Page 42 of Forbidden Sins
ESTELLA
F our days later, I find myself at Marchesa, my three friends squealing with delight at every dress that I try on for my engagement party, while Sebastian watches from two couches away, his face utterly impassive.
Last night, I signed what felt like my death warrant.
Sebastian was present for that too, standing guard along with Brick and three of Vito’s men as we went to St. Patrick’s to sign the betrothal contract in front of the priest. He watched as I signed my name next to Vito’s, as Vito kissed me once on each cheek and then lightly on the mouth, according to tradition, and my fate was sealed.
Sebastian hasn’t come to my room again since that night, and neither has Vito.
I know it’s too much to hope that Vito has given up on his idea of lessons .
More likely, he plans to assert his dominance over me once again on the night of our engagement party, and however many nights after that, until we’re married and there’s nothing that he can’t take from me any longer.
As for Sebastian, I’m hoping that his distance is because he’s decided to leave, as I asked him to.
That he’s putting space between us so that it will be easier for him to walk away.
The thought makes my heart feel as if it’s being sliced from my chest, but it will be better in the end.
I tell myself that, over and over again. One of us should be happy.
One of us should get to live the life they want.
I invited Marilee, Cora, and Rachel to go shopping with me for my dress, clinging on to the one bit of normalcy that I have control over.
My father could have stopped them from coming with me, I suppose, given the driver instructions to not pick them up on the way as I’d asked, but with my engagement set in stone, he must not have seen a reason to deny me.
Vito will deny me my friends soon enough, anyway. Maybe letting me have this was my father’s last way of showing that he does care for my happiness, at least a little. When it suits him to make allowances.
The three of them were ecstatic, climbing into the back of the town car with me as Sebastian sat cold and rigid in the passenger’s seat up front.
Marilee squealed over the champagne provided for us, opening a bottle with a shout and passing flutes around, and Cora and Rachel were equally blown away by the luxury.
Now they’re nibbling tiny cakes and sipping more champagne as I try on dress after dress, although I catch Marilee looking at me with worried eyes occasionally.
A saleswoman is hovering behind me, a measuring tape draped around her neck as she pinches the waist of the gown I’m trying on. It’s a little too big, not least because I’ve barely been eating since Vito arrived. I’ve lost at least five pounds, if not more.
The dress itself is gorgeous, my favorite so far of the ones I’d tried on.
I’d be a lot happier about wearing it if the thought of the man I’m promising to marry tonight in front of everyone didn’t make me want to die.
It’s a gorgeous rose gold column gown, with sparkling black vines embroidered all the way up to the deep V of the neckline, seed pearls delicately hand-affixed to each of the flowers.
It suits my coloring perfectly, bringing out the pink in my cheeks and setting off my dark hair and eyes, and I want to love it.
But I can’t love anything about today. I just can’t.
“What do you think, Miss Gallo?” the saleswoman asks, eyeing my reflection in the mirror. “We can have adjustments made by tomorrow, and it will fit you like a glove.”
“I think it’s perfect,” Rachel says. “I love that color on you.”
“It’s the best one,” Cora agrees, and Marilee echoes her, but I can hear a hint of worry in her voice.
I sneak a look at Sebastian, who is sitting on the plush velvet couch some distance away.
His face is utterly blank as he looks at me, without a hint of desire or feeling.
My chest aches, and I turn back to the mirror, nodding.
“This one,” I say, with as much decisiveness as I can muster. “We’ll go with this one. Someone will come by to pick it up in the morning after the alterations are made.”
“We could add a little something, too,” the saleswoman suggests, reaching up to tap the straps at my shoulders. “A capelet, maybe, to add a bit of sparkle? This is a huge event, after all. You should look your absolute best. This is a chance to really show off your sense of style?—”
“This is fine,” I say, a bit more firmly than I intended. “I don’t need any extras. I’ll look for jewelry, maybe, but the dress just needs the alterations, and it will be fine.”
I see Sebastian shifting on the couch, out of the corner of my eye. I swallow hard, turning to head back into the dressing room. I can’t cry today, of all days. Not in front of my friends. Not when I know there’s already explaining to do, once the excitement of the day has worn off.
I told them on the way here that I was getting married—and not to Sebastian.
I saw the confusion on all of their faces, but I promised I was happy, and that I would answer their questions later.
The luxury of the car and driver and champagne and going to Marchesa to shop was enough to stave off their questions for now, but we’re supposed to go to lunch after this, and I know I can’t avoid it forever.
I just didn’t want to have the conversation with Sebastian right there, in the passenger’s seat, listening to every word. Every lie that I’ll have to concoct.
It’s bad enough that I have to lie to my friends at all, just to get a little more time with them before Vito locks me away from every vestige of my past forever, forcing me into the new future that he wants for me.
I pay for the dress, handing over the heavy credit card that Vito gave me, and I catch the flicker of envy on Cora’s face as she watches. “Lunch is on me,” I promise, picking up my purse. “The driver is outside.”
“I can’t believe you have a driver ,” Rachel exclaims as we leave. “That’s so fancy. I can’t imagine it. I have to take the bus to work every day.”
“I wish I could learn to drive,” I admit. “But it is nice,” I add quickly, seeing the look on her face. I should sound more grateful, I know. My life is incredibly rarefied compared to theirs, and I shouldn’t complain.
The other three girls climb into the car, Sebastian holding the door, and he stops me just as I go to get in. “Are you sure this has been a good idea?” he murmurs. “Having them here? They’ll have questions, and none of it will make sense?—”
“What? Seeing my friends?” I bite my lip. “Having something in my life before every moment of it is dictated by my new husband? I think it’s worth it.”
Sebastian pauses, and I know he’s thinking otherwise, but he just nods. “Alright,” he says finally, stepping back so I can slide into the car and closing the door behind me.
My eyes sting as we pull into traffic, but I force a smile onto my face for the sake of my friends.
That’s my whole life these days, it seems—forcing smiles, faking happiness, pretending to feel joy when I’m actually miserable.
Arguing with the only man I love, mourning my brother still, preparing for a marriage I don’t want.
The other three women save their questions, at least, until we’re seated at our table at the little bistro I chose for lunch, one of my favorite spots in the city. Sebastian takes a seat three tables away, and I see Marilee look in his direction, glancing back at me with confusion.
“The dress is perfect,” Cora starts to say, and Marilee gives her a quick shake of her head, focusing on me.
“It is,” she agrees. “But ‘Stel…what’s going on? You’re engaged? But not to Sebastian? I thought he was your boyfriend? And if you’re engaged to someone else, why is he still with you, following you around?—”
“He acts like a bodyguard,” Rachel supplies, her forehead creased with confusion, too. “I know your father is rich, and things are a little different for you, but this is weird.”
“And what about a ring?” Cora chimes in. “Your fiancé gave you his credit card, but not a ring?”
“He wanted to wait to give me the ring at our engagement party,” I explain.
“Which—I wanted to invite the three of you, I really did. But my dad wants it to be very small and intimate… which is his way of saying just the people who matter to him and his business.” I give the three of them an apologetic smile, my stomach twisting at the first lie.
The party isn’t going to be small in the slightest, but when I asked if my friends could be invited, my father gave me a firm no . There was no room for argument.
“That sounds romantic,” Marilee allows. “The bit about the ring, at least—not your dad’s idea of a party. But it doesn’t explain the rest of it. We saw you with Sebastian just a couple of weeks ago, ‘Stel.”
“Look… I…” I let out a breath. “I wasn’t entirely honest,” I admit.
“Sebastian isn’t my boyfriend. He never has been.
It was just a cover story, so that I could come to your birthday party and have a way to fend off any interested guys.
Like Tyler,” I add pointedly, when Marilee’s mouth drops open.
“I’m sorry I lied. I really am. It’s just…
going out like that isn’t something I usually do.
I was overwhelmed as it was, especially after my brother… ”
“Oh God, ‘Stel.” Marilee’s expression instantly turns sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I know that was a lot?—”
“I didn’t want to miss your birthday. My dad didn’t even want to let me go, but Sebastian and I figured out a way to sneak out and make it, and so he posed as my boyfriend.”
“So he is your bodyguard,” Rachel interjects. “Shit, Estella. What kind of guy is your dad, that you need a bodyguard?”
“An overprotective one,” I say quickly, before she can head down any train of thought that might lead her to the truth. “And one who is very old-fashioned. Which leads me to the engagement?—”