The marriage promise. It was signed by my father on one side, Giovanni and Sergio Agosti on the other. My signature was not required. All I had to do that day was nod from behind a blue veil.

“I was already here for this,” I say. “I’m not doing it again.”

“Goody,” Massimo hisses, but I’ve already turned on my heel and walked toward the nearest exit, which leads to a cold, narrow stairway up.

Sergio’s as silent as a cat when he grabs me at the bottom of the stairs.

“You don’t gotta be like this.” He growls in my face without a honeypop or sugarcake to spare. I try to pull away, but he’s got me too tight.

“I’m not here for this ceremonial slavery. Because that’s all I’ll ever be to you. A slave. So I’ll do what you tell me. I’ll get on my back and open my legs, but I’m not going to look at you. I’m not going to touch you unless you order me to. I’m not going to smile about it. I’m not going to be nice. I’m going to burn all our dinners and wash the sheets in gasoline. I’m going to turn up the heat in summer and open up the windows in January. I’m going to make your life a living hell.”

He smirks. Steps close. I move back until I hit the wall. He brushes his thumb across my lower lip.

“The mouth on you, babymuff.” Sergio tsks, then kisses me, holding my head still as I punch and twist. His tongue pushes into my mouth. I try to bite it off, and only succeed in getting him off me.

“Don’t do that again.”