The bridal veil in my hands was older than I was, a yellowed mess of lace that came apart under the needle like it wanted to be ruined.
I mended it anyway, because that was my job, and because my aunt could hear a dropped needle from three floors away.
Ottavia: Put that down. Go upstairs and put on the blue dress, the good one.
My needle stopped in the cloth, because Ottavia never dressed me up for anything less than a funeral.
I asked her why, and she smiled at me the way she smiled at a good sale.
Ottavia: Because a man is paying to look at you tonight, and you'll stand there and let him.
I laughed, because she was cruel in her usual way. She didn't laugh back.
Ottavia: Don't sit there like a stupid little bitch. Aldo signed the papers. You're the payment.
Aldo stood in the doorway with his cardigan hanging open, and he wouldn't look at me, and that was worse than any slap he'd ever given me.
Aldo: It's only a contract, Nico. It's only on paper.
Ottavia: Get the dress on before he waits too long. He doesn't wait, and we can't afford what he does when he's insulted.
The shop smelled of cold wax and old stone, and Dario Malvagi was the only thing in it I couldn't look away from.
His eyes went over me slowly, and they didn't hurry, because he already knew what I cost.
Ottavia: Here she is. She's clean, she's untouched, and she mends better than anybody in this city.
I wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole, and it didn't, so I stood there and let her sell me by the pound.
Dario: Leave us.
My aunt, who raised me, who taught me to pray, walked out and left me in the room with him.
His hand closed around my wrist and pulled, and I went, because my feet were too slow and too stupid to fight him.
Then the curtain, and the long shelves where the bridal veils hung, white and dusty and waiting.
He turned me and pushed, and the metal rail bit into my back, and my wrist was already going red under his fingers.
Dario: You're shaking. Is that fear, or are you just that holy?
I looked up at him and told him I wasn't afraid of him.
It was the biggest lie I ever told in a church supply shop, and he knew it before I finished saying it.
Dario: You should be. Not for yourself. For Carina.
Everything in me went cold and quiet at once, because he said her name like he had a receipt for it.
Dario: She works my club. Her mother's medicine is my money. One word from me and she's out on the street with a debt that follows her.
Dario: And I've seen what men do to a woman who owes them. Have you?
My mouth opened and nothing came out, because I believed him. All of it. Every ugly word.
A decent God would have struck him down right there, and He didn't, so I had to stand in the dark and take it.
He leaned in, and I could have turned my face, and I didn't.
He kissed me on the mouth, hard and warm and far too long, and I felt every second of it in my knees.
My hand came up to shove him off and then just stayed on his chest, curled in the wool of his suit.
I leaned in. God forgive me, I leaned in, and he made a low sound against my mouth like he'd won something.
Dario: So fucking innocent. You taste like a prayer, and you kissed me back.
Shame went up through me like hot water, from my stomach to my face, and there was nowhere to put it.
Dario: Tell Ottavia to dress you properly.
Dario: And if you run, I won't chase you. I'll take Carina instead, and you'll hear about it after.
He let go of my wrist. The marks were already there, four of them, going a deeper red by the second.
I went upstairs with my penance half sewn on the table and my whole future signed in a stranger's hand.
Carina, I thought. How do I warn you without getting you killed?