I will meet Adrian tonight.
He's coming to the villa to be introduced to me, and I'm anxious. As I sit in front of my mirror, combing through my pale blonde hair for the hundredth time, I try to picture what Adrian will be like. My heart beats faster than ever as I imagine all the scenarios in which I could find myself in a few months. Will he be kind? Cruel? Will he hurt me?
My skin erupts in goosebumps and I shake my head to get the thought out. I can't allow myself to get turned on thinking about him. I don't want to be too obvious. I don't want him to know how eager I am to get away from the villa, to run away from my controlling father. There's a part of me, quietly warning me that Adrian could do the same thing to me. Keep me under lock and key, force me to be a recluse, lock me up.
But at least I'll be far, far away from my father.
The betrayal of that thought chills me to the bone. I shiver and put my hairbrush down, critically examining my reflection.
My blue eyes shine with hope. My lips are quivering. My body looks perfect – all those meals Papa made me skip have kept me thin and petite, just like he wanted. On the outside, I'm the perfect bride-to-be for Adrian Bernardi. No one will know better. No one will ever know I'm just playing a role.
There's a knock on my door, and a maid enters, smiling at me. "It's time, signorina Nicoletta."
"Coming," I whisper, picking myself up. I smooth down my dress and follow her down the hallway, downstairs into the dining room where Papa hosts his guests. My heart beats into overdrive, threatening to rip through my chest. But I force myself to calm down, keep my eyes timidly trained on the floor. I keep walking until I'm in the room, feeling the presence of others before me.
"Ah, Nicoletta!" Father says brightly. "There you are."
I raise my eyes and smile timidly at him before noticing the other two men in the room. My stomach swirls when I see him. He's tall, broad-shouldered, and wears his hair long, messy. His expression is troubled as he stares me down and I bow for him, introducing myself.
I don't realize my mistake until the other man corrects me. My cheeks are burning with shame as I realize that I mistook the other man for Adrian.
"Sorry," I whisper, turning to face the right man. He's just as handsome, his skin covered in menacing ink. But he doesn't make my heart race. Doesn't make my body react the way it did to the other man, the one I soon come to find out is his brother, Ryder.
I'm left alone with Adrian for a while, and do my best to muster the enthusiasm I felt when I thought his brother was the groom. But Adrian seems to notice my hesitation. He asks me to pretend we've gotten engaged. I can tell there's something on his mind, too. Something that's preventing him from committing to our engagement fully. I'm almost grateful for it, because I feel the same way.
With our plan to keep the truth under wraps, Adrian and I say our goodbyes. A maid escorts me back to my room, and I slump on the bed in my beautiful dress. What a mess. I've just completely embarrassed myself... and yet I still can't stop thinking about my groom's brother.
Ryder. Ryder Bernardi. Why does he seem so familiar? I've never met him before. I would've remembered that sullen, beautiful face.
My fingers itch to reach between my legs. To push aside the white lacy panties I have on and toy with what will soon be Adrian's property. But I don't want to think about my husband-to-be. I want to think about his brother.
Instead, I push up from the bed and throw open the doors to the balcony. But instead of the cool night air I’m expecting, I catch a mouthful of smoke. Cigarette smoke.
I step out onto the balcony and find the offender on the floor below me. There's a room beneath me with a small terrace and that's where I see him, dragging on a cigarette and staring up at the moon.
It's him. Ryder. My tummy flutters all over again as I stare at him from my vantage point.
"I can feel you fucking staring," he hisses without turning to look at me. I feel goosebumps erupting all over my body and fight the urge to hide back inside my room. Instead, I clear my throat and pick myself up so I'm standing with my back straight.
"I hope you aren't smoking in your room," I tell him stiffly, feeling like the biggest prude of all. "Papa wouldn't like that."