Page 6 of Rosetti Family New York

"Emotions make you weak, my girl," he says. "Don’t let them cloud your judgment."

He doesn't understand that this is judgment, that I've measured the risks and found the path. It would be easier to run, to take Juliet and disappear, but he would find us. He always does. The mafia is just another tool in his hand, one that cuts deeper than I dare.

"I don't do emotions," I say.

"We’ll see," he replies. He picks up a folder from his desk, his attention already shifting. "Leonardo insists on meeting both of you before he decides."

I swallow, the idea of a meeting twisting the air even thinner. "When?" I ask.

"Tonight. Make sure you look...impressive."

I leave his study with the pressure of his expectations wrapped tight around me. I am resolved. I will be the one Leonardo chooses, and in doing so, I will keep my sister free.

Out of sight, I pause to catch my breath, running a finger over the thin gold ring on my hand. The one piece of my mother’s that he couldn't trade away. It turns under my touch, a small, silent rebellion.

I head for my room, knowing Juliet will be waiting. She's always waiting, full of hope and doubt and the quiet strength no one sees but me. I’ll tell her we’ll be fine.

And if I can make myself believe it, then maybe I am strong enough after all.

Juliet twists her hair with one hand and reaches into my closet with the other. Dresses fall to the floor, silks and cashmeres in limp defeat, until my room looks like a high-end yard sale."Eleanor," she says, her voice a thin wisp of pleading. "What happened to our plan to run? Let's do it. Right now. I’m ready."

I imagine the two of us out there, all desperate and romantic, until father finds us. He would, eventually, and there’s no telling what the Rosettis would do. I pick up then discard the silver-blue dress I wore to the O’Malley’s Christmas party. This time I need to impress a future husband.

"No running,” I say. “I never should have suggested that. I’m ready to grow up now, Jules. I’m ready to marry.”

Juliet sits beside me, clutching a pink tulle gown. Her hazel eyes meet mine. "If we just left—"

I force my words to be softer, gentler than I feel, because she needs that more than the truth. I push a white dress in her direction. "What about this one?"

Her lips tremble, trying to form an answer. Instead, she touches the edge of the fabric. "It’s...pretty."

Pretty. It’s a word I’ve learned to avoid. Our father calls us pretty like he calls us girls, never enough to be worth anything on our own. "And this?" I pull out an emerald silk. "Too dark?"

Her hands knot in her lap, fingers fidgeting. "I just wish—"

"We can’t wish our way out, Jules," I say, sharper than I mean to. She flinches, a small, pained motion that makes me pull her close, arms wrapped around her thin frame. "I’m doing this because I want to. I want to marry Leonardo Rosetti." The lie feels jagged in my throat. "All we need to do is get through tonight, make sure he chooses me."

"But—"

"We’ll be free if he does." It’s a promise I intend to keep. I let her go and step back, feigning a certainty I don’t feel. I am a perfect, well-cut gem in my father’s hands.

Juliet reaches for the emerald dress, eyes searching mine like I’ve left a clue. She doesn’t understand how well I’ve learned tohide them. "Okay," she whispers. "We’ll be free." It sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, too.

I take the silver-blue dress from the floor. "Help me with this?" I ask, slipping into the dress. It floats over my shoulders, cold and silken as the Price family touch. She pulls the zipper up.

"Are you sure it’s not too...icy?" She gives me a sad half-smile.

"Isn’t that the idea?" My laugh is brittle, a practiced note that I hope sounds convincing. "To show him what he’s getting?" My eyes catch the gold ring on my finger, the only rebellion I allow myself. I twist it once, just enough to remember it’s there, before forcing my thoughts back to the dress. "Unless you think Leonardo would prefer me in something else?"

Juliet bites her lip, a familiar picture of hesitation. "Something that makes you happy?"

Happiness. Another thing we’ve never had enough of. "He’ll want me because of what I’m worth, not what I like." My voice is thin.

"I don’t want him to have you at all." Her words come out quick, and she looks startled by her own honesty, a rush of color rising in her cheeks.

"Think of the connections,” I say. “Do you have any idea how connected the Rosetti family is? I could snap my fingers and have anything I want. No more relying on father’s charity.” I give her a deliberate smile, forcing it until it almost feels real.

The dress is smooth against my legs, but it hugs my ribs too tightly, and for a moment, I wonder if I can breathe through the pressure. The reflection in the mirror is a stranger: polished, confident, everything I need to be.