Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 86325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
"But I don't deserve that," I whisper brokenly. Oh, if only she knew who Papa and I really are, deep down, where it matters most. "I don't deserve your love."
"How can you say that? Look." She pulls out a brooch from her dress. It's pretty – a cameo in pale pink. She pulls out the pin and unceremoniously pinches her fingertip with it until a droplet of blood blooms on her skin.
"No!" I cover my mouth. "Please, our fathers will be so angry with me!"
"They won't even know," she waves her hand dismissively. "Give me your hand."
Reluctantly, I offer my best friend my hand and wince as she pierces my skin with the needle. She presses her fingertip over mine, a serious expression on her pretty face as she looks deep into my eyes.
"Now we're really sisters," she whispers in my ear. "For ever."
"Nicoletta!"
We both startle at the sound of the voice.
"Quickly," I nod. "Lick your finger clean so they don't notice."
We both do it, concealing all traces of our little pact and sharing a small conspiratorial smile. I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I have a friend. Otherwise, my world would be ever so lonely.
* * *
I wake up from the dream, startled. When I realize I've been dreaming about her again, I stifle a groan and pick myself up from the bed. My sleep was restless and somehow I'm more tired than I was when I laid my head on the pillow. But this is customary for my sleep. I haven't caught a wink of rest for years... these days, my dreams are always plagued by either memories... or nightmares.
I don't know which is worse.
The Bernardi maid, I believe her name is Mia, enters my suite and blinds me as she pushes the curtains back. She helps me get up, and I take a long shower, shampooing the length of my waist-length blonde hair. After I'm done, she helps me get ready, drying my hair and curling it into perfect ringlets that make me look younger and more innocent than I'd like to be. But Papa likes my hair this way, and I'm not stupid enough to disobey him.
Mia prepares a dress for me – another one that hides everything except the top of my chest, where my breasts have been pushed together in an almost old-fashioned way. With these outfits Papa insists I wear, I feel like a character out of a romance novel. I can't wait to be married, solely because I'll have the freedom to wear anything I want. Well, whatever my husband deems appropriate.
I flush as Mia applies my makeup. I don't want to think about marriage and about my wedding. After all, I'll be marrying a man I feel nothing for... the true fire that burns bright within me is meant for my groom's brother.
I shake my head to get the thought out. I feel ashamed. My thoughts are impure and deserve punishment. But I'm not stupid enough to tell anybody how I really feel. I'm sure Papa's punishment for it would be swift.
Mia leaves me in my room. At least I have some books here, borrowed from the Bernardi library. Papa didn't used to let me read – he always said a well-read woman is an insolent, dangerous thing and there is no place for that in a mafia famiglia. But because Papa isn't here now, I have a bit more freedom with my time, and I start turning the pages of a gothic romance I've found on the shelves here with gusto.
Mia arrives again an hour later, this time carrying a note card on a silver platter. She hands it to me without further ado and leaves again. Setting my book down, I curiously regard the thick cream paper embossed with the Bernardi coat of arms. I tear into the paper and my eyes widen as I read the words written in Ryder's handwriting.
Nicoletta,
Meet me in the gardens in thirty minutes. I have a small surprise for you.
-R.
And just like that, I'm beaming. Delighted someone has remembered I'm here. My groom has paid more attention to that captive girl than he has to me, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out he would rather have her take my place as his bride. But for now, I'm not going to expose him to my papa. I'm sure Adrian has noticed I'm much more intrigued by his brother too, but he hasn't said anything. It's only wise I do the same kindness for him.
I pull on my boots – a sharp contrast to the innocent dress and ringlets, but there was a light shower last night and I don't want to get muddy in the gardens. Carefully hiding the card underneath my pillow where Papa won't ever find it, I head off into the gardens. I'm surprised Mia doesn't join me – it's customary for a girl of my status to have a maid constantly present, but she's nowhere to be seen. I suppose Ryder's supervision is enough... even though it shouldn't be, because his mere presence fills me with fluttering butterflies and feelings I shouldn't have for my fiancé's brother.