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I can see the tears gathering in her eyes, but I don’t feel sorry for her. She has allowed him to take every single drop of power from her. She could fight for me. She won’t.

I’m not sad in the slightest about leaving my parents. They can fuck right off as far as I’m concerned. Mostly I don’t want to leave Massi. We do everything together and I worry about him as well.

Mum keeps trying to tell me how great England is and how I’ll love living with her parents. She forgets that I know she ran away from home at 18 and moved to Australia. Can’t have been that great.

It should be David being sent away. In another family, he would have been reported to the police and would be locked up for it. The shroud of secrecy would be to protect my feelings and dignity, not to shield him from consequences.

My life might feel like it was worth something in a family like that. Not like a walking vagina punished because a dirty old man tarnished me before they had a chance to sell my purity.

Chapter Nineteen

Francesca

“Here you go. Make sure you wear it today.” Elio thrusts a small velvet box into my hand as he walks past me on his way to the kitchen.

He’s staring into the fridge as my thumb digs into the lip of the box and snaps it open to reveal a huge princess-cut diamond sitting on a band covered with lots of little diamonds. It is stunning. Absolutely gorgeous. And I motherfucking hate it.

Sick to my stomach, I tilt the box letting the light refract off all the little angles, glistening every plane it hits. Spectacular as it is, it may as well be a ball and chain or a set of handcuffs. And not the fun fluffy kind.

I glare at Elio’s back. No glorious sunset. No popping champagne. No lover down on one knee. No surprise. No joy. Just a box thrown at me with as much care as someone might toss a bone to a dog. Probably less.

I always imagined that receiving an engagement ring would be one of my life’s memorable moments. Down on one knee, in a romantic setting, they would pledge their undying love and ask me to be theirs for life.

Dreams are free for a reason.

Overcome with emotion, I fight the tears because I have shed way too many of them over this insensitive man and this doomed arranged marriage. Instead, I let rage percolate. The box shuts with a clap and I shove it in the pocket of the lightweight sweatpants I’m wearing.

“Is it really necessary that I attend this thing?” my voice is cold, dead.

“I just gave you a $350,000 ring and I’m copping attitude? And, yes. It is necessary.” Elio replies as he saunters around the kitchen island to perch on a stool. He is drinking some kind of pre-workout concoction from a plastic shaker.

“It could be worth $5 billion and I would still hate it,” I snap. “Did you have to throw it at me?”

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want me to get down on one knee?” He strides over to where I sit on the sofa to kneel at my feet, sarcasm surrounding his actions like an aura. “Francesca, our parents are forcing us to get married, we’ve been on a few dates, and from my limited experience you’re a pretty good root - will you do me the honour of joining me in resenting family duty and reluctantly getting married?”

Despite my best efforts a small snort escapes. “Pretty good? You seemed to enjoy yourself. But that’s beside the point, I don’t want to marry you and I don’t want to come to your shitty party today either.”

“Princess, you don’t have a choice. On either front.” He digs into my pocket, his hands getting uncomfortably close to intimate areas I wish he had no knowledge of and pulls out the ring box. He slides the symbolic piece of obnoxious jewellery onto my finger easily and I hold up my hand to inspect it.

He watches me curiously and when I don’t say anything he shakes his head and asks, “Did you really want me to propose properly?”

“No!” I scowl immediately. “This isn’t real, this thing between you and I. But because of it, I’ll never experience the real thing. I won’t get to feel like the most loved and cherished woman in the world. I get to feel like a piece of property being traded between families. So excuse me for feeling robbed.”

“I’m sorry I can’t give you that,” he says with no emotion nor sincerity in his voice.

“It is what it is.” I shrug. Sighing, I get up and brush past Elio’s massive form, still kneeling on the floor. “I guess I’ll go get ready for this party then.”

“It’s a pool party. Everyone will just be wearing bathers.”

Trying to take the poison out of my tone I fake laugh and respond, “You must have forgotten to mention that. By the way, I’m inviting Sammy from work.”

“She hot?”

“Smokin’ hot. She’s also smart enough to think you’re a wanker.”

While it is easier living at the Marino house now, that is mostly a reflection of how miserable I was living with my parents.

When Sandy and Dad sat Elio and me down a few weeks ago to inform us that our wedding would be in six months and I would be moving into the Marino house immediately, I couldn’t even bring myself to be mad about having my life dragged around again.