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