Chapter Seventeen
Emi
My heart is in my throat as I rush past my father, ignoring his request for me to stop. I can’t believe I let this happen. I never once considered my father would seek out Austin, but that was a foolish miscalculation. I’d been counting on my father’s arrogance to feel it was beneath him to approach a man he thought insignificant to my future. But I should have known better. Vincenzo DeLuca wouldn’t let things play out when he could tug on a few puppet strings and make everyone dance to his tune. Clearly, that meant surprising Austin—and me—with an unscheduled visit from the man he wants me to marry.
Marco’s not supposed to be back for another month, but I’d bet my studio that as soon as my dad suspected I wasn’t going along with his plans for me, he called his longtime friend and requested he send his son back to the States early. The tactic was dirty and manipulative, and I’ll definitely be having a discussion with my father he won’t like, but I’ll deal with him later. My first priority is salvaging things with Austin.
He shoves through the swinging doors of the kitchen, almost mowing over a waiter holding a tray of food over his head. I give up trying to be polite or not cause a scene and start pushing my way past the guests as I race to catch up with him.
It kills me that he probably thinks the worst of me right now. My father and Marco probably gave him the impression that I’m willingly engaged and essentially cheating on my fiancé with Austin. Something that couldn’t be further from the truth. I have to fix this. I can’t lose him. Not now, not ever.
Bursting through the edge of the crowd, I hurry into the kitchen. It’s like a different world in here. Gone are the sounds of tinkling of glasses and muted chatter accompanied by elegant orchestral music. In here, the clanging of pans and serving trays and shouted orders between chefs and waiters are underscored by the rock music coming from a radio in the back corner.
“Austin, wait!” I call across the steel prep tables as I rush to follow his long strides eating up the space. “Please stop.”
Finally, he lets me catch up to him. When he turns around, his fists are clenched at his sides and his gaze is fixed over my head. “It’s better if I leave. You still have responsibilities here tonight, but there’s no reason for me to be here.”
“Yes, there is. I want you here.” Grasping at straws, I add, “You’re my date.”
Icy green eyes lower to mine, the color reminding me of frost-covered grass. “I’d think your fiancé should probably have that honor.”
The accusation is a direct hit and knocks the wind out of me. Aware of the gossip-mongers pretending not to listen all around us, I grab his hand and pull him into the nearest office. After closing the door and dropping the shades over the large window that looks out onto the kitchen, I turn to Austin, whose crossed arms tells me he’s not in the most receptive mood right now. But I can’t let him leave without telling him everything, so I drop all my guards and lay myself at his mercy.
“I should have told you about Marco.”
He snorts. “You think, Emi?”
“I know it looks bad, but he’s not really my fiancé, not in the normal sense of the word. I didn’t think it was relevant information at the time. You and me, we weren’t supposed to be serious, we were only temporary. And it’s not like this is a normal situation. It’s not even a normal engagement. Hell, it’s not even an engagement!”
“Then what the hell is it?”
“Honestly? It’s an old-fashioned betrothal. An arranged marriage, for all intents and purposes.” He frowns, and I can’t blame him. If I hadn’t grown up in the world of antiquated customs from foreign countries, I probably wouldn’t believe it either. “Our fathers are old friends, long before either of them came to the States. They’ve been playing matchmaker with me and Marco since we were little.”
“That doesn’t explain how they succeeded.”
I take a deep breath and release it slowly, trying not to let my emotions choke me. “My dad was the one who found my mother on the floor of our home studio. She’d had an aneurism while dancing; fine one minute, gone the next. Her death broke something inside of him—he became a different person, distant and joyless. He no longer supported my dancing, afraid I’d end up just like her, so I quit the ballet and switched to teaching. It helped repair the rift between us, but not entirely.
“Then he had his heart attack, and it was like this huge wake-up call for both of us. I’d lost my mother so suddenly, but for some reason I hadn’t considered I could lose him just as easily. But where it made me focus on appreciating the present and doing everything I can to make sure he stays healthy, it made him focus on the future. Specifically, what will happen to me if he’s gone.
“He became obsessed with securing my future, and eventually he started talking about me marrying Marco. I put him off for several months, but one night we got into a shouting match about it. His blood pressure went through the roof, and he clutched his chest as he dropped to his knees. It scared the hell out of me. I made a deal with him that if he took better care of himself, I would marry Marco.”
“Do you love him? Do you love Marco?”
“No! I mean, I do as a friend, but nothing more than that, Austin, I swear.”
“Then why the hell would you agree to marry him? Help me understand!”
I throw my hands up in frustration. Whether it’s more with the situation or myself for ever going along with it, I’m not sure. “I don’t know. I’d never connected with anyone before and I didn’t know if I ever would. I’ve known Marco my entire life, it’s not like my dad was pawning me off to some stranger. If it gave my dad peace of mind to know that I’d be taken care of and wouldn’t be alone—meaning it kept him from a stress-related heart attack—it seemed like a small price to pay.”
I stop talking. I feel like nothing I’m saying is helping. I’m not getting to the heart of the matter, which is the only part of any importance. “But that was all before I met you. A man who challenged every concept about life I’ve ever had,” I say, taking a small step in. “Happiness, sex…love. All of those things held very different meanings before you forced your way into my life.
“And now I can’t go back to the way things were. That’s what I wanted to talk to my father about this past week. That I have no intentions of marrying Marco because you are the one I want to be with.”
For a split second, hope shines in his eyes, but just as quickly, it’s snuffed out. He exhales heavily and turns away from me to look out the window facing the rear parking lot. If I wasn’t able to see him clearly from his reflection in the glass, I could pretend that he isn’t wearing a look of utter defeat. “You want that now,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “But it won’t last.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true. Why would you think that?”
“We come from two different worlds. I live comfortably, but I can’t compete with what Marco can give you.”
“What Marco can give me,” I repeat in disbelief. “I don’t care about material things, Austin, that’s not enough.”
“He’ll make you happy, Emi. He loves you.”
“That’s not enough for me either.”
He turns to face me, and again I’m taken aback by the anger radiating from him in waves. Before tonight I’ve never seen Austin like this. He’s always so sweet and perpetually charming unless we’re role playing, and even then, he’s never pretended anything close to this. “I’m not good enough for you. I’ve never been good enough for you.”
“How can you say that? Austin, you’re the best man I’ve ever known.”
He clenches his jaw, making the muscles in his cheeks tic. “If I was the man you think I am, I wouldn’t fantasize about violating you. I wouldn’t get off on hearing you beg me to stop or promise to be good to avoid my threats.”
“Austin, no,” I say, stepping into him. I place my right hand on his chest and cup his face with my left—one to feel where my heart beats inside him, and the other to hold his gaze steady to mine. “You once told me that sometimes you think you try to do good things as a way of atoning for the parts of you that are bad. But you’re wrong. You do those things because you are inherently a good man. And if you want to get technical, even when you’re acting like the bad guy you’re doing something good, because you’ve given me the kind of sexual freedom I never thought I’d find with anyone.”
Austin encircles both of my wrists and removes my hands, severing our physical connection as he hacks away at our emotional one, bit by bit. “Why can’t you see that I’m trying to do what’s best for you?” he asks, frustration making his voice rise.
Equally frustrated, I raise my voice to match. “Because if being without you is what’s best for me then I want no part of it.”
“Damn it, Emi, you deserve to be treated like a princess.”
“No, I deserve to be treated like a doll!”
He flinches like I hauled off and slapped him with that word, but I don’t care. I love it when he uses “princess” as an endearment for me, but he needs to get over the idea that I’m royalty compared to his hired help or whatever the hell he thinks. My affluent upbringing does not define who I am. I do. And if I want to be his doll then I damn well will be. He doesn’t get to give me that gift and then take it away.
His broad shoulders sag as the anger leaches out of him. I study his face, searching for a sign of what it’ll be replaced with—defeat like earlier, hope for our future together, regret from things he said—but it’s completely blank, devoid of any human emotion.
Except in his eyes.
His beautiful green eyes fill with unshed tears, and I know.
I know that this is over, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Aside from the tears now streaming down my cheeks, I appear the same as when I arrived tonight. But on the inside, anguish is tearing me apart, leaving behind a raw, bloody mess and a mangled heart.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he leans in. I close my eyes, reveling in the warm press of his lips against my forehead and the smell of his cologne before he steps back and delivers the killing blow.
“Goodbye, Emmélie.”
And with that, my knight walks out of the room and out of my life. I never expected him to save me—I’m a modern-day girl who can save herself—I just never expected him to abandon me.
Swiping the tears from my cheeks, I storm through the kitchen, back to the ballroom to find my father. If I thought I’d find him worrying about what he’d started, I was wrong. He’s in the middle of the room with Marco and several of their associates, laughing and eating unhealthy appetizers from a tray he must have confiscated from one of the waitstaff.
“What did you say to Austin?” I demand, pushing my way into their circle.
“Emi, now is not the time.” He pointedly looks at the men around us, who are now shifting uncomfortably. “We can discuss it later.”
“No, we’re going to discuss it now. We can do it here or out in the lobby, your choice.”
My father excuses us, giving Marco a reassuring pat on the shoulder—I don’t know how big his part in this is, if any, but I’ll talk to him later—then he leads me to a quiet alcove off the main entrance to the venue.
I don’t waste time. “Tell me what you said to him.”
“I merely told him the truth. That you are engaged to be married to Marco. That he can give you a much better life than a spogliarellista maschio.” Male stripper.
“Oh my God, tell me you didn’t insult him like that.”
“Insult him. How can I insult him? It is what he does, no? He insults me by thinking he is good enough for my daughter!”
“Daddy, he’s also a firefighter. He’s a real-life hero, for God’s sake! And it wouldn’t matter if his only job was stripping or if he was a garbage man. What he does for a living has no bearing on anything, least of all you.”
“You agreed to marry Marco, to ensure your future.”
“And you agreed to take care of yourself, to ensure your future, but how many times are you eating and drinking things you shouldn’t when I’m not around?” At least he has the decency to look embarrassed about that. “Austin makes me happy. I love him, not Marco.”
“He is not a match for you. I will not give you my blessing.”
“I’m not asking for your blessing, Papà. This is my life, and I will be with whomever I choose. I understand that you only want what’s best for me, but what’s best has nothing to do with a man’s background or what’s in his bank account. What’s best is my happiness, and no one controls that except me.”
“Marco can make you happy. He loves you very much, piccola principessa.”
“If that’s what truly mattered to you, you would have welcomed Austin with open arms. He was my Happily Ever After, Papà.” The knot in my throat is growing, and if I don’t leave soon, it might close up completely. “But you might as well have ripped out the back pages and set them on fire with that stunt you pulled. Congratulations, you won. I’m not with Austin anymore.”
I wait for him to apologize, to admit fault or try to make amends for what he’s done, but the stubborn set of his chin tells me all I need to hear. Nodding to myself, I make the toughest decision of my life. “I’m moving out. I think it’s time we both learn how to live without being each other’s crutch, and I need time to forgive you.”
“You would choose that man over your own father?”
“No, Papà. I’m choosing myself above everyone else.”
“Emmélie—”
I don’t give him the opportunity to plead his case or tell me I’m being ridiculous. I just turn and walk away as I feel my heart break for a second time tonight. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m going to do once I get there. All I know is that whatever I do, it’s going to be on my terms. The two men I love most in this world have failed me. My heart may be in a hundred jagged pieces, but one by one I’ll put them back together, and if I’m lucky, someday it might even beat again.