"Where have you been since yesterday?" my mother asked as I walked into the dining room. The air was filled with the scent of espresso and burnt toast. My mother was seated at the head of the table, a porcelain cup in her hand, sipping her coffee as she read magazines.
I forced a smile as I sat down beside her, pouring myself a cup.
"I was with Rosalina," I replied. "We were studying."
She didn't look up at me but instead remained focused on the newspaper in her hand. Taking a sip of coffee, I slowly nodded at the taste.
"What are you reading?" I asked. It was unlike my mother to sit in the dining room reading magazines.
She took a sip of coffee and finally looked at me
"Politics," she replied. "The paper says someone got himself killed. A gang dispute, they claim. A shame, isn't it?"
I hummed in response, pretending to care as she blabbered on while I enjoyed my coffee. The warmth calmed me down.
All of a sudden, her phone rang, cutting through the silence, and she picked it up.
"Sì?" I immediately recognized the shift in her tone, and I knew it was about business.
Not wanting to be part of it, I stood up and began heading for the door.
"Gina," my mother called before I could open the door. I stiffened and slowly turned around to see her face, hard as a rock.
She set the phone down and gave me a look that sent chills deep into my bones.
"Gianna," she said. "Who were you with last night?"
"I told you," I said. "I was with Rosalina."
She tapped her red-manicured nails against the table and slowly leaned back.
"Someone saw you with a boy last night."
I swallowed hard.
"It was just a drink," I said, breaking out in a cold sweat. "He was no one important."
"Your father will be home tonight."
"You're going to tell him?"
She didn't answer, only picked up her newspaper and started reading. My heart began to beat fast.
"You'll tell Father, and he will cut him into pieces," I said, having nervous thoughts.
Mother stared at me hard, and I could feel my blood freezing cold. If only I knew we would be seen, I wouldn't have insisted on meeting Renzo last night. He had always been strong headed and would often joke about not being afraid of my Father. But I knew my father very well. The minute he heard about Renzo, he would make him disappear.
I spent the whole day in my room, watching movies and trying to forget what happened. But when I heard a knock on the door and a voice saying my father called for me, I knew I was in trouble.
I met my father in his study room, seated on his sofa.
"Piccolina," he said, and I sat down. There was a cigar in his hand, and he slowly dragged in smoke.
"Papa"
"Your mother tells me you've been keeping company with a certain boy," he said.
I forced myself to look him in the eye. "His name is Renzo."
"And who is this Renzo boy?"
I wanted to lie because if my father had information about Renzo, then he would be dead. But lying to my father was another thing because he would find a way to get the truth.
"He helped me fix my car once. He works at his uncle's garage."
Silence.
"He has nothing to do with us, Papa."
His jaw tightened. "You were seen with him at a motel last night."
I sucked in a panicked breath. My palms dampened with sweat, and I could feel my heart drumming fast.
"I love him," the words slipped from my mouth.
"You love him?"
I lowered my gaze. "Yes."
"A mechanic's son?" he questioned, his voice rising high. "A boy who has nothing to offer? Do you think he wants you?" he asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. "No, Piccolina. He wants you for the flashy cars and lavish life. And he'll take what's between your legs while he deceives you."
"Papa—"
"You are Gianna Bellucci! My own daughter! And that means something. You don't get to disgrace this family's name."
"Papa, he isn't a threat to anyone. He isn't part of a gang."
"He is weak and pathetic. And do you know what happens to those?"
My eyes widened, and I quickly shook my head. "No, you can't hurt him. Please, Papa."
He turned his gaze away from me, taking his phone and speaking into it. "Find the boy and bring him to—"
"No!" I yelled, rushing to his feet. "Please don't hurt him. I will do anything. Anything, Papa."
He slowly lowered his gaze to me. "You say anything?"
"Anything, Papa."
"You dismissed the idea of leaving for England to finish your studies," he said, and tears began to burn my vision. "But that will change now."
My heart sank. "What?"
"You will go to the best university in England. You will study and forget about the Renzo boy," he said.
More tears burned my vision, and when I couldn't hold them back any longer, they rushed down.
"Papa, please..."
"Leave now."
....
One Week Later
As the car drove down the highway, I sighed for the sixteenth time since we started our journey.
I wore big black glasses that hid the redness and tears in my eyes.
My mother was seated close to me, perfectly composed as always. She was on her phone, attending to business matters as always, like she wasn't shipping her daughter off across the country.
I raised my head, and the airport was already in sight.
"You're sulking," Mother said for the first time.
I slowly turned my head to the side, taking off the glasses from my eyes and wiping the tears away.
"I was only sixteen when my father set me up for marriage," she said. "You, at least, are going for studies, not marriage."
More tears rushed down my cheeks.
"You'll be fine, Gina," she said. "When you return from England, your father has plans for you."
I slowly shook my head.
"I'm sure he'll have you marry into a noble family."
"Papa will make Renzo disappear."
"Renzo is nobody. He only cares for the money and what your name brings. The moment he hears you're in England, he will move on with his life."
I slowly shook my head, wiping away the tears.
She leaned closer. "One day, you'll understand everything."
I sniffed the tears back as I continued to stare at her.
I looked away from her. When the car pulled up, I opened the door and stepped down.
"Gianna," Mother said, and I turned to her. "I love you."
I didn't respond. Instead, I followed the men arranged to take me to England. They escorted me toward the private jet, and I felt my heart grow heavy with dread. I was leaving the country.
I thought of Renzo. I thought of my best friend, Rosalina. I was only allowed to say goodbye to her over the phone. I couldn't even speak to Renzo after everything, as my phone was heavily monitored.
The moment I stepped inside the jet, I felt shivers. There were already men seated inside, and when I looked at them clearly, I realized they weren't my father's.
One by one, they lifted their guns toward my men.