Page 51

The front door swings open before we even knock. Rosa, the housekeeper, stands frozen in the doorway. Her eyes flick from me to Lorde, then to our clasped hands. Her face flushes with something that’s almost delightful before she catches herself and steps aside.

“Your parents are in the parlor,” she says.

Lorde smiles at her. “Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Ah… Rosa, Miss.”

I grin. “Rosa has been with the family for years. Since I was a kid.” This is the first exciting thing to hit since we’ve arrived. “She’s from Turin. A cousin of my mother’s friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rosa. I’m Lorde.”

“Oh! I know who you are.” Rose motions for us to come inside. “You’re Camilla Sheen’s daughter. I’m… I’m a big fan of her movies.”

Her grin lures us inside. Lorde thanks Rosa for the compliment as she closes the door. After another smile, she scuttles toward the kitchen. I’m left alone in the foyer with Lorde, whose hand is still in mine. My left hand in her right. We still don’t have any rings but the engagement ring she got for me, and I wear it now.

My parents are exactly where we were told, sitting in silence across from each other, flanked by two untouched glasses of wine. Mama reads a paperback novel. Daddy peruses his tablet, jaw set in stone and eyes pulsing from behind his reading glasses.

“Hi,” I say.

They both look up. Their eyes fall on Lorde first, then our hands. Then the ring.

“Daisy,” Mama says, uncurling her legs and setting her book aside. “You’re back. We didn’t hear from you…”

“I know. That was the point."

Daddy gets up. “Is there a reason you’re walking in here holding hands and wearing that ring? Because something tells me you’ve spent all last night thinking up ways you can get out of your family duties, Daisy.” He clears his throat when he looks at Lorde. “I know we discussed other things, but…”

I swallow. Lorde doesn’t flinch. Her posture is perfect. It makes her taller than I’m used to because she usually slouches in that ineffably careless way.

“There’s a reason we’re walking in here like this, Daddy.” I step out before Lorde, showing my father that I’m still his daughter, still his Principessa even if I’m grown and calling my shots with someone else. “We’re married. In Vegas. Last night.”

Silence.

Oh, boy. It’s not just silence. It’s a complete, utter shutdown. Mama’s wine glass slips slightly from her fingers but doesn’t spill. Daddy lowers himself back into his chair like the weight of what I said has shoved him in the chest.

“You did what?”

I relocate my voice after it attempts to retreat into my stomach. “We eloped.”

“Youeloped?” my mother repeats as if I told her I joined a cult.

“It wasn’t a whim,” I say. “We love each other.”

“And the Antonettis?” my father snaps. “Do you think they’ll see this aslove? Do you think Mr. Antonetti will call this a charming detour?”

“I don’t care what he calls it,” I fire back, hating how much recent events have made me yell at my own daddy. “This isn’t a business arrangement. It never was.”

“Youthrew awaythe deal,” he says, voice rising.

“Maybe the deal deserved to fail,” I retort. “You were so concerned about tradition that you forgot I’m a person, not a pawn.”

He leaps up again, fists clenched. “Do you have any idea what you’ve risked?”

“Yes,” Lorde says, jutting into our family feud. “She risked staying silent about who she is. I know that’s inconvenient for your portfolio, but it’s the truth.”

He fixates on her. “You think you’ve conducted your Hollywood revolution? That you’ve liberated her from us?”

“No,” Lorde says, her voice slightly cracking after Daddy says such a thing. “I think she liberated herself. I just held the door open.” Oh, dear. Here comes that puff of laughter after she’s impressed herself.Not now, Lorde!“Like a proper gentlelady.”