"For you," he said, setting it on the table with a flourish. "I remember you like this."
I took it. In that instant, I caught the trace of a scent that did not belong to me—jasmine and something darker, clinging to the collar of his shirt like a confession.
"Thank you," I said gently, setting it aside without opening it.
He was clearly pleased with my reaction and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me against his chest. I forced myself not to pull away, not to let my body betray the revulsion coiling in my stomach.
"Tomorrow we finalize the last procedures," he said, his breath warm against my hair. "Everything will be perfect. The alliance between our Families will be sealed."
"Of course," I replied softly.
He talked for a long time. Promises of the life we would build, the territories that would expand under our joined names, the children who would carry both bloodlines forward into eternity. His tone was sincere, like a well-rehearsed script perfected over countless rehearsals. I listened, nodding now and then, my face arranged into the mask of a dutiful bride.
Not long after he left, he hurried back again, the door swinging open without a knock.
"Almost forgot," he said, slightly breathless. "Tomorrow we have to do the final check. Family tradition—the blood oath confirmation before the union ceremony."
"All right," I agreed without hesitation.
My compliance visibly relaxed him. He touched my hair, offered a compliment I had heard too many times—you're so understanding, so perfect—then left once more, his footsteps fading down the marble corridor.
The moment the door closed, I finally loosened my clenched hands. Crescent moons of red marked my palms where my nails had bitten deep.
I went to the mirror and looked at my reflection. The face staring back was calm, obedient, showing nothing unusual. A woman prepared for her arranged alliance, ready to seal her fate with blood and vows spoken before the Commission.
But I knew it was only a surface.
In two days, everything would be over.
The next morning came just as abruptly, but without any warmth. Gray light filtered through the windows of the Corleone compound, casting long shadows across the polished floors.