Bound by Hatred(45)
“Please don’t blame yourself. Blame Father and his men. Blame Matteo. I don’t care, but don’t blame yourself.”
“Oh, I’m blaming all of them, don’t worry, but that doesn’t change that without me, Sid would still be playing his crappy guitar and flirt with Munich girls.”
“You can’t change the past, Gianna, but you can make the best of your future.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I missed your optimism.” I rested my head in her lap and closed my eyes. “I missed you so much.”
She stroked my hair. “I missed you too. I’m so happy that you’ll live in New York with me.”
“First I have to marry Matteo. How am I going to be a wife, Aria?”
“He and Luca work a lot. You won’t have to see him very often.”
“But still. I’ll have to sleep with him and share a bed with him and try to be civil to him for God-knows-how long. It’s not like he’ll give me another chance to run.”
“You’re thinking about running again?” she asked in a small voice.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think. Matteo can be funny and he’s good looking, so on a physical level at least it shouldn’t be too bad. I’m sure he’s a good lover considering how many girls he’s had in the past.”
I cringed. “Right. If we return to New York tonight, he’ll probably expect to sleep with me.”
Aria searched my face. “Are you worried he’ll let his anger out on you for sleeping with other guys before him?”
“I never did.”
Aria blinked. “You never did what?”
“I never slept with any guy. I would have if I’d had a bit more time to get to know a guy but that was never the case.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? Father treated you horribly. Maybe he would forgive you if you told him the truth.” She moved as if she wanted to head downstairs to tell him herself, but I pulled her back down on the bed.
“Don’t,” I said firmly. “I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t care if they call me a slut. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing.”
Aria gave me a look that made it clear she thought I’d lost my mind. “You have to tell Matteo at least. You have to.”
“Why? So he can pride himself on being my first? Fuck no. He’s already acting like he’s my savior. It’ll be only worse if he finds out.”
“No, you have to tell him so he can be careful.”
I snorted. “I don’t need him to be careful. I don’t want him to know.”
“Gianna, if your first time is anything like mine you’ll be thanking your lucky stars if Matteo is careful, trust me.”
“I’ll survive.” But Aria’s words were starting to make me nervous.
“That’s ridiculous. If he thinks you’re experienced, he might take you without much preparation. That’ll really hurt.”
I shook my head. “Aria, please. I’ve made my decision. I don’t want Matteo to know. It’s none of his business.”
“What if he finds out anyway? There would have been no way I could have hidden it from Luca.”
“I’m good at hiding pain. Maybe I’ll bite into a pillow.”
Aria laughed. “That sounds like the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”
Someone knocked. I quickly sat up, my stomach in knots. What if Father and Dante had changed their minds and I was to stay in Chicago?
When the door opened and Mother walked in, I exhaled. She didn’t smile and didn’t try to come closer. She was the image of a perfect Italian wife, always properly dressed, always submissive and polite, and incredibly skilled at hiding bruises whenever Father lost it and slapped her. She was everything I never wanted to become. If Matteo ever slapped me, I’d hit him back, no matter the consequences.
“The priest is on his way. He’ll be here in fifteen minutes. We need to get you ready for the ceremony,” she said matter-of-factly.
My eyes widened. “So soon?”
Mother nodded. “The Vitiellos want to return to New York as soon as possible, which is probably for the best.”
I rose from the bed, then slowly walked toward Mother. “Father will be glad to see me gone.”
‘What about you?’ I wanted to ask but didn’t dare to.
Mother lifted her hand and brushed my cheek for the barest moment before taking a step back. “You shouldn’t have run. You ruined your reputation.”
“I don’t care about my reputation.”
“But you should.” She turned to my wardrobe and opened it. “Now let’s see if there’s a dress you can wear for the ceremony. Of course I wish I could have seen you walk down the aisle in a beautiful white wedding dress.” She sighed. Was she trying to make me feel guilty? Because it was working.