Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
When I nod at Julian, he heads to his bedroom, and I let Beppe out of his tote and turn my attention to Michael.
“What happened to your face?” I ask.
“Your mom’s pissed at me,” he groans. “She doesn’t get that a man has needs beyond what a wife can provide sometimes. That’s something you should remember, Gabriela. It will make your marriage much easier.”
That bit of information makes me feel queasy, but of course, he doesn’t notice. Michael has always been an oversharer, and the last thing I want to hear about is what he does in his free time.
“Men like variety,” he explains, like I’m not getting the concept. “The wife is the home base. She keeps the house clean, cooks dinner, and raises the children. The man works hard to provide. Sometimes he wants something different than the same home-cooked meal every night. You get me?”
“Is this what you came to talk to me about?”
“No, but it will do you good to understand. No man wants a wife who nags about what he’s doing outside the house. You mind your business, and that’s all you have to worry about. Trust me, you’ll be much happier for it.”
Even though my mom has never liked me, I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for her. But if I don’t find a way out of my marriage contract, I’ll be doomed to the same fate.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell Michael, hoping he’ll get to the point.
He drags a hand through his hair and sighs. “Well, anyway, the reason I’m here is because I spoke to Riccardo today.”
I swallow my nerves, wondering if Riccardo said something to Michael about last weekend.
“He wants you to submit to a virginity test,” Michael informs me. “He’ll set it up and let you know the date.”
“What?” I stare at him, horrified.
“It’s standard practice in the higher echelons,” Michael says. “It’ll be quick.”
Dread settles in my gut as I consider the fallout when they discover I’m not a virgin. I’m imagining an exile far away from everyone I know, or a rushed engagement to someone even worse than Riccardo.
They’ll definitely yank me out of school, and I’ll never be allowed to go back.
The world around me blurs, and it feels like my life is flashing before my eyes.
I always knew having sex would be a risk, but I never thought Riccardo would stoop this low. The man showed up to our last family dinner covered in lipstick and perfume, and no one said a word about it.
This might be the world we live in, but I know the only reason he’s doing this is because his pride was wounded when he was on the island. He didn’t like that I defended Romeo, or that I was dancing with him.
“He also wants to move the wedding up to the end of June,” Michael announces.
“But that’s right after graduation,” I wheeze.
“Yeah, well, that’s his prerogative.” Michael shrugs. “Just be glad he’s letting you finish school. These high society types like to have their women educated so they can brag about it. It’s a waste of money if you ask me.”
“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” I swallow.
I’m about two seconds away from breaking down, and I don’t want Michael to see it. He’ll just yell at me and tell me what a disappointment I am.
“Yeah, that’s it. Don’t forget you have dance practice with Riccardo this weekend, and your cousin Val will go over wedding plans with both of you.”
I give him a stiff nod, and Michael presses the button for the elevator.
“Riccardo also wants weekly dinners with you from here on out,” he says as he steps inside the carriage. “I’ll let you two figure out the details.”
I stare through him as the elevator doors close, and only once he’s gone do I let the hot tears burning my eyes leak free.
“Miss Bianchi.” Julian appears a minute later as I’m still standing there, frozen. “Can I get you anything?”
“No,” I choke out. “Thank you, but I just want to go lie down.”
He nods, and I walk to my room in a daze, Beppe trailing after me. I scoop him up into my arms and crawl into bed, holding him as I cry it out. We stay like that for a long time, until all my tears have dried, and numbness settles in.
When I reach for my phone and check my messages, Eros still hasn’t texted me back. I really wish I could talk to him right now.
As I’m thinking about it, my phone rings, and I’m hopeful—until I see Riccardo’s name on the screen. He never calls me, but I’m assuming this must be about the weekly dinners. I don’t want to talk to him, but I know it will only make things worse if I don’t answer.