry Cavill, how good-looking is he?” she asked.

I groaned. “Nora, focus! You said you did a deep dive on him. Tell me what you found.”

“Okay, okay. Here’s the tea.”

She paused dramatically. My heart pounded.

“Enrico was born in London. His father was Don Giordano—the original mafia king. His mother was Lady Anne Elliot, British nobility. She died when he was six. That same year, his father moved him to Chicago. He has two younger siblings. And get this—he’s been married twice already.”

“Twice?!” I gasped.

“Yep. First wife? Fiona De Luca. A one-time Miss Italy.”

He was married to a beauty queen?

How the hell was I supposed to compete with that!?

“She died during childbirth.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh my God…”

“But that’s not the real tea.” Nora’s voice turned serious.

“Is it good or bad?”

“Very bad.”

My pulse skyrocketed. “Nora, tell me now. Please.”

What she said next shook me to the core.