Page 7 of Depths of Hunger

I want to laugh because it sounds so over the top and silly, but it’s not silly. It’s real, and my life might depend on my ability to get away.It’s exactly what I had been thinking in the ballroom. Escape. Australia was a good choice. I filed that away for further exploration.

I hug Pippa fiercely until my mother snarls, “Let go. You’re making a scene.”

I immediately release Pippa and step back. She moves to stand beside Luna. My mother approaches, her face a mask of disdain. She leans in to hug me, but I can’t bring myself to return it. She gives me a quick squeeze, and my father does the same. I keep my arms at my sides.

Then we’re in the limo, whisked away to… “Where are we going?” I ask as Renzo unties his bow tie. It suddenly hits me that I never asked about a honeymoon. The wedding had been thrown together in just a few months, which is unheard of for a wedding of this size. Getting four hundred people to be available on such short notice is crazy, but when the Valdici or Giordano families say to be somewhere, you show up.

Renzo ignores me, pulling out his phone and checking his emails.

“Where are we going?” I ask again, more insistently.

He remains silent, focused on his phone.

I’ve had enough. Zia Lina always said, “Start as you mean to go,” though she was talking about making a good wife by learning his favorite meals and cooking them. But I took it to heart. I’m not spending a lifetime with this man only to have him ignore me whenever he feels like it. No fucking way. If he thinks he can get away with that, his lifetime might be shorter than he anticipates.

I find the button I want on the armrest. I press it, and the divider between us and the driver starts to lower.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Renzo growls.

“Finding out where we’re going,” I reply, pressing the button again. “Excuse me?—”

Renzo leans over me, pushing my hand off the button and immediately raising the divider again. “You do what I say and only what I say.” He keeps me pinned to the seat, giving me a murderous stare.

“I want to know where we’re going. If you’re not going to tell me, then I’ll find out another way. If you think I’m going to sit in thecorner like some little mousy thing, speaking only when you say it’s okay, then you might as well kill me now because I will not put up with that shit. Not at all.” I glare back at him. I figure I have nothing to lose except my life, and at this point, it doesn’t look so great.

The corners of his mouth tilt upward. “There she is,” he murmurs, running a knuckle along my jawline. “I wondered when the real you would show up. All that polite chit-chat with a fixed smile—I knew it couldn’t be real. Not Sophia Giordano’s kid. Yourmadreis hard as nails. Yourpadrecould learn a thing or two from her. He’s weak by comparison. He needs her balls.”

Renzo isn’t saying anything I don’t already know about my parents, but it makes my stomach churn that it’s common knowledge.

The smile slips off his face as he grabs my chin. “Don’t mistake me for your father. I’m not weak. You’ll do what I say when I say it, or you’ll suffer the consequences.”

I bite down on my tongue to keep from saying something stupid. He doesn’t need any more provoking, and I don’t want to deal with the consequences—at least not tonight. I have to find out what they might be, and I’m not up to it now. I’m still half-drunk. I take a breath. “Where are we going?”

I can’t let him have the last word. It’s just not in my nature.Don’t show fear. Don’t show weakness.That’s what my mother taught me. Nothing about compassion or being a good person. Just how to survive and beat everyone else.

He lets go of my chin and settles back into the seat. “Home. My home here in Genoa. I don’t have time for a honeymoon. We can do that later in the year.”

I say nothing. I can’t tell if I’m relieved that we’re not off to some Caribbean Island or disappointed. I’m numb, but I have a million questions, the first being what the hell am I supposed to do about clothes? I didn’t pack anything. Never even crossed my mind with all the other pre-wedding crap I had to endure.

I glance down at my wedding dress. It’s a mermaid design with beading along the bodice, clinging to every single curve. Not something I would have chosen, but my mother said it would show off myfigure to the rest of the crowd. “Make Lorenzo proud that you’re his wife,” she’d said.

Whatever. I’m just looking forward to getting it off.

We pull up to the gates, which roll open smoothly. The limo sails through and circles a grand stone fountain before stopping in front of a marble staircase. The house is an imposing structure with ivy climbing up its stone façade. It’s the kind of place that feels cold and unwelcoming, even from the outside, with dark, heavy windows that seem to stare back at me. The driver comes around and opens Renzo’s door first, then mine. The breeze off the Ligurian Sea hits me, and I shiver. I didn’t bring any kind of jacket. In fact, I didn’t bring anything at all.

Renzo grabs my arm and hauls me out of the limo, catching me when I stumble. Without warning, he scoops me up into his arms.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I demand.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Carrying my wife over the threshold. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

“When have you ever done anything you were supposed to do?” I question, squirming in his arms. I don’t want to be carried. I want to be on my own two feet, with some semblance of control.

“There’s always a first time,” he replies with a ghost of a smile.

What does that mean? Does he know? My heart races as I think about the inevitable moment when he discovers I’m a virgin. This will be mortifying.

Renzo strides up the steps as if I weigh nothing, the massive oak doors swinging open as we approach.