Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,2
so tired? When did the man who snuck me an extra cookie lose control of his emotions?
He swiped his hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the short-tempered man who snapped, but all that was left was exhaustion. “We’re training him now, and once he settles in, we’ll focus more on your wedding.”
“He’s almost forty,” I said softly. I held tight to the emotions threatening to snap free, too nervous when he obviously sat so close to the edge.
“I was older than your mother,” he said without any of the concern rioting through me.
“By five years.” Panic slipped past my resolve to remain calm, and my voice rose. Camden was almost twice my age, and my father didn’t seem to care at all. “This is completely different. You and Mama had—”
“An arranged marriage just like you will. She did what was best for her family, and she’d be ashamed to see you shirking your duties now.” His words hit me like a slap to the face. “Now, stop arguing, Verana. It’s pointless.”
The finality in the sharp tone I’d never heard used with me urged me to plead harder than I’d ever done with him.
I was supposed to have more time to convince him I was more than a socialite. If I could just make him hear me. If I could just buy some time. I scooted to the edge of my seat, my hands out. “Papa, I’m smart. I can be useful to Mariano Shipping,” I said, going back to how the night all started.
“It’s not your job to be smart, Verana. You knew this,” he almost pleaded. Like he knew he was close to the edge, and he was begging me not to push him.
But I was too far entrenched in panic over marrying Camden.
“But I am. If you’d just let me work a little b—”
“No,” he interrupted with finality.
His harsh rebuttal snapped me back against my seat, my spine straight and tall. My desperation pleading for my father to hear me didn’t break through, so I shut down, leaving the professional socialite to mix with the iota of defiance I’d gained in my freedom at college.
“Fine. I’ll apply elsewhere.”
He barked a laugh. “I don’t think so, Verana.”
I clenched my sweaty palms into frustrated fists, desperate to hold onto my composure—to not crumble under the discomfort of going against him. Usually, I sat back, but this was my life, and a tiny voice inside urged me to fight.
“If you won’t hire me, then you can’t stop me from applying to a company that will,” I stated as I stood.
The man I only heard about from his coworkers made an appearance for the first time in my life.
His eyes narrowed to dark slits. “I’ll shut you down at every turn. I know every shipping company in New York. You’re a Mariano, act like it.” He stood too, mirroring my position. “Since God didn’t bless me with any male heirs, your job is to marry a man who will take care of our company. You’ll make a good wife, period. Like your mother taught you.”
Like a splinter in glass, I fractured—my father’s cruel words dumping water on my fiery anger and I sat down, hard. Tears burned up the back of my throat and pooled on my lids, and I barely managed to keep them from falling.
But he saw the hurt, and it—like his anger—doused his fight too. His lids slid closed, and he shook his head, sagging back in his seat.
“It’s getting late,” I whispered.
He nodded, his eyes sliding open, not bothering to hide his regret. I swallowed the last bit of my tears down and stood. He stood with me and walked me out.
“You know I love you, Verana,” he said at the door.
“I love you too.”
He squeezed my hand. “And I love this company. It’s what we have left of your mama. We must do what we have to, to keep it alive.”
Unable to think of anything to respond with that would be productive to the night, I squeezed his hand back, and with a forced smile, left.
I made it to the end of the driveway before I pulled out my phone to message my friends.
Bitches: Arranged marriage is on…Kill me.
Two
Vera
Raelynn: I thought you were joking…
Me: Nope. Welcome home to me. *eyeroll*
Raelynn: How about a girls’ night?
Nova: Boo to arranged marriages.
Nova: And I can’t do a girls’ night. I’m out of town.