“Yup. No more problems.”
“Good.” The line goes dead as Ethan hangs up. The man is not one for small talk.
I flop back onto the bed, ready for a nap, but less than a minute later, my phone rings. No rest for the wicked.
"Hello?" I stifle a yawn as I answer.
"Cara." The woman on the other end of the line isn't asking a question.
"May I ask who's calling?" I'm suddenly awake. I don't like unknown callers.
"It doesn't matter. There's a taxi waiting outside for you. If you know what's good for you, you'll get in it immediately."
"Who is this?" I ask, now angry. I may not be in charge yet, but I don't take orders from just anyone.
There's a sigh on the other end of the line. "My name is Victoria. I'm Dante's mother."
It's a long taxi ride out to the countryside. I think of all the things I'd rather be doing than going to meet Dante's mother, and it's a long list. Taxes, jury duty, feeding live cobras...pretty much anything, really. The taxi driver seems to be clueless, trying to make small talk with me while I'm clearly upset.
I text Aunt Sophia, but I don't get a response.
I wore my pencil skirt and a smart blouse, not really dressing up but hoping that I don't come off as a total slob. The whole way there, I think about what she could say. It clearly won't be good, her tone made that clear. Still, what's the worst that she could do to me?
When the car turns into what must be the driveway at the biggest mansion I've ever seen, I know I've arrived. The whole place screams old money. As we pull to a stop, a butler opens the door to the taxi. "Right this way, Miss Savio," he says to me. To the taxi driver, he says, "Wait here."
He leads me through corridors that seem to flaunt wealth at every opportunity. I don't recognize any of the paintings or statues, but it's obvious that they're all expensive. My current job has let me have a taste of wealth, but the displays in this house make me look like a pauper. The butler leads me to a library of some sort, full of old books. "Mrs. Russo will meet you here."
From that point on, it becomes a waiting game. I know she's looking in on me, looking for any reaction and enjoying making me uncomfortable. I sit demurely on an embroidered couch, but I can't help but be impatient. I have things to do, and the last thing I want is to be here. I keep looking at my watch, realizing that she's probably enjoying watching me get frustrated at the lost time, but I can't help myself.
After twenty minutes pass, I let out a loud sigh. The voice in my head, always the voice of reason, says This is just a power game to her, and you don't have time for it. I don't need this, even if she is Dante's mother. I head for the door and open it, trying to remember how to get out of here. The butler looks at me in surprise from the hallway. "Mrs. Russo will be with you shortly, please return to the room."
"I have more important things to do than wait forever," I say sharply. He doesn't react and I realize that he probably gets attitude all day from the people who live in this house. He's a working man, just like me. I smile and immediately act sweeter. "Thank you for your hospitality, sir. Please let Mrs. Russo know that the next time we meet, it will be on my terms."
I start to slip past him, but stop. There's a painting on the wall, one of a man staring out at sea. It seems to paralyze me. I see myself there, commanding the very water of the ocean. I could be that powerful.
I'm about to leave wh
en I hear footsteps behind me. "I thought you had important things to do," a woman's voice says.
I shrug without looking back. "I have time to admire art."
She stands next to me. I can smell her perfume before I see her, and it makes her smell old and rich. Her red dress is flattering, but again screams more money than taste. "Then you have time to talk to me, too."
"What do you want? Or did you just want me to see your expensive artwork?" I motion to the painting. The waves seem to move as the man commands them. Whatever she paid for that painting was worth it.
She grimaces and I get the feeling that this isn't a topic that she wants to talk about. "No. I asked you here to tell you that you cannot marry Dante."
I nearly laugh. “That's up to the families. I thought you wanted this marriage.”
“My husband wants this marriage,” she corrects me. “I know Dante. I want him to be happy. And that isn't with you. You marry him, and I'll make sure your life is miserable.”
I stare at her in disbelief. I don't really have many options here. I can marry Dante, be happy, but she'll make my life miserable or I can leave Dante, be sad, and my family will make my life miserable.
It's a pretty easy choice for me to make.
“You really should discuss this with my aunt and uncle,” I tell her. “You should probably talk to your husband about this as well.”
She grimaces as I call her bluff.