The next morning, I was in my room when Mamma entered. "Cara mia," she said, her voice softer than usual, "your papá wants to speak with you." Her eyes, though, held a familiar knowing glint, a silent question mark hanging in the air, sensing my recent transgression. Papá never called me this early. "Mamma, I did nothing wrong," I said, smiling sweetly at her.
Mamma sighed, a delicate sound that spoke volumes. "I'm sure, tesoro." She rolled her eyes, a gesture we shared in private moments. "Come now. You know your papá doesn't like to be kept waiting." She waved a dismissive hand and walked out, a faint murmur of Italian trailing behind her, something about wishing her daughters weren't so selvagge. It brought back the memory of Isabella and me sneaking out to that party in the city. though it was Gabriel who drove us there, we got into so much trouble when papá found out, but he was way more angry at Gabriel for being a part of it. mamma said she wished we'd go shopping and charity events like girls our age. In our world, there wasn't much a girl could do apart from hosting or attending social gatherings and engaging in harmless pastimes. Professions that brought public attention or involvement in the family business were forbidden. Sometimes, a fierce longing for a normal life, normal friends, would grip me.
I descended to Papá's office, I found Luigi inside, "Ah, Camilla, you're here" papá said then nodded at him after handing him some papers and he walked out, flashing me his boyish grin before shutting the door. "Sit down," Papá instructed, his gaze direct. I smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles on my dress as I settled into the chair. Had he found out about last night? The thought sent a shiver of apprehension down my spine.
"Where were you last night, Camilla?" Papá's voice was low, serious. He leaned forward slightly, his usual warmth absent. "I went out with Pedro and Luigi," I said, the lie feeling flimsy even to my own ears.
His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "Don't lie to me. I sent Pedro and Luigi on business out of the city yesterday afternoon." A muscle twitched in his jaw.
"Papá, I—"
"I don't want to hear it," he cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. He ran a hand through his hair, a rare display of agitation. "You are becoming reckless, principessa, it is not safe for you to wonder around, and that is why..." He paused, taking a breath, "...that is why you are getting married." The finality in his voice was like a stone dropped into water, the ripples of shock spreading through me.
"But Papá—"
"No buts, Camilla. As a wife, you will have responsibilities, a household to manage. You won't have the time, or frankly, the opportunity, for these... escapades." He gestured vaguely, dismissing my nighttime wanderings. I had always known my freedom would be a short-lived indulgence, a stolen pleasure. That's why I seized every chance, with the help of my brother or cousins because God knows i wouldn't escape papá's security, I always told them I was going for shopping, but they knew I wasn't and they never complained because they were always around watching for my safety.
"Papá, please," I pleaded, desperation lacing my voice. Papá observed me intently, his gaze searching, as if weighing the impact of his decision. For a fleeting moment, I dared to hope.
He sighed, a sound that held a hint of weariness. "I will host an event on Saturday, you will have the opportunity to decide who you will marry."
A strange mix of relief and apprehension washed over me. In a way, this was better than being forced to marry some old geezer, like what happened to my cousin, Valentina. But the idea of choosing a husband still felt suffocating, since papá would have to approve, growing up, attending these parties were the things I hated the most. They were always filled with boring conversations, men eye fucking the women, and sometimes someone ending up being dead. I remembered last year at some event, a guy made some snarky comment about how tight my ass is and how it probably feel and Pedro shot him straight in the head, splaying his head matter on the floor.
"Go on," Papá said, his attention already drifting to the papers on his desk. "I have matters to attend to."
I stood and left the office, the weight of his words settling heavily in my chest, my thoughts a tangled mess of uncertainty.