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“I think I need to visit the ladies’,” I say quickly, setting the champagne flute aside and standing. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Of course.” Vito starts to stand as well. “I can show you?—”

“I know where it is, thank you.” I give him a quick, tight smile that I hope looks genuine. “I paid attention to the tour. It was lovely. This is all… lovely.”

I can’t think of a better word right now, because I don’t mean any of it. I need to get away from him, from this feeling of being trapped, of the walls closing in on me. I need him to not be touching me, to not be so close.

My chest aches as I hurry toward the bathroom, my thoughts drifting back to Sebastian. I can still feel the sensation of his mouth on mine, hungry and desperate, devouring the only kiss he knew he would ever get to have. My first kiss.

I can’t help but wonder if he regrets it now. He said he didn’t, but in the light of day—who knows? Maybe, seeing the wreck of his body that my father left him with, he wishes he’d done things differently. That he’d told me no.

I likely won’t ever know the answer to that question.

—

The feelingof dread in my stomach when I’m summoned to my father’s office the next morning is a harbinger of what’s to come. I haven’t seen or talked to Sebastian—I assume he’s still recovering, out of sight of the household and me.

The walk to the office feels longer than usual. I knock quickly on the door before stepping inside, smoothing my face into a carefully blank expression. “You wanted to see me?”

My father looks up from his desk, motioning for me to come and sit. “Yes, Estella. Sit down, please.”

I obey wordlessly. All of the fight has gone out of me after seeing what he did to Sebastian. As I look at him, I can’t imagine how I ever loved him, how I ever thought that any part of him was good. I want to scream at him that I hate him for what he did, that Luis would hate him too, but I don’t. If I were to do that, and he hurt Sebastian again, I couldn’t live with myself.

I don’t know how I’m going to live like this, as it is.

“I’ve made a decision regarding your marriage,” he says without preamble. My mouth drops open slightly.

“I thought—” My voice cracks. “I thought you said that I would get a say in it. That you would listen to what I wanted and take that into consideration?—”

“Your say in the matter vanished when I caught you in the garden with your bodyguard.” My father’s voice snaps between us like the crack of a whip. “It’s clear you have no thought for your future, Estella, so I will think of it for you and make the choices that you clearly cannot. And I’ve made it.”

I swallow hard, fighting back tears as panic grips me. “Who is it?” I whisper, but I think I already know.

“Vito Bianchi,” he says with finality, the two words coming down like a hammer. They feel like a physical blow—I knew, deep down, that this was coming, but I couldn’t have prepared myself for how the reality would make me feel.

“He’s too old,” I protest weakly. “And I don’t want him. Please—” I bite my lip, wishing I could say with any honesty that I’ll happily marry one of the others, but I can’t. And I think my father knows it.

Not that he’s going to relent, anyway.

“He’s in his forties.” My father looks at me without sympathy. “He’s hardly old. And he will strengthen our position. He’s the former underboss to the Boston don. With the heir to thatfamily taking over soon, and the new don wishing to place his own choice in the role, Vito’s move to our family makes sense. It will strengthen ties with Boston, bring us new business opportunities, and offer chances to expand. This is the right decision, Estella.”

The right decision for everyone except me,I think bitterly. But I can’t say it aloud. It will change nothing and only make my father angry.

“When is the engagement?” I whisper, dejected. My father’s eyes narrow.

“Vito will be coming to stay with us for a period of time to court you,” he explains. “The agreement between us is made, of course, but I want to give you time to acclimate to each other. I’m not a monster.” His voice softens ever so slightly, and my head snaps up.

“You hurt Sebastian.” I can’t stop the words from slipping out, even as I know they’re a mistake. “So yes. You are.”

My father’s expression instantly darkens. “And how would you know about that, daughter?” His voice is cold, suddenly, dangerous. A warning that I’m treading on the verge of revealing things I shouldn’t—that I went to Sebastian’s room, that I saw the state he was in.

“I heard him crying out in his sleep,” I backtrack quickly. “I—I know it was him.”

His expression smooths. “He touched you,” he says coolly. “He was punished for it. It’s lucky for him that he’s not dead now, Estella, and that he’s still being privileged to guard you. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

I know that’s not true. I know why Sebastian is still alive, why he’s still going to be my bodyguard, and it’s not aprivilege. It’s so my father can punish him further by making him watch every step of my being given to another man, and so my father can force my compliance by making sure I know that Sebastian is indanger if I refuse.That’swhat’s going on here—not any measure of mercy from my father.

“I am being generous in allowing you time to get to know your future husband.” His voice turns taut. “Don’t strain that generosity, daughter.”