Chapter Four

I wake up with the sun in my eyes.

If anything, it exacerbates my headache. I flip over to my stomach and cover my face with my pillow to block it out. I don't have the energy to stand up and close the curtains.

Last night's events race through my mind, and the force of my disgust is enough to make me sit up and get out of bed. I draw the curtains before entering the bathroom. I take a long warm shower, but it does nothing to soothe me. I'm still thinking about Luca Ferrante and the bottle of champagne with an anger that is unknown to me. I've never felt this angry before. I'm shocked by his impertinence.

But there's something else deep down that I can't identify, and this unidentified emotion is adding another layer of depth to this poisonous cocktail of emotions inside me.

Could it be fear?

I don't answer the question as I close the taps and get out of the shower. Once I'm in my room, I take two ibuprofen and get dressed. It's past eleven o'clock, which means I've missed breakfast. Good. I didn't want to sit beside mom and hear her make plans for the future, a future where she is the mother-in-law of Luca Ferrante. Just thinking of his name makes me sick to my stomach. I don't know why his gesture hit me so hard, but it has. Maybe when my head is clearer, I'll be able to explain to myself why I'm so furious.

My hair is dried and I've simply pinned it to the back of my head with a claw. I get dressed in beige pants and a light white blouse paired with my favorite sandals and make my way downstairs. I can smell seafood in the kitchen, and it makes my mouth water. I greet Constance warmly and ask her if there are any leftovers from breakfast.

"No," she answers. "But I can make you something else."

"I'll just have some plain yogurt and granola," I tell her. I offer to make it myself, but she refuses. Constance has been working for our family for years. I was seven when she was employed. There's enough intimacy between us that I can ask her what she thinks of the Ferrante family, and that's what I do.

"They're proud," she answers after a moment's pause. "But I can't say that they're particularly unpleasant. Luca is a handsome man, wouldn't you say? Not too bad for an arranged marriage."

"Don't say that," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. The painkillers haven't kicked in yet.

She laughs heartily. "Well, you never know what will happen. He might marry Mary instead. She's demure, and a proper lady. He'll only choose you if he's willingly looking for trouble. So, I think you're safe."

I gasp. It's a genuine, horrified gasp. "You think I'm trouble? What does it even mean to be a proper lady? What's proper? I'm not a lady?"

She slides the bowl toward me and raises a hand. She looks amused. "Forget I said anything."

I narrow my eyes at the back of her head before grabbing the bowl and heading toward the dining room. "You sound like mom!"

Constance ignores me.

I'm glad to see that the table is back where it's supposed to be. I sit in my usual place and finish my breakfast. The house is quiet, but there's nothing unusual about this. Dad works all day, mom is always out of the house doing something, and Mary, well, she's mostly to herself. She likes to read and study, and since she's almost graduating, she's been busier than usual. It took her two years to figure out what she wanted to do, but she's truly passionate about what she's doing now. I don't envy her, but I do wish that I could find something that I wouldn't mind spending my time on. I do understand that I can't spend the rest of my life in my parent's house, not because I think it's inappropriate, but because staying here means living under the same roof as my mother, and that's not something I want.

Mary warned me about this. She told me to pick something or I would regret it in the long run. I haven't started regretting it yet, but it sure would be great to be graduating this year. Mary hopes to become financially independent so she won't have to depend on mom and dad for money. Well, that was before this whole marriage thing came about. If she marries Luca Ferrante, she won't even need her degree, but that thought makes me wonder. How do we know if the rumors are true? Maybe they are as 'broke' as we are. Some things are simply too good to be true. This has to be one of those things.

Thinking about Mary makes me want to see her, so I decide to do just that. I make my way upstairs after dropping my empty bowl in the kitchen and knock on her door.

"It's me," I say.

"Come on in."

She's sprawled on her bed with books all around her. Her glasses are mounted high on her head. She smiles at me warmly and pats an empty spot on her bed for me to sit down.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, searching my face. "I heard when you came home last night. It was pretty late, wasn't it?"

I blush. "Yeah."

"Did you have fun?"

I nod again. "I did."

"Is mom downstairs?"

"No, I think she went out. She's probably celebrating with Yvette and the others. I bet she's so proud of herself after yesterday."

Mary nods. Color creeps into her cheeks. It's not the first time that I notice that she blushes whenever the Ferrantes are mentioned. Well, the last time, they weren't mentioned. She was looking at Luca with a red face. I have to get to the bottom of this. I have to know what she thinks. Before, we were in the same boat. We were both appalled by the idea.

Somehow, I don't think that that's the case now.

"How do you feel about all of this?" I ask carefully while watching her intently. "You know, after we met them and all."

The red deepens. "I don't think they're so bad."

I wait for her to say something else, but she doesn't. She's acting like she's engrossed in the passage in front of her, but her eyes are out of focus. I ask, "Is that all you have to say?"

She looks up at me. "I don't understand what else there is to say, Laura. What do you think about them?"

"I think they're disgustingly proud," I state. My voice is too loud, so I attempt to calm myself down. "I guess that, in many ways, that is exactly what I was expecting."

She frowns. "That's unfair."

"Is it?" I ask angrily. "You saw how they acted when I mentioned that I wasn't in school. Why would that matter so much to anyone else? What pissed me off is that a degree isn't important where we're from. Why study when we're fucking killing and committing crimes for money?"

"Calm down," she says gently.

I stand up and pace the bedroom. I'm far from calm now. She says to me, "Laura, it's either we find them agreeable or we cry about it for the rest of our lives. That man might still choose one of us."

I turn to her sharply. I'm glad we're touching on the subject. "And what about him? What did you think of him?"

Mary blushes again, and I know what she'll say before she utters a word. "He's alright," she replies, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I mean, he was nothing like I imagined. We imagined, I mean."

"How so?" I ask. I don't know why I want to know so badly. I just do.

She shrugs. "Well, he's well-mannered and calm. He has a kind look in his eyes. I mean, it feels like everything we heard about him was a lie. You remember how horrified we were when we overheard dad telling mom that he's killed countless people."

I gulp. I had forgotten that momentarily. I lower my head. I can't say that I disagree with her. I felt the same thing over lunch, but after last night, something changed a little. "Yeah."

"And he's handsome," she says, stretching her legs. "That's a bonus, isn't it?"

I look at Mary and don't answer her. What happened last night is on the tip of my tongue. I wonder what she'll think of his behavior then. Will she find it perfectly normal? Will she knock some sense into me? Still, I can't do it.  I can't say it.

"Oh, Laura," she says, rising from her bed. She walks toward me and grabs my shoulders gently. "It's going to be alright."

"I know," I say, although I don't.

"Mom says that she thinks he'll choose me," she says confidently. "You know, since I'm the oldest and all." And is about to get a degree. She doesn't have to mention it. I know. "That is if he chooses us at all. So, don't worry. You're perfectly safe. It'll be my burden to carry."

I look into her eyes and wish to tell her that I don't want her to carry such a burden, but the expression on her face stops me. She doesn't look like she'll be carrying any burden. She's quite content about all of this.

Mary wants to marry Luca Ferrante.

For some reason, this makes me sadder than everything else that has happened so far.