That night, Dante and ate our first meal together as a
couple.
I meant that in the loosest sense of the word.
I wore his ring, and we lived under the same roof, but the chasm between us made the Grand Canyon look like an ordinary hole in the ground. I made a valiant attempt to close it.
"I love your art collection," I said. "The paintings are beautiful." Except for the one that looks like cat vomit. The piece, titled Magda, was so out of place in his gallery I did a double take when I saw it. "Do you have a favorite piece?"
It wasn't the most inspired topic, but I was grasping at
straws. So far, I'd pulled six words out of Dante, three of which had been pass the salt. He was basically two
devolutions away from being a nicely dressed mime.
"I don't play favorites." He cut into his steak.
My teeth clenched, but I swallowed my irritation.
Since our less-than-stellar interaction during my move-in,
l'd moved past the shock and anger stages of our
engagement into resignation.
I was stuck with Dante, whether I liked it or not. I had to make the most of it. If we didn't...
Images of cold days, lonely nights, and fake smiles filled my head. My stomach tightened with unease before I took a sip of water and tried again. "What are your expectations in private?"
His knife and fork paused over his plate. "Excuse me?"
A noticeable reaction. Progress.
"Earlier, you said we'll play the part of a loving couple in public and warned me to, quote-unquote, get rid of any romantic notions I may have of us falling in love. But we never discussed what our private lives would look like beyond separate bedrooms," I said. "Do we eat dinner together every night? Discuss our work problems? Go grocery shopping and argue over which brand of wine to buy?"
"No, no, and no," he said flatly. "I don't grocery shop."
Of course you don't.
"We'll live our lives separately. l'm not your friend,
therapist, or confidante, Vivian. Tonight's dinner is simply because it's your first night, and I happen to be home." His knife and fork moved again. "Speaking of which, I have a business trip in Europe coming up. I leave in two days. I'Il be gone for a month."
He might as well have slapped me in the face.
I stared at him and waited for him to tell me it was a
joke. When he didn't, a surge of indignation washed away my attempts to play nice.
"A month? What type of business trip requires you to be gone for a month"
"The type that makes me money."
The indignation fanned into anger. He wasn't even trying. Maybe the business trip was legitimate, but I move in, and he leaves for a month? The timing was too convenient to ignore.
"You have plenty of money already," I snapped, too
annoyed to mince words. "But you clearly don't have an interest in even being civil, so why are you here?"
Dante cocked an eyebrow. "This is my house, Vivian."
"I mean here. This engagement." I gestured between us. "You avoided my question the first time, but I'm going to ask again. What could you possibly get out of our match that you couldn't get on your own?"
Lau Jewels was a big company, but the Russo Group
eclipsed it tenfold. It didn't make sense.
My father told me it had something to do with market
access in Asia, which was admittedly Lau Jewels's strong point and the Russo Group's weak one, but was that important enough for Dante to upend his personal life for?
His expression stiffened. "It doesn't matter."
"Considering it's the reason we're together, I think it
does," I argued.
"No, it doesn't. Why do you care about the reason we're
together?" His voice turned cold, mocking. "You'll marry me either way. The dutiful daughter who does everything her daddy says. I could be gone for the next year until our wedding, and you'd still go through with it. Wouldn't you?"
An icy claw of shock snatched the breath from my lungs. I didn't know how the conversation had escalated so quickly, but somehow, without trying, Dante had hit me right in the ugliest, most undesirable part of myself. The part I loathed but couldn't shake.
"Now I understand." I fought for calm, but a tremble of
anger bled through. "An arranged marriage is the only way you could get someone to marry you. You are so...so..." I struggled to find the right word. "Horrible."
Not my best work, but it'd do.
Dark amusement slid through his eyes. "If I'm so horrible, then tell your family the wedding's off." He nodded at my phone. "Call them right now. We'lIl move you back into your apartment like this never happened."
It was equal parts challenge and seduction. He didn't
think I would do it, but his voice was so rich and coaxing it almost compelled me to obey.
My fingers curled around my fork. The metal dug into my skin, cold and unforgiving.
I didn't touch my phone.
I wanted to even more than I wanted to toss my wine in Dante's smug face, but I couldn't.
My father's anger. My mother's criticism. The failure if I didn't go through with the wedding. I couldn't do it.
Dante's amusement disappeared into the atmosphere. Something sparked in his tense eyes.
Disappointment? Disapproval? It was impossible to tell.
"Exactly," he said softly.
The finality of that word cut deeper than a freshly honed knife.
We finished dinner in silence, but my steak had lost its
flavor. I washed it down with more wine and let the warmth eat away at my shame.