My heart hammer in my chest at his words ."Why not? I thought it would be beneficial to have a connection to the Da Costas."
"Would it?" He stares me down with his impenetrable gaze. "There's nothing left of them, Adrian. They're ruined. No, you will not marry Marzia."
My hands form fists at my sides as I listen to him speak. I don't want this to be true. Even though arranged marriages are a regular occurrance in our world, it never dawned on me that Father might be against my relationship with Marzia. "But that day in the docks," I argue. "You tried to set up an alliance. You wanted me to marry Marzia."
"That was a long time ago." He shakes his head. "Things have changed. We need more powerful allies now, Adrian. Allies like the Carluccis."
"The Carluccis?" I laugh out loud. "You can't be serious."
The Carluccis are a family of traders that has lifted itself through the ranks by the money they make with their import and export business. But they are nouveau riche, considered even lower in rank than us. And their money will never make up for their lack of poise.
"They have a daughter, Nicoletta," Father goes on, ignoring everything I've just said. "I've arranged for you and your brother, Ryder, to travel to their estate in a few days to meet her."
"What?" I glare at him. "But I want to marry Marzia."
"Adrian, you're acting like an insolent fucking child," Father tells me, shaking his head with disappointment. "You will marry Nicoletta. You have three months."
"Three months?" I snap back. "For what?"
"To accept this." Father shrugs. "And of course, to end Marzia Da Costa's life."
I slam my fist on the desk, glaring at him. "You can't be fucking serious!"
"Oh, I'm very fucking serious, Adrian." Father sets down his empty glass tumbler, cold eyes boring into mine. "And since you prevented me from dealing with the Marzia problem today, I'll make things easier for you."
"How?" I bark.
"I want the girl dead," he mutters. "Since you wouldn't let me do that today, that task falls on your shoulders now. Marzia Da Costa must die. You have three months before your wedding day with Nicoletta Carlucci. I expect her to be dead by then."
I'm about to argue but he stops me with his outstretched hand. I know it's a signal I can't ignore—I can't argue with him anymore. As a coughing fit takes over his body, I notice Father's coughing blood into his handkerchief again. My heart pounds.
10
Marzia
Eleanora is the only person who spends time with me. I'm rarely allowed out of the room, especially since Adrian left on some unfinished business he refused to discuss with me. At first, at least I knew he'd stop by my quarters every day. As much as I hated his presence, it also filled me with hope that he'd help me escape this place. But now he's gone, and the daily reprieve of his visits has been ripped away from me, as have been my walks in the garden.
I know my complexion will become pale and sallow if I'm forced to remain inside, but I'm too afraid to bring it up with anyone but Eleanora, and she just stares at me, eyes wide, feeling sorry for me when I speak.
I tried talking to some of the maids when I left the room before, but they all refused to acknowledge me. Adrian had warned me that this would happen. That they'd all been warned to keep away from me, to pretend I don't exist. But I didn't anticipate for it to hurt this much. To wound me as much as it has.
I feel like a ghost in the Bernardi Estate. Unnoticed, living locked up without a single visitor but the mute maid that can do nothing to ease my fears. Every night, I'm plagued by terrible nightmares. I remember Bruno Bernardi and his gun, pointed at my head. There's no doubt about the fact that the man wants me dead. And now that Adrian's gone, I have no one to protect me anymore.
I live in fear of Bruno storming into the room and taking my life. He's already taken everything else. My home, my parents, my brother, my fiancé, and even Adrian. I have nothing left.
It's becoming increasingly hard not to give up. I am plagued by bad thoughts, wishing I really was dead and yet incessantly eager to fight for my life every step of the day.
On the third day of Adrian's absence, Eleanora pushes the curtains in my bedroom aside. I groan when the sunlight beams into the room, rubbing my eyes. Eleanora approaches the bed, and it's then that I notice the excited expression on her face.
"What's going on?" I knit my brows together. I shouldn't try to speak to her, but she doesn't even attempt to answer, and she probably can't, anyway. But it's the one tie I have left with the normal word, and I don't try to fight the habit. I need to speak before I become mute myself.
She urges me to get up, and I groan, putting my bare feet on the hardwood floor. I follow Eleanora into the salon area in nothing but a white nightie.
At least Adrian took care of my appearance before he left me here to rot. My wardrobes are filled with beautiful clothes, much more revealing and tight than anything I've worn before. I hated it at first, hated being so exposed—but I soon realized no one would be able to see me, anyway, except for Eleanora, and she didn't appear to care about the clothes at all. Now, I'm grateful for the small mercy of getting ready every morning. It keeps me alive and moving, gives me a reason to wake up every day.
Eleanora is waiting for me in the salon, and on the coffee table in front of the sofa is a large package with a bow on top. I furrow my brows as I approach her, warily eyeing the package. "Who is this from?"
She doesn't answer of course, but she does give me a little smile which is more than I've managed to get out of her in the last few days.
I wonder whether I should open the package. It could be an unpleasant surprise... But in the end, my curiosity gets the best of me and I tug on the bow adorning the large box. It gives way and the ribbon falls open. I lift the edge of the box and my eyes widen when I see what's inside.
"Painting supplies..." I whisper. My fingers glide over things I've wanted my entire life. Two blank canvases, a sketchbook, a set of pencils, soft brushes, acrylic paints and paint thinner. This is beautiful. And I don't deserve it.
I shake my head to get the thought out. Just because papa was determined to keep me from doing things I loved too much, doesn't mean I don't deserve them. In any case, the painting supplies are a wonderful gift, and for the first time in months, I feel my heart soar.
"Are these from Adrian?" I ask Eleanora.
She nods, pointing to a note that's attached to the bow.
With shaky fingers, I pick up the card and come face to face with Adrian's scrawly handwriting for the very first time. Something moves inside me and I melt when I see that he took time to scribble a note for me himself. Despite his many shortcomings, he can be kind... and when he is, it's so very beautiful.
Marzia,
While I'm away, work on your painting and drawing. I know you have a talent, and it's time you stopped hiding it from the world. I will expect one sketch and one painting completed by the time I come back.
Your Adrian.
It feels as if someone's clenched my heart into an iron fist. I'm trying desperately to fight my emotions for Adrian and yet, I can't do anything to deny the feelings I've already developed for the man. I'm eager to please him, despite my hatred for him. My fingers pick up a pencil shakily. It's been years since I drew. I don't even know if I'd be any good at it anymore.