Page 151 of Peasants and Kings
I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Do you want to stay here and live this life, Gisella?”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you want your family to decide who you marry and for what reason?”
“I don’t have a choice, Sterling.”
“Yes, you do.” I took a deep breath. “When Hadrian comes for me, I’ll have him pay restitution to your family or whatever to—”
Her expression hardened, making her look older. “You’re delusional if you think that. What happened when my father found out you existed? You—half Moretti, with tainted blood. If Hadrian thought that he had enough money and power to save you from this, then he was wrong. My father will not let me marry a commoner, or even a powerful Italian of my own choosing. Don’t you get it? We don’t have a choice. We’re women.”
Gisella stood up, visibly upset. She scrambled to pick up her shoes. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Sterling, but I think you’re not fully aware of the situation you’re in. Hadrian isn’t coming for you. Based on everything you’ve told me about him, he would’ve been here already. So, what happened to him? Think about that and be honest with yourself.”
There were only two options: He’d decided not to come for me, or he was dead.
When she saw my face, she nodded. “Exactly. You get it now. I admire your unwavering belief in him. I do. But really, Sterling. At this point you’re just being foolish.”
She took her heels and went to the door. “Raphael is coming here in a few days. Hadrian isn’t coming to save you, and your child…accept the truth.”
Gisella went to leave and then turned the lock and opened the door. Before she headed out, she threw me a look over her shoulder.
Pity.
A sixteen-year-old girl pitied me.
After the door shut, I took a moment to myself. Whispering to hear the sound of my own voice I said, “I’m not delusional. He’s coming.” I slid a hand across my stomach and looked down. “He’ll come for us both. You’ll see.”
Days passed in a whirlwind of morning sickness and wedding plans. I kept to my room, refusing Gisella’s overtures of friendship.
I felt stupid for confiding in a teenager—not because I thought she’d blab to her father about what I’d said, but because I couldn’t stand the naked sorrow on her face every time she saw me.
It only strengthened my resolve.
Maybe Iwasdelusional. But if I didn’t have faith that Hadrian would show up and save me, then I had to contemplate the horrors of marrying Raphael Foscari.
The day before the wedding finally arrived, and there was still no sign of Hadrian.
I graced the stone steps of The White Company mansion, flanked by Luca and Tor. Angelo and Nico stood above me at the crest of the short staircase. We appeared a united front as the Foscari band arrived.
A line of black town cars drove up the long driveway and Raphael was the first one to climb out. I made no move to step down and greet him. Fear curled through me.
With a not-so-subtle prod from Angelo, I slowly descended the stone steps to approach Raphael.
I wasn’t physically strong enough to handle a man like him, and he’d already tried and convicted me of my mother’s crimes. On top of that, I would marry him with another man’s child in my belly.
With that realization, I knew what my future held. He’d ensure I lost this baby, impregnate me as soon as he could, and when I gave him his desired heir, he would find a way to get rid of me.
When I stopped in front of him, he reached out and grasped my hand, pulling me to his side. His touch wasn’t gentle, and I had to stop myself from flinching. “I’ve missed you,mia dolce.”
I swallowed my revulsion and forced a docile smile.
We walked up to the steps of the mansion. Raphael held out his palm to greet Angelo. Angelo took Raphael’s arm in his grasp, but his jaw was clenched taut from my obvious reluctance to greet my fiancé.
Raphael’s three younger brothers had come with him. After the introductions were made, we all went to the salon to partake of refreshments.
Conversation was stilted and formal. Gisella shot me another commiserating smile that I ignored.
“You’re looking pale,” Raphael said, reluctantly pulling my attention from surveying the room. His hand was tight on my elbow as he steered me to a corner where we had a bit more privacy. “Are you still carrying that reprobate’s baby?”
