Of volume lineage

If a fight did break out, I wouldn’t blame either of the combatants. I was about to act violently in a second if another Vigliano cooed over my upcoming nuptials. My temper shimmered beneath my skin, growing hotter and hotter the more I had to smile and repeat polite sentiments.

“I need a minute,” I murmured under my breath to Uncle Angelo.

His eyes glanced to me. “There’s a bathroom to the left. I’ll cover for you.”

I kissed his cheek, gri

I leaned my forehead against a shelf, trying to focus on my breathing.

Emotions swirled in my chest, so strong and potent that my throat tightened like I was being choked. Anger and irritation and exhaustion mixed to create a cocktail of wrath. If I were to paint myself right now, my insides would be scarlet and exploding off the side of the canvas.

How was I going to take down Giova

“Isabella.”

I snapped my head to the side.

Giova

The hair on the back of my neck stood up as his empty eyes roamed over me. Maybe.

“What are you doing up here?” I spluttered, cheeks red.

“I had to take a phone call,” he said. “Shall I escort you back to the party?”

My anger was still close to the surface. That was something everyone with a bad temper could relate to. We knew when we were close to losing control.

I looked at Giova

“No. I’m…I’m just having a moment.”

“A moment?”

I nodded. “A moment.”

His expression remained unchanged. His eyes fell to the engagement ring on my finger: a Lombardi family heirloom. The engagement ring was meant to be brought by the groom or even passed down in his family, but this wasn’t your average engagement–besides he had no family heirlooms. Lorenzo’s legitimate children had those.

Giova

“My auntie’s ring,” I said when the silence continued.

He didn’t comment. Instead, he went on to say, “I shall see you downstairs after your moment is over.”

Giova

He paused.

“About dress shopping.”

“Dress shopping?”

“I wanted to ask if Marzia wanted to come. She…It might be good for us. To spend some time together.”

Giova

“You will have to ask her,” he said.

The awkwardness in the air was so potent I felt suffocated by it. My future husband didn’t seem to notice.

“Anything else, Isabella?”

I wished he would stop saying my name.

“No, I’m good. I’ll ask Marzia about dress shopping.”

Something flickered over his expression. “No one has respected you enough to tell you this, Isabella, but I hope you don’t expect a traditional partnership. I have been married once before and have little time to accommodate the needs of a young girl.”

“Young girl?” The words ripped out of me, my face flushing as my fury rose to the surface. “I am not a child–!”

“I did not tell you this to infuriate you, Isabella,” he said, tone never changing. “Your family has fed you expectations about this marriage and I am refuting them. Would you prefer I lie to you? Entertain your fantasies of a husband and daughter?”

I opened and closed my mouth, trying to simmer my temper before saying something that would get me killed. It didn’t work.

“I know my duty in this marriage,” I bit. “I also know you need me if you want to be king.”

“I already am king.” Giova

Blood roared in my ears, so hot, so red, that I couldn’t hear anything except for the fury inside me.

He left before I could say something I would really regret.

 

It took me a good twenty minutes to calm down after my conversation with Giova

I squeezed my fists so tight that my nails split the skin of my palm, which forced me to wipe the blood away in the bathroom before going back to the party. Mother had encouraged that behaviour, insisted I bury my wrath inside myself instead of letting it go. It usually ended up with me accidentally maiming myself.

When I returned to the party, the air was still filled with tension. Lombardis and Viglianos continued to mix. It was wrong but I suddenly longed for a fight–it would give me a chance to give Giova

Uncle Bartolomeo found me first. “Where have you been?” Before I replied, he said, “Come and sit down. Di

I was placed between Marzia and Uncle Angelo. Giova

“There is still no news on your nephew?” Giova

My brother had disappeared with our parents. He was my father’s heir; I bet Giova

“A lot of people defected,” Uncle Bartolomeo said diplomatically. “I’m sure they will come to their senses soon.”

Beside me, Marzia was scribbling on a napkin, looking bored. I understood the feeling.

“That’s a nice bird.” I gestured to her drawing.

She frowned. “It’s a pterodactyl.”

“Oh.” Being a stepmom is going to suck, I thought as I held out my palm. “Can I have a turn?”

Marzia eyed me before passing over the tiny pencil. I folded out my own napkin and tried to recall my third-grade lesson on dinosaurs. She watched keenly as I sketched out the bird-like creature.

“It needs a pointy beak,” she told me.

I did as she instructed, giving the drawing a pointy beak. “Like that?”

“Yeah.” Marzia adjusted herself so she was sitting on her legs, allowing her to lean over the table better. “You’re really good.”

“I like drawing,” I told her.

“I like dinosaurs.”

I sent her a smile. “Which one is your favorite?”

“From the Triassic era, it’s the Coelophysis,” she said before outlining all her favorites from the different eras. She stumbled over a few of the words, but I remained impressed with how much she knew.

When she stopped to catch her breath, I interrupted. “I want to ask you something.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“I’m going dress shopping in the next few weeks. Do you want to come? You can pick out your flower girl dress.”