Veronica
After lunch, Robyn started to unpack the ornaments while I went up to my bedroom to change clothes. They’d still made us wear our uniforms this morning, even though most of us were just going home for the holiday. I felt sorry for the few students who spent the holiday at school.
I was at the top of the stairs when I realized I’d forgotten my purse in the foyer. I went back down to grab it, mostly wanting to check my phone for messages, when I heard a low, deep male voice I didn’t recognize.
“It’s done, old man.”
I froze at the bottom of the stairs. Old man?
“You cannot do this.”
My grandfather’s voice was stern, his tone angry, rattled. I’d never heard him like that before. He always spoke quietly, never raised his voice, didn’t need to. In his late sixties, he was still a formidable man.
My mother had been his only surviving child, and I remembered well the night I’d met my grandfather. Our parents had never brought us here, and Robyn had been a baby when he’d come to our house one evening. I could almost feel the panic that had emanated from my mother. He’d stood in our hallway, too tall, too big almost for the place. When he’d looked at me, his hard expression had sent me scurrying to hide behind my mother’s legs. We’d been sent to bed, but I’d known the exact moment he’d left. I hadn’t been able to sleep that night, not for the sudden fear I felt at the sound of my parents arguing, my mother crying.
“You did it, old man. You brought this on yourself.”
I guessed the unknown person was Stefan Armando.
Heavy footsteps echoed off the marble floors. I stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs. I couldn’t make myself move, even though I knew I should. Holding tight to the banister, I don’t think I breathed as the stranger came into view.
He didn’t see me at first, he was so deep in thought. His face, tight and hard, betrayed his feelings, but he looked different than I’d guessed he would.
“Armando!” my grandfather roared.
Stefan Armando halted.
I must have made a sound because he turned his head. When his eyes met mine, I gasped and clung to the banister. A cold chill iced my veins. He was younger than I expected. Much younger. And… beautiful. Never before this moment had I described a man as being beautiful. He was tall with dark hair and olive skin, with steely blue eyes that didn’t seem to fit with his dark features. They pierced me through, spiking me where I stood, so that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have moved. I don’t think I breathed for as long as he held my gaze. I could see the anger raging, burning behind the ice of those glacial eyes.
“Veronica.” My grandfather stopped short when he saw me. He didn’t say hello. He didn’t smile.
The stranger’s gaze slid over my uniform before returning momentarily to my face. Then he looked away, releasing me from my prison.
“Go to your room.” Although Grandfather spoke to me, his eyes remained on the man.
I opened my mouth to speak, wanting to say something, anything, against the command more fitting for a five year old.
I saw one side of Stefan Armando’s mouth curve upward as he watched me.
“Now!” Grandfather barked.
I turned and bounded up the stairs, forgetting the reason I’d come down in the first place. Everything seemed suddenly so inconsequential.
“Six months, old man. I’ll be back then to take what’s due me.”
I heard Stefan Armando say that right before I reached my room. The front door opened and then slammed shut. I went to my window, saw Stefan climb into the backseat of the SUV, and watched as it disappeared toward the property gate.
An hour later, my grandfather sent for me, summoning me into his study, a place I’d only been invited into a handful of times. When I walked into that dark room, I found him sitting behind his large, antique desk, his face gray, his eyes like steel.
I’d imagined a different sort of reunion after four months away at school. I hadn’t even come home for the Thanksgiving holiday. Although life was never any different here, even during the holidays. At least I went away to school. Robyn had to live here. I sometimes didn’t understand why he wanted that, why he bothered with the private piano lessons for her. I never got the sense he wanted to encourage it or her-he’d never been that kind of man-but once he’d discovered her talent, he’d hired her the very best teachers. I didn’t like leaving her behind. Didn’t like the feeling of my little sister unprotected and alone here without me. Thank goodness for Marjorie.
“Close the door and sit down, Veronica.”
A deep sense of foreboding settled like a cement brick in my belly as the door clicked closed behind me. I took the seat he pointed to. He’d barely looked at me when he’d said it, and when he spoke, it was more like a business transaction than a handing off of his granddaughter to a stranger. I learned who Stefan Armando was, at least what Grandfather was willing to tell me. I learned my fate. A future decided for me, the reasons for which I was not allowed to know. And as my heart grew heavier and my stomach felt like it would heave the lunch I’d eaten, I knew my life would change-had already been changedirrevocably.
I didn’t even hear him after a while. He spoke almost on autopilot, like the cold, heartless machine he was, and all I could imagine, all I could picture, was a deep, dark canyon and me standing on a cliff that crumbled beneath my feet, moments from falling into the chasm, my life forfeit.
Six months.
I had six months before he’d come to take me.
I was the thing Stefan Armando felt he was due.
I was what he meant.
He’d come on my eighteenth birthday. The same day as my graduation from St. Sebastian. What should be a day of celebration would become the day of my sacrifice. Because I no longer belonged to myself. My life had been traded, exchanged. And I belonged to him now.
My grandfather, a man who should protect me, would give me to a stranger.
With the meager details Grandfather allotted me, I wasn’t sure whom to hate, whom to blame, whom to pity. All I knew was that in six months’ time, I would be taken out of my home and forced to marry Stefan Armando, to become his property, the payment of a debt my grandfather owed.
The image of the two of them in the hallway came to mind. I’d never seen a man stand nose to nose with my grandfather. Stefan Armando hadn’t cowered. The opposite. He’d stood in my grandfather’s house as if it was his. As if he had every right to it. And he’d told my grandfather what he would do, leaving no room for discussion, no doubt as to what would happen.
Any man who could cause my grandfather to yield was formidable.
I knew Stefan Armando was a man to be reckoned with.
And in six months’ time, I’d be his.