Page 1 of Unworthy Ties
Chapter 1
Gabriella
Ispun around my room in excitement, my heart pounding at a rhythm akin to the most rousing symphony. The wallpaper, splashed with vibrant daisies, seemed to dance alongside me, its cheery pattern swirling into a kaleidoscope of color.
Today was the day I was getting engaged to Felix Marchioni, AKA the man I had been pining over for years. Since I was ten or so, the sight of the man had sent me into either fits of stutters or giggles.
Where did I even start with how perfect this man was? His eyes always held a twinkle that could outshine the stars. His laugh, a melodic harmony that echoed through the room and made me feel as if I were flying through an ethereal cloud of joyfulness. Felix was everything—dashing, funny, charming, and above all, kind.
It was a crush that had always seemed unreturned; like I was just some kid who was in his peripherals. It was an all-consuming tale of love that I thought was destined to remain in the margins of my life.
But, in a twist of fate, my father had called two days ago and told me I was “getting married to the Marchioni boy.” I screamed in excitement, but before I could ask more questions, he hung up the phone. I had tried to call him back multiple times, but the only response was via text: “I’ll be home in two days.”
An arranged marriage wasn’t the way I saw our love story going, but Felix just did not seem the type to settle for a loveless union. No, this had to be a sign of his own affection, of feelings long concealed. He—hopefully—had asked specifically for me. The thought sent my heart into a riotous frenzy of hope.
Those two days had passed, and now there were exactly eight minutes until he and the Marchioni family would pull into our family’s estate.
I decided I didn’t want to risk being late—even though the foyer was a two minute walk away—and headed downstairs. I skipped out the door and through the hall, unashamedly humming the wedding march.
“You’re not being shy about it, are you?” my younger sister, Fiorella, had heard me tromping down the hall and was waiting in her doorway.
I scoffed. “My biggest dream in life is about to come true. What’s there not to be excited about?”
“Your biggest dream in life is an arranged marriage to Felix Marchioni?” She crossed her arms and leaned against her doorframe. “That’s depressing.”
Fiorella could be a downer. Her insides had a tendency to match her outsides—which was all black lipstick and studded belts. I brushed it off, trying not to take it personally.
“In fact, it’s more than a dream. It’s destiny,” I responded, examining each cuticle to make sure they were in place.
“Right,” she said. “Well, try to be more subtle about your ‘destiny.’ You might scare him away before you even get to the altar.”
I rolled my eyes, pressing my lips into a thin line, before retorting, “Fiorella, just because you’re too cynical to understand love doesn’t mean I have to be.”
“It’s technically a business deal,” she deadpanned.
I didn’t argue that point, because she wasn’t wrong. All arranged marriages started with business in mind—but I was ready to turn this one into a love story.
A sudden chorus of car horns snapped me out of my thoughts. Out the grand bay windows, a fleet of sleek, black cars were pulling up in our long driveway.
Shit. I had been talking to Fiorella for too long and hadn’t kept track of the time. Now, I wasn’t waiting downstairs like I had planned.
“Looks like your prince charming has arrived,” Fiorella said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I didn’t respond as I power-walked as fast as possible towards the foyer. Running wouldn’t do—it would mess up my hair and makeup I had hired a celebrity stylist for.
I descended my family’s grand stairs just as the doors to my home opened and everyone walked in. When I saw him, time stopped. Felix stood among the crowd of people who flooded in, taller and somehow more vibrant than I remembered. He was dressed in a sharp navy suit that complemented his dark hair and olive skin. His eyes—deep pools of emerald—met mine, and a smile spread across his face.
I tried to return it with a smile of my own, but I was too busy trying not to pass out from fangirling about how he had just smiled at me.
Rocco Marchioni, Felix’s twin brother, cleared his throat, and I snapped out of my trance. He stood next to his brother, andalthough they were identical, he looked terrifying in his suit rather than handsome.
Felix must have gotten every good gene in the womb. He was charming and charismatic, while Rocco scowled at anyone he got within ten feet of. I probably hadn’t said more than ten words to him ever, and I had known him my whole life.
“Gabriella,” Elio, the head of the Marchioni house and the twin’s father, said. “Good to see you.”
“Nice to see you as well.”
“Gabriella,” my father said. “Come with us to the sitting room.”
