Freedom and Escape

The next day was the actual fitting and I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through the whole process but I had no choice.

Lucia Vitale was nothing if not meticulous about her children’s lives. And that was why she was my favorite parent. 

Three seamstresses fluttered around me, adjusting the pristine white gown that felt more like a straitjacket than a dress. 

I could feel the boning of the corset pressing against my ribs with every shallow breath I managed to take.

"Just a bit tighter, Miss Arya," one of the older seamstresses said, her fingers working the laces with determined efficiency.

My vision swam slightly as the fabric constricted further around my torso. "If you make it any tighter," I gasped, my voice strained and breathless, "I'll pass out before I can say my vows."

The ladies chuckled, but my mother looked up from where she sat reviewing fabric swatches, 

"Arya, don't say such things. You'll jinx the wedding!”

"I'm not joking, Mother," I managed to say and I gripped the back of the nearby chair for support.

From across the room, my younger sister Christabel looked up from the fashion magazine she'd been pretending to read. 

Christabel's eyes were bright with mischief as she appraised me. "You know what, Arya? White really is your color, you look like a proper princess."

Despite my discomfort, I managed a wry smile. I caught Christabel's eye and leaned forward as much as the corset would allow, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Run, Christabel. Run now before they can rope you into an arranged marriage too."

"Arya!" My mother’s voice reprimanded, her brows furrowing.

“Sure, mum.” I said, waiting until my mother looked back down at her papers, then mouthed dramatically to Christabel.

‘Run. While you still can.’

Christabel dissolved into giggles, quickly covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound. The pure, amusement in my sister's eyes made the torture of the fitting almost worthwhile. 

The next hour passed in a flurry of activity that made my head spin, or perhaps that was still the corset. We decided on the dress, though I felt I’d had little actual say in the matter. 

Mom had moved on to speaking with the florist about arrangements, her voice animated as she discussed peonies versus roses. 

I had been allowed to change back into my regular clothes, and the relief of being able to breathe properly again was almost intoxicating.

I was adjusting my blouse when Christabel walked up to me, that same impish grin on her face. "So, want to go shopping one last time before you become a married woman?" 

The question was teasing, but I could hear the genuine sadness underneath it. We both knew things would change after the wedding.

I raised an eyebrow, matching my sister's energy. "One last time? Please. I'll have you know that marriage won't stop me from dragging you through every boutique in the city."

Christabel opened her mouth to respond, probably with some clever retort, but a sharp knock at the door interrupted us. 

One of the maids hurried to answer it, disappearing into the hallway before returning moments later, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Miss Arya, it's Mr. Darmos here to see you."

My eyes lit up, and I stuck my tongue out at Christabel with childish glee. "See? Someone who will actually miss me." I was already moving toward the door. "Sorry, Bella, but I'm going to spend time with people who appreciate me!"

"Arya, remember we still have wine tasting to do!" Mom called after me.

"I'll be back in a minute!” I sang back, and then I was out the door.

Marco stood in the hallway, leaning casually against the wall. He greeted me with a wave and that familiar crooked smile.

I didn't hesitate. I threw my arms around him in a fierce hug, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. "You took your sweet time getting here, Darmos."

Marco chuckled, returning the embrace before gently extricating himself. "Work held me up. You know how it is."

I pulled back and pouted, "I know exactly how it is. Ever since you started working for the mafia, we barely see each other anymore.”

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Marco said, his voice softening. He glanced around to make sure they were alone, then leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've got something planned."

My pout vanished immediately, replaced by eager curiosity. "What? What is it?"

Marco's smile widened, becoming almost conspiratorial. "Since you won't be having a bachelorette party-" he paused for dramatic effect, “…what do you say to one night of fun?”

My hand shot out to pat his shoulder, my grin matching his own. "This is why you're my best friend, Marco Darmos."

The plan was simple.

We would bid our time until evening, attending dinner and pretending to be normal, then when darkness fell, I would slip out through my bedroom window. Marco would be waiting below with the car, engine running, ready for our escape.

As Marco explained the details, I felt a thrill of excitement mixed with nervousness flutter in my chest.

I should have been scared because if we got caught, there would be hell to pay. But we’d done this a hundred times before, maybe more. The window escape was an old routine.

When evening finally came, I waited in my room, watching the clock like a prisoner counting down to freedom. 

At exactly ten-thirty, I eased open my window, the cool night air rushing in to greet me. The climb down was easy and my feet hit the ground with barely a sound, and then I was running toward Marco’s car.

I slipped into the passenger seat, both of us immediately dissolving into laughter.

"Still as sleek as ever," Marco said, starting the engine.

I winked at him, buckling my seatbelt. "Drive before they catch us, Darmos."

We drove through the city streets with the windows down, singing along to their favorite song.

I threw my head back, letting the wind whip through my hair, feeling more alive than I had in days.

When we finally pulled up to their destination, my heart was racing with anticipation. I looked at the building before us, then at Marco.

"You ready?" Marco asked

"Yes," I breathed. "Let's do this."

I stared at the club and grinned with excitement. It was just one night of freedom, what could possibly go wrong?