Chương 2
She stepped backward.
Bianca gave an exasperated breath and raised the clippers.
“I said I can fix it.”
Rosalie moved first.
Alessandro was faster.
He rose, covered the distance between them, and took Bianca’s wrist before she completed the step.
He did not squeeze hard enough to hurt her.
He did not need to.
“Give me that.”
Bianca stared at him.
“Alessandro.”
“The clippers.”
Her face changed as she looked at his hand around her wrist.
Two bridesmaids had appeared in the corridor behind him.
Neither entered.
Bianca noticed them.
Her voice dropped.
“People are watching.”
“Then give them to me.”
She released the clippers.
Alessandro took them and moved between Bianca and Livia.
For the first time that morning, Bianca looked frightened.
Not frightened of physical violence.
Nothing in Alessandro’s posture suggested that.
She looked frightened of losing control of the room.
“Touch my things again and the wedding is over.”
Bianca blinked.
“Your things?”
The words came quietly.
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
Behind him, Livia made herself smaller against Rosalie.
He heard it.
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
“My daughter,” he said.
“That’s what you meant?”
“I meant you don’t touch anything that belongs to my family without permission.”
“Your daughter is not a thing.”
“No.”
Bianca gave a short, unbelieving laugh.
“Because that is exactly how you just described her.”
Alessandro stared at her for a moment, and the anger in his face acquired something less comfortable.
Shame.
He turned toward the vanity.
The black clippers were still humming faintly in his hand because Bianca had switched them on again.
He pressed the power switch, but his thumb slipped.
The buzzing continued.
With a sudden frustrated movement, he threw them onto the vanity.
They struck the marble top hard enough to knock over a perfume bottle.
A powder compact spun to the floor.
Someone in the corridor gasped.
Bianca recoiled and dropped into the pink chair behind her.
The clippers skidded through a row of cosmetics and stopped beside a silver tray holding Bianca’s earrings case.
“Jesus, Alessandro.”
One of the bridesmaids disappeared from the doorway.
The other remained for another second before backing away.
Alessandro looked at the scattered cosmetics.
His breathing had become audible.
Rosalie had never seen him throw anything in front of Livia.
Apparently he had not intended to see himself do it either.
Livia stared at him.
That was enough.
His shoulders lowered.
He turned toward her.
“I’m sorry.”
Livia said nothing.
“For that,” he added.
“I shouldn’t have thrown it.”
Bianca sat rigidly in the chair.
“You’re apologizing to her?”
“Yes.”
“What about me?”
He looked at Bianca.
A tiny shard had broken from the perfume bottle’s glass stopper, though the bottle itself remained intact.
He picked it up carefully and placed it on the vanity where nobody would step on it.
Then his attention fell to Bianca’s left hand.
The engagement ring flashed beneath the warm bulbs.
Bianca saw where he was looking and tucked her hand toward her skirt.
“Don’t.”
Alessandro’s eyes lifted.
“Take it off.”
Her face emptied.
“Don’t do this because you’re angry.”
“Take it off.”
“We are supposed to be downstairs in forty-five minutes.”
“I know.”
“My parents are already here.”
“I know.”
“There are two hundred people in this hotel.”
“I know, Bianca.”
Her breathing shortened.
“You said the wedding was over if I touched her again.”
Alessandro glanced toward Livia.
The child stood beneath Rosalie’s arm, one side of her long hair still reaching almost to her waist while the other ended in a jagged section above her shoulder.
“You already did.”
Bianca looked down at the ring.
For several seconds, she seemed unable to move.
Then Alessandro extended his hand.
She covered the ring with her opposite palm.
“No.”
The word was barely audible.
He did not reach for her.
“Bianca.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled, though the tears remained held along the lower lids.
“You do not get to humiliate me in front of the staff because a child is upset about a haircut.”
Rosalie stiffened.
Alessandro did not.
“That sentence is why I’m asking.”
Bianca looked toward the doorway, perhaps hoping for someone to intervene.
Nobody did.
The corridor had gone strangely quiet.
She pulled at the ring.
It caught against her knuckle.
Her fingers began shaking.
“Damn it.”
She twisted harder.
Alessandro reached toward her hand.
Bianca hesitated, then let him.
He held her finger steady and slid the ring over the swollen knuckle in one controlled motion.
The diamond rested in his palm.
He placed it beside the discarded clippers.
Bianca stared at the two objects together.
Her lips parted.
For once, she seemed to have no defense ready.
Behind Alessandro, Livia touched the shortened side of her hair.
“Daddy?”
He turned immediately.
She looked from him to Bianca and then toward the fallen lock on the floor.
“Are we still getting married?” she asked.
Nobody corrected the pronoun.
Alessandro looked at her for a moment before understanding what she meant.
Livia had never spoken about the wedding as something that belonged only to him and Bianca.
For six months, every fitting, tasting, flower sample, and seating-chart argument had been presented to her as a family event.
We are getting married had become the phrase Bianca used when she wanted Livia excited about dresses and photographs.
We are getting married had also been the phrase Alessandro used when he wanted to reassure his daughter that nothing important was being taken from her.
Now Livia stood with half her hair hacked short and stared at the adults as if she had somehow misunderstood the arrangement.
“No,” Alessandro said.
The word landed softly.
Bianca’s head lifted.
Livia’s eyes moved between them.
Alessandro crouched again so she would not have to look upward at him.
“Bianca and I are not getting married today.”
Livia swallowed.
“Because of my hair?”
“No.”
Her mouth trembled.
He reached for her hand and stopped before touching it.
“May I?”
She nodded.
May you like
He took her fingers carefully.
“This is because of what she did after you told her to stop.”
