Merciless

Chapter 5, Part 1

Emi

"Emi, where are you going?"

Shit. I was hoping my dad would still be in his office and I'd be able to slip out unnoticed. Instead, he's in the breakfast nook eating a grilled chicken salad; a salad he finds to be personally offensive, if the disgruntled twist of his mouth is any clue. It's nothing new. Since his heart attack a year and a half ago, he's made his resentment of his overhauled diet well-known, but I don't care. He can pout all he wants as long as he stays away from all the pasta, rich meats, and oil-drenched bread that put him in that hospital room and nearly made me an orphan in the process.

Popping my phone and lipstick into my black clutch, I smile and try for a casual tone. "Just out with a friend, Daddy, it's no big deal."

His rapier gaze takes in my appearance before he raises his famous dubious brow. Okay, so I don't exactly look like I'm about to meet Graham, one of my instructors and friends, for a non-fat latte at the nearest Starbucks. If that were the case, I'd be in yoga pants and a comfy top with my hair in a messy bun and no makeup. As it is, I'm wearing a little black dress, heels, and gave myself a blowout and a smoky eye. I'm trying to at least appear like I belong with a hot-as-hell guy like Austin. Sue me.

The look I'm getting from the all-knowing Vincenzo DeLuca is that he knows I'm full of shit but is choosing to remain silent because it doesn't need to be said. Which is to say, he doesn't approve of my "friend" date. And to underscore this fact, he brings up the one thing that's sure to put me in a sour mood.

"I have good news about Marco."

Marco Moretti: only son of my father's oldest friend, my childhood playmate turned tall-dark-and-handsome CEO-in-training...and my betrothed.

I mentally wince every time I think of the B word. Who knew arranged marriages were still a thing well into the 21st century? Although, I suppose "arranged" isn't exactly accurate. More like emotionally coerced.

"His father tells me he will be back in Chicago at the end of July."

End of July? I thought I had longer. His paid internship at the Italy branch of my father's company wasn't scheduled to end until September.

"Why is he coming back so early?" I ask, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

Dad sits back and picks up his glass of red wine—one of his habits that he'd been allowed to keep once daily—and waves dismissively with the hand holding his fork. "Everything is fine. In fact, he has excelled in the program. There is nothing more he can learn there that he cannot learn here."

"That's great, Daddy. I'm not surprised, he's a smart man."

"Sì, he will make a good husband for you. I cannot wait to finally see the two of you joined together, piccola principessa."

Little princess. The smile on his face and his childhood endearment for me is made of the stuff that sealed my fate. I love my father with all my heart, and when I thought I was going to lose him...God. Blips from the ambulance ride and those awful hours in the hospital hit me. Residual fear still rises whenever I think about it. I'd do anything to make him happy and free of the stress the doctors warned could bring on another heart attack. Even agree to marry a man whom I love as a friend with the hope that I can grow to be in love with him someday. After all, it's not exactly like I have a ton of other prospects—I've had zero luck in the relationship department—and Marco is an amazing man who's had feelings for me since we were seventeen. A life with him won't be anywhere near horrible.

But it also won't be the fairytale I'd always hoped for; the kind my parents had and the kind my father used to want for me before he decided he needed to write my happy ending for me.