Chapter five: The Monster Comes to Dinner

Fiona’s POV

By nine in the morning, our house had completely lost its mind.

My mother had rejected three different table arrangements because one was too formal, another wasn’t formal enough, and the third apparently made the dining room look like a funeral.

Nobody pointed out that inviting a mafia Don to inspect the daughter he’d demanded as payment already felt enough like a funeral. But I guess we were all ignoring that.

“White roses, Teresa? Really? I expected better.”

“Mrs. Romano, I thought—”

“White roses are for funerals!”

I looked up from the staircase. “Mamma, they’re also for weddings.”

Mother turned toward me. “That isn’t helping, Fiona.”

“Sorry. Although red symbolizes blood, so perhaps—”

“Go upstairs!”

I looked down at my shorts and oversized shirt. “Why? I’m technically wearing clothes.”

“Luca Ricci will be here in four hours, and you look like you just woke up.”

“I woke up twenty minutes ago, actually.”

She pointed upstairs, and I reluctantly obeyed.

Apparently, when a man demanded your daughter in exchange for military protection, proper etiquette required feeding him afterward. Perhaps we’d serve dessert while discussing how many children he expected me to produce.

My guess was seven.

“Well, well, well.”

I looked up to find Viviana leaning against the railing, holding a cup of coffee like she’d returned specifically to watch my life fall apart.

“You’re alive,” she announced.

“Disappointed?”

“Actually, I expected Mamma to have strangled Papa overnight. Shame she didn’t.”

I rolled my eyes and continued toward my bedroom, but she followed.

“So, you’re marrying Luca Ricci.”

“Viviana, please.”

“The Luca Ricci. Have you seen him? Because, honestly, Fi, at least the man is ridiculously attractive.”

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. She caught it, laughing.

“I didn’t realize cheekbones made forced marriage romantic.”

“Just less tragic, would you rather Papa gave you to some sixty-year-old with three dead wives and gout?”

I stared at her. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Perspective, darling.”

“Get out.”

Instead, she sat on my bed. “Come on, Fiona. You could do worse.”

Something inside me snapped.

“That’s not the point, Viviana! You got to leave. You have apartments, boyfriends, and trips nobody approves of. You disappear whenever Papa annoys you, but I’m supposed to be grateful because the stranger he’s handing me over to happens to be handsome?”

Her smile disappeared. “Fi, I didn’t mean—”

“That doesn’t mean I should have to marry him at all!”

My voice cracked, and I immediately turned away. I hated that I was about to cry, especially in front of someone who had always seemed to have more freedom than me.

Unfortunately, Mother chose that moment to enter.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” I muttered.

Viviana sighed. “I made a joke. I said she could do worse.”

Mother stared at her but she kept on going. “I was trying to help.”

“Then give her some space.”

Viviana hesitated before approaching me. “Fi, I’m sorry. I really am.”

She squeezed my shoulder and left.

For a moment, Mother said nothing. Then she sat beside me.

“You can say it,” I muttered. “Everyone thinks I’m lucky apparently , Luca Ricci is a visionary hotelier and a philanthropist.”

Mother actually laughed.

I turned toward her. “You find that funny?”

“I’ve met Luca Ricci, sweetheart, the internet should stick to reviewing his hotels.”

That wasn’t particularly comforting.

“What’s he like?”

Mother considered her answer. “Dangerous, intelligent, and accustomed to getting whatever he wants. But I’ve never heard of him mistreating a woman.”

“Your standards are inspiring.”

“Fiona!”

“What? I’m supposed to applaud because my future husband doesn’t go around hitting women?”

She sighed and took my hands.

“I’m not asking you to love him. Your father made an agreement because he’s afraid, and Luca demanded this marriage for reasons I don’t understand. But none of that changes who you are.”

I looked at her.

“Marriage doesn’t mean he owns you, Fiona. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

“Someone should tell him that.”

“You can.”

I snorted, but she wasn’t smiling.

“You are still my daughter. You don’t become smaller because his surname replaces yours.”

“I’ll always be a Romano.”

Mother laughed and kissed my forehead. “There’s my girl. Now, let’s find you something appropriate.”

“I thought we just established that I should remain myself.”

“You can remain yourself in a better dress.”

She opened my closet and immediately rejected my racks of dresses, she eventually selected an emerald-green dress with a fitted waist and a flowing skirt. It was elegant without being excessive, and unfortunately, the color made my eyes look beautiful.

***

Three hours later, the house looked ready to receive royalty.

Father had stationed additional guards around the property, the dining room had been transformed, and apparently Luca was bringing three men inside.

I stood before my mirror while Mother fastened a bracelet around my wrist. My platinum-blonde hair fell in loose waves down my back, and I’d refused the elaborate hairstyle the hairdresser suggested.

If Luca didn’t like my appearance, he could marry someone else.

Actually, that wasn’t a terrible idea.

“Do you think if I’m unpleasant enough, he’ll change his mind?”

“No, sweetheart.”

Mother gave me a warning look before stepping back to admire the dress. “You look beautiful.”

“Unfortunately, that seems to be the problem.”

She shook her head. “Your appearance has nothing to do with why your father agreed to this.”

“Then why did Luca ask for me specifically?”

Mother’s expression changed.

I’d spent most of last night thinking about that question. Father had two daughters. Viviana was older, more experienced, and perfectly capable of handling mafia politics.

So why me?

“Papa must have asked him,” I continued.

“He did.”

“And?”

Mother hesitated. “He said you were the one he wanted.”

I stared at her. “That’s it? No explanation?”

“That’s what your father told me.”

Wonderful. A complete stranger had selected me like a dress in a shop window, and everyone expected me to be grateful because he was wealthy enough to purchase the entire shop.

“I don’t like that answer.”

“Neither do I.”

Before I could ask anything else, the bedroom door opened, and Viviana hurried inside. Her earlier amusement was gone.

“Fi.”

I glanced at her through the mirror. “If you’ve come to tell me he’s handsome again, I’m throwing something heavier this time.”

She didn’t smile.

“He’s here.”

My stomach dropped. “Who?”

“Who do you think? Luca Ricci’s cars just entered the gates.”

Mother immediately reached for her phone while I stood frozen in front of the mirror.

I’d spent hours preparing to meet this man. I’d rehearsed insults, imagined arguments, and promised myself I wouldn’t let him intimidate me.

But suddenly, none of those things seemed particularly useful because I was finally going to meet the monster.