"Marzia?" My handmaid, Lucia, appears in the door frame with a forever meek expression, just like every other woman in this house. "Your parents are ready for you now."
I nod, running the silver hairbrush through my dark locks one last time before setting it down on my vanity table. The girl in the mirror stares back at me, beautiful, and empty.
I pick myself up and smooth down the perfectly conservative dress I'm forced to wear. I haven't worn a pair of pants since I was a little girl. It's just not proper for a girl like me.
Any other girl would be excited by the thought of her eighteenth birthday, yet I lived in fear of mine. But now that it's here, the sinking feeling in my stomach has hit rock bottom. I'll be lavished with expensive gifts. A party will be announced. And then I'll be forced to marry the man my parents picked for me.
I walk down the stairs, surprising Lucia as I descend them. She stumbles back to give a respectful bow, but accidentally bumps into a vase on the console table she was dusting. The vase falls, shattering on the hardwood floor.
There's a moment of deathly silence followed by Lucia's sob as she throws herself to the ground, gathering the shards with shaky fingers.
"Lucia, leave it, please," I beg her. "You'll cut yourself, you're shaking."
"T-That vase was priceless, signorina," she manages, her voice trembling as badly as her fingers. "Y-Your father... he'll-"
"He won't do anything," I reassure her. "Just calm down and-"
"What's all this commotion about?" She gasps lightly as we raise our heads, seeing my father standing impatiently at the foot of the stairs. "What happened here?"
"Papa," I say calmly, bowing slightly. "I accidentally smashed this vase. Lucia is cleaning it up now."
"No matter," papa waves his hand dismissively, even though the vase was probably worth tens of thousands of euros. "Come to the salon, your mother and I are waiting."
Lucia breathes a sigh of relief, squeezing my palm to thank me silently.
"Girl!" papa barks. "Get your hands off her. Who do you think you are?"
"Mi scusi, signore," Lucia whispers, bowing respectfully and flushing a deep shade of red before getting back to picking up the broken pieces.
I follow papa into the salon where mama is waiting with a stoic expression. She nods with a small smile when she sees me. I sit in one of the armchairs while they take the loveseat in front of me.
"Happy birthday," mama tells me with a tight smile. "You are finally eighteen. Congratulations on becoming a woman."
"Thank you." My mouth twitches. I want to say so much more. Beg them to let me go, to let me live a life of my own. But I know there's no way that's happening.
The only person who could possibly help me now is my brother, Luigi, but he's away on business and won't be back for months. He always takes my side, but I'm alone now, and powerless against my parents.
"I'm sure you know what this means," papa speaks with a wide smile. "It is finally time to announce your engagement. We will be holding a spectacular masquerade party in your honor in two weeks' time. Everyone who's anyone will be invited. The creme of the crop of Palermo."
But that means nothing to me, because I know the person who means most to me won't be invited. My parents hate the Bernardis, always have. There's no way they would invite Adrian or papa to their party. Not unless they really wanted to gloat and rub it in their faces.
"Of course, papa," I mutter obediently, avoiding his gaze. I don't want to hear my parents' news. I don't want to know who holds my life in their hands. It'll be too easy for them to crush all my hopes and dreams. To destroy everything I've spent my life wishing for, lusting after.
"We have indeed picked a husband for you," papa goes on proudly. "We are delighted to tell you who we've picked. We think you'll be very happy."
"Oh?" My eyes light up as they meet his. Is it possible... no, surely it can't be. They would never marry me to Adrian... would they? "Who is it?"
My curiosity gets the better of me as I ask for his name. I have to know.
My parents exchange excited glances and mama speaks up next.
"You will marry Vitto Donati, Marzia."
I feel like I'm going to be sick.
My manicured hands feel heavy in my lap. My head is spinning. Vitto. The boy who's been chasing me since I was a little girl. The boy whose parents own the docks where I met Adrian. The monster who broke a younger boy's nose just to prove his own worth. The weakling who needed the backup of four of his friends to take on someone a year younger.
"I..." My words dry up in my throat. I want to be truthful for once. To say how I truly feel about this marriage, how devastated I am by their pick. But in the end, I'm not brave enough. "Thank you, mama. Thank you, papa."
"We knew you'd be delighted," papa grins widely. "Vitto is ecstatic as well. We will arrange for you to see him again before the masquerade party so you may reacquaint yourselves."
"Okay," I whisper. I still feel like I'm going to be sick, nausea coming and going in waves. "May I... may I please be excused?"
"Already?" Mama raises her thinly plucked eyebrows. "Don't you want to open all your presents?"
"I have a headache," I mutter. "I will open them all in my room, if that's alright... I just need to..."
I get up and rush toward the double doors leading out of the stuffy salon. Opening them wide, I run outside, ignoring my mother and father's calls as I ascend the stairs and rush back into my room.
I take the key from outside the door. I'm not letting them take this small moment of privacy from me, so I lock the door from the inside. My heart beats with the small victory. At least I picked my own prison this time.
The dress I'm wearing is so tight around my waist it suffocates me. I pull angrily at the pins holding my hair in place, allowing my perfect hairstyle to come tumbling down. Now, all my hair is falling down my back in a way my parents would surely find inappropriate. But I don't care.
Perhaps this is my last little rebellion. The last one before I become Vitto's wife.
I close my eyes, stifling a sob. I try to remember the last time I've seen Vitto. It must've been two years ago during Luigi's eighteenth birthday party. There's no denying the boy is handsome - he's tall, dark and chiseled. Any girl in Palermo, in Sicily, would be delighted to marry him. But I'm not. In fact, it's my worst nightmare.
The marriage announcement feels like a direct betrayal to Adrian. I know the promise we made was childish and silly, and yet I kept that memory close to my heart, carrying with me through all these years as a saving grace. But now my dying hope of getting away from this oppressive house has been well and truly squashed. There's no way Vitto will let me see Adrian. He always hated him.
I sit in front of my window overlooking the beautiful gardens of our family home where I'm rarely allowed to go. Our vineyards stretch over the acres of land we own. Our family, the De Lucas, are known for our grappa. We have been proudly making it since 1791, and the family recipe is our most sought after secret.
But what the world doesn't know is that the De Lucas import and export many other things on top of the grappa. My father has expanded the business to include drugs. The grappa trade is the perfect way to hide his illegal dealings and now, with Vitto on his side, he will control the docks, too, making our profits skyrocket.