Page 58 of Vow of Desire

“Remember: don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

“I won’t. I promise.” But I can sense that my promise is a lie and I hate myself for it.

Neither Joan nor her husband come to greet us. Instead, they immediately walk over to some other guests and join the conversation. Joan is trying to embarrass me, I realize. Punishment for when I slapped Alexandra.

Let it go, I remind myself. Let it go.

I converse with other guests about life and business and the weather. All mundane boring things but it’s sort of nice. I need mundane after everything that has happened.

My father arrives and latches himself to my side. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine. I’m throwing a party as you can see.”

“I can see.” He gazes around the room before looking at me. “You look so… grown up right now.”

“Are you going to cry?”

A rueful smile crosses his lips. “I’ll try not to. I am proud of you, Luciana. You should know that. I’ve always been proud of you. That has never changed.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You still call me that.”

“It just slipped out,” I admit.

“You can always call me that. No matter how old you get.”

Now I’m the one in danger of crying. “I love you.”

“Are you safe? Happy?”

“I’m getting there. I’m trying to be.”

He nods and blinks rapidly like he’s holding back tears before clearing his throat. “Well, I have some other people I should go say hi to. Enjoy the evening.”

“That was so touching,” Joan’s condescending voice is loud behind me.

I spin around to find her smirking at me. Matteo is across the room, talking to other guests, but right now, I wish he was right beside me. Helping me. My scary, intimidating husband who’s not so scary or intimidating as before.

“What do you want, Joan?” I ask. “You showed up here uninvited.”

“No. If I recall, you did invite me.”

“But you declined.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “None of that matters now. I’m here. So is my husband.”

“I saw that.” I pause, waiting for her to say more and when she doesn’t, I say, “Did you need something?”

“No. Nothing. At the moment.” It’s not until she walks away that I realize her words sound threatening.

The dinner party continues into the dining room. Everyone takes their seats. The sounds of awe as the chef I hired brings out the food makes me feel proud. Roasted lamb and duck. Green beans in a creamy sauce. Artichoke stuffed potatoes. Red or white wine, depending on what each guest chose.

I sit up straighter in my seat with a smile. It feels good to finally do something right.

Everyone digs into their food. Compliments are thrown my way about how delicious everything is. Pride swells within me.

Until Joan stands up, drawing all of the attention to herself. “I’d like to make a toast.” She raises her white wine high. “To Luciana. To her wonderful party. Even if the lamb is a little dry.”