It's been a slow day, and I haven't been this irritated in a while.
My conversation with Mary has ruined my mood entirely. I should be relieved that she's genuinely excited about this but something about this whole affair reeks to me. I have a bad feeling about all of this and I can't explain why. I just do.Mary and I didn't speak for the remainder of the day. It's not that I'm upset about her answer—I should actually be relieved about this. It's that I know that her words are a projection of our mother, and so she might not be genuine about this. It's no secret that mom wants her to marry that guy, and what Mary is doing is bringing mom's wish to life with her acceptance. It's sad and there's nothing that I can do about it.It just is.I wanted to leave earlier to have lunch with Victoria and Brett, but Constance told me that mom wanted us all together when she arrived, and so this ruined my plans. I'm beyond irritated at this point, and it feels like the world is conspiring against me. This will be the most I've interacted with mom in weeks. Maybe months. On normal days, we barely talk. There's not a single conversation we have had that didn't end in an argument. We simply don't get along. I'm against everything she says, and she thinks I'm unreasonable because I don't accept her words the way Mary does.This whole affair with the Ferrantes is grating on my nerves. I hate that we have to pose like the perfect family when the truth is far from that. Dad and I are close; we barely talk because he's usually busy, but we never fight about anything. We're almost always on the same page, but when we aren't, it's never a big deal, not the way it is with mom. Not agreeing with her is taken as a direct affront, so being around her is like walking on eggshells. Mary agrees with her so she doesn't catch the heat. I don't care. She's taken much from me over the years and especially during my childhood, and I won't allow her to take any more parts of me.If we never get along, that's fine by me. I've been doing just fine without her, anyway.I hang around in my room for her to arrive, but she's taking her time. This is what she does. I don't know why dad doesn't have to be around for her speech, so I'm guessing that he already knows what all of this is about. That, or she'll inform him last minute. Dad won't have a choice but to agree to whatever she has to say, even if it inconveniences him. I've noticed that even dad avoids conflicts with her.Lunch rolls around, and she's still not back. I'm beginning to worry. I don't know what she'll have to say, and I only hope that it won't be anything involving the Ferrantes. I don't know when we're supposed to meet again, but I'm hoping it won't be anytime soon. I haven't recovered from the bottle of champagne that Luca sent to me last night, and I wouldn't trust myself around him if I saw him. I'm not confrontational, but there are certain things that I can't allow. This is one of them. He can't follow me around and send me gifts. He's sending the wrong message and if he wasn't aware of that, I'll make him aware. It's an invasion of privacy.I'm not his wife, and I'll never be. And even if I were, I still wouldn't allow him to follow me around. Who does he think he is?Of course, this could all be a big coincidence. Maybe he was at the club and he saw me. Maybe he was trying to be nice. But if he wanted to be nice, he would show his face. He would greet me like any normal person. No, this was something else. He sent a message. He wanted me to know that he was watching me. That he knew the places I frequented. The fact that he watched me when I was feeling at my best and feeling absolutely free makes me shudder.A knock on my door interrupts my train of thought. I sit up straighter even though I don't have to and say: "Come on in."Constance peers into my bedroom through the crack in the door and says, "Your mother is downstairs."I stand up quickly and ask, "What the hell does she want? Do you know?""When can anyone predict your mother's behavior?" she asks in a hushed tone. "You're going to have to dive into this well blindfolded."I groan and walk past her on my way downstairs. I'm anxious to get this done and over with. She made all of us wait the whole day for this, so if better be good. And it better not have anything to do with those people.She's already downstairs with Mary, and they both turn to look at me as I approach them. What were they discussing that I couldn't hear? It makes me sick that Mary has secrets with her now. There are two huge shopping bags on the couch beside them. Mom notices my eyes on them and picks up one of them. She hands it to me, but I don't take it just yet. "For you.""What for?" I ask suspiciously. And I don't care that I sound suspicious."Rita and Tommaso's wedding."I barely know Rita. She was Mary's friend. Also, I never got along with her. "I don't see what I have to do with this. I don't want to go.""The whole family has been invited, Laura,” mom says in a strained voice. I’m already annoying her. Good. I hope she feels a third of what I’m feeling at the moment. “You have to come. It won’t seem right if you don’t.”“Rita never invited me personally. And anyway, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind my absence. I wasn’t even at the engagement.”“It doesn’t matter,” she says forcefully. “There will be a lot of people present and we have to be together. I’ve already spoken to your father. When he gets off work, he will meet us there. It’s not negotiable, Laura.”“I have plans. I can’t drop everything because of Rita.”“It’s not about Rita, it’s about society. Can’t you understand that?” She’s raising her voice, and it’s making me feel more upset.“Mom, I’m not a kid anymore,” I remind her. “You can’t make me do this. You can’t force me to go someplace I don’t want to go to! I’m sure Mary is thrilled to go there, but I’m not. I don’t care about Rita or Tommaso, and I care even less about society!”Her nostrils are flared, that’s how upset she is. And she’s looking daggers at me. I fold my arms and glance at Mary. She’s staring at her feet. Her face is blank. Mom says, “Laura. You will do this. I don’t care that you think you’re a grown woman. I assure you that you are not. I let things like this slide most of the time, but this time, you have to attend the wedding. It’s imperative. When you move out, and pay your bills, and stop relying on us fully, you will be able to make whatever decision you want. But while you’re under my roof, you will go. That’s the end of it.”She hands me the bag forcefully and I take it. My eyes don’t leave her face. The silence is thick and I’m choking on it, but I have to hold it in. I have to let it slide down to my lungs and poison me. When it becomes evident that there is nothing left for her to say to me, I make my way upstairs. It’s hard to ignore the way she’s glaring at me, but it has to be done.“Be down here in two hours,” mom says to my back.I reach my room. I throw the paper bag onto the bed and allow myself a few minutes to calm down. The more I process her words, the angrier I feel. It’s ridiculous that she thinks she can get away with this. It’s ridiculous that she thinks she can talk to me the way she does.I glare at the shopping bag. It was light when I carried it upstairs, so I don’t know what’s inside. I walk toward my bed and pick it up. I part the tissue paper and discover a folded dress inside. I pull it from the bag and hold it up. It’s a beige dress with thin straps and a tight bodice. The skirt is somewhat flared, and when I hold it closer to my body, it ends a centimeter above my knee.I scoff and throw it back in the bag.I wonder what mom is up to.I hate that despite my unwillingness to attend this wedding, I'm ready on time. Not being ready on time would start another argument with my mom, but as much as I would like to argue with her, it's better to keep things the way they are. I know how she can get when she doesn't have her way, and I don't want that at the moment. I want to attend this damned wedding and see the end of this awful day. I check my reflection in the mirror. I'm fairly satisfied with it. There were more beautiful dresses in my closet, but since she wants me to wear this one, I will. I don't care how I look. It's not that it's a bad dress; it's too plain for a wedding. Weddings are glamorous affairs for people like us, and most of the time, the women wear designer dresses. Mom bought this dress at a store I've never even heard of. I don't know what she's thinking, but I won't challenge her. Again, I couldn't care less. After accessorizing, I make my way downstairs. Mom is there with her arms folded, and sh
Our eyes meet occasionally, and I can't seem to understand why he keeps looking at me. Mom and Mary joined me as soon as dad arrived a few minutes ago. Mom scolds him for being late, but he makes no reply. We glance at each other, and his exhaustion becomes mine. She keeps going on and on about how bad he made the family look, and he simply bows his head in greeting to anyone we know who walks by. Mom stops momentarily and forces a smile but as soon as they're out of earshot, she continues with her pointless speech. I feel Mary glance at me but I'm still mad at her for reasons I can't comprehend myself, not fully. Maybe I began fearing her duplicity for the first time ever. I've never seen her friendliness with mom as a threat, not until today. There's a lot I've said to her about the way I feel about mom, and if she reported everything back, well...Deep down, I know I'm being unreasonable. I know Mary. I know she isn't like that. But the fear won't leave my bones and I don't know h
I'm shocked to see him standing in front of me. What does he want? He's holding a glass of champagne. It's full, and he twists it around in his hand without spilling his drink. I'm distracted by the sloshing golden liquid for a few beats, and then I look back at his face. His eyes are searching mine keenly, and I'm torn between ignoring him and demanding to know what he wants from me. I decide to go with the latter. "May I help you with anything?" I ask sarcastically. His mouth quirks. "Not unless you're serving canapés."I grit my teeth. I shouldn't have said anything. I take a sip of champagne and unwillingly remember the bottle of champagne from last night. God, I can't believe that was just last night. It feels like ages ago. He glances at the glass in my hand meaningfully but says nothing. I can tell that he's thinking about the same thing as I. I tilt my head back and drink the last of the champagne. The silence between us is beyond awkward. I don't know why he felt the n
I wake up to a knock on my bedroom door. I look around the room. I slept through the night. I didn't think I would. I came home fuming because I was in no mood to meet up with my friends. Mom had managed to ruin my whole week with her words and attitude concerning Luca Ferrante. Sometimes I close my eyes and can't believe that actually happened. To be frank, I'm not surprised, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I'm less hurt by what she said and did. It was no surprise to me that she meant to arrange a marriage between Mary and Luca, but telling me to stay away from him was taking it a step too far, even for her standards. The dress. The speech. It's all messing with my head. I don't remember feeling this angry with something she did, and so the best thing that I can do is keep my distance from her. If she tries to tell me something else regarding the issue this morning, my response won't be pleasing to her. There's the knock again. It interrupts my train of thought. I had forg
There's a card inside which has been rolled up and tied with yet another piece of red ribbon. I'm frightened now and I can't explain why. This isn't an ordinary gift. I don't know anyone who would send me this. Luca Ferrante springs to mind and it makes me even more terrified. This can't be from him. Surely, it can't. I pick up the rolled-up card and slide the ribbon off. The card has been typed, and as soon as my eyes skim it, I realize what this is about. It's an invitation to a masquerade party. My name is on the invite, and it says I can bring a friend along. There's no name on the invitation or anywhere in the box, so I don't know who sent me this. I tell myself that at least it wasn't Luca Ferrante. But if not him, then who?I read the invitation again. A masquerade tomorrow evening? I'm not interested. I don't trust it simply because I don't know who invited me. I can’t go to a party when I don’t know who’s throwing it. That’s asking for unnecessary trouble. I close the box
"How does this look?" Victoria asks. "Does it look better with my hair up or down?"Brett sighs. "Just do whatever. Jesus.""Up," I tell her. "You've got a long and elegant neck. Show it off. There's no reason why you should keep your hair long."She starts pinning her hair up and I stare at my reflection for the twentieth time. I'm all dressed up, and my fear is that we'll show up to this masquerade looking utterly ridiculous. Victoria assured me that it's a formal event, but she's throwing this party without knowing if people will abide to the rules. People normally don't. It's quite possible that we'll see people dressed in cowboy suits. "I feel like I'm going to a wedding," Brett comments. He then turns to wink at me. "Maybe yours with the Italian stallion."I glare at him. "I didn't find that funny.""It wasn't meant to be funny.""Like this?" Victoria asks, turning so we have a view of the back of her head. I nod and tell her it looks perfect. Brett says nothing at all, just go
I don't figure out what it is either. Not anytime soon. "I need a break," I say to Brett. "I need a bathroom break."He doesn't hear me. Neither does Victoria. I give up trying to make them listen to me and find my own way to the bathroom. It's not hard to find. It's in the room across from the one we were in. I walk down a long and narrow corridor to get there, and on my way there I see a couple making out in the dark. They don't stop when they hear me approach. I'm more weirded out by the fact that they were making out with masks on than them not stopping when I neared them. The bathroom is cool and clean. It's also empty. I lock myself in one of the stalls and empty my bladder. I'm glad I stayed. I'm having a good time despite my hesitance earlier. The door to the bathroom opens and two or more women shuffle inside. One of them is crying hysterically, and I feel so out of place that I hold my breath so I don't interrupt what's happening. "I can't believe him!" one of them is s
Luca I watch Laura walk away and return to the party. She won't stay long now that she knows I'm here. To be frank, her hatred toward me intrigues me. I'm not sure what I've done to her to deserve this treatment. From what I've heard, she's an agreeable and friendly person, however, when it comes to me, her anger becomes palpable. I want to know why. I push myself off the wall and head in the opposite direction. If I walk past the toilets, I'll reach my office. It isn't exclusively mine, but I tend to use it sometimes. I open the door and find Gregory inside. He's just ended a phone call. I place the mask on the table and ask, "Is she gone?""Yeah, with all her friends," he answers. "I don't know how she got in here without an invitation. We didn't want to cause a scene by asking her to leave.""You did well," I tell him. "But I don't want this to repeat itself. I want to be informed as soon as she's at the door."Gregory has been my head of security for many years. The reason wh