Chapter 3: The Aunt Who Expected Obedience
“Giovanni Fierro,” the woman said.
He straightened—not startled, exactly, but as if her voice had reminded him of a rule he’d spent the evening trying to ignore.
“Aunt Elena,” he replied.
Her eyes moved to me.
“Jessica Hale,” Giovanni added. “Sophia’s sister.”
He didn’t call me his wife. It was a small thing, but I noticed.
Aunt Elena’s gaze traveled over my face, my dress, and the hand Giovanni had already released when the song ended. She took in the nearby guests, too—their carefully averted eyes and the way their conversations had gone quiet without quite stopping.
“So,” she said, “this is the unexpected development.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I said.
Aunt Elena’s expression suggested she wasn’t accustomed to people saying that to her.
“I mean that I arrived expecting to find my nephew alone.”
“And instead you found me,” I said.
“Yes.”
There was no warmth in the word. Still, she didn’t sound angry, either. She sounded like someone examining a change to a plan.
Giovanni shifted beside me.
“Aunt Elena—”
“Did you introduce her as your wife?”
The question landed between us.
I kept my eyes on her. Giovanni had asked me to pretend. Then, without asking, he’d introduced me to strangers as his wife. He’d already admitted that was wrong. I wasn’t going to help him make the lie smoother.
“He did,” I said.
“And are you?”
“No.”
A guest near us stopped moving a champagne glass toward her mouth.
Aunt Elena’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “I see.”
“You asked,” I said. “I answered.”
Giovanni glanced at me, but didn’t interrupt.
Aunt Elena turned to him. “You’ve been very clear about what you expect from other people tonight.”
His jaw tightened.
“That’s fair,” he said.
It wasn’t an apology to me, not exactly. But he didn’t argue with her or try to make me look unreasonable.
Aunt Elena looked back at me. “How long have you known my nephew?”
“Not long.”
“Long enough to agree to this?”
“I agreed to one dance. I didn’t agree to be introduced as his wife.”
“Then the two of you have different recollections of the evening.”
“We don’t,” I said. “He knows what I agreed to.”
Giovanni lowered his gaze for a moment.
Aunt Elena watched him do it. Something in her face shifted—not surprise, precisely, but recognition. She’d seen him make that expression before.
“Let’s be precise,” she said. “You are not married.”
“No.”
“And you have no intention of claiming otherwise?”
“No.”
“Good.” Her attention returned to Giovanni. “You heard her.”
“I did.”
“Then you know what you have to do.”
The words sounded less like a suggestion than an instruction.
Giovanni’s shoulders settled into a stillness that made him look older than he had across the dance floor.
“I know,” he said.
Aunt Elena held his gaze for another second, then studied me again.
“Why did you agree to dance with him?”
“I didn’t know who he was.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. She wanted an answer, but I didn’t owe her a history just because she had arrived with questions. I didn’t know what Giovanni had told her, or what she expected to hear from a woman at his side. I wasn’t going to fill in the blanks for either of them.
“I agreed because he asked me for help,” I said. “I didn’t know what it would mean to him, or to everyone watching.”
“And now?”
“Now I know he made a choice without my permission.”
Giovanni didn’t look away from me.
Aunt Elena gave a slight nod, as if I’d answered more usefully than she’d expected.
“Jessica,” Sophia said softly.
She stood just behind me. The wedding dress, the flowers in her hair, and the gold band on her hand seemed suddenly out of place against the tension around us. She’d come over to check whether I was safe. Now she was watching Giovanni’s aunt as carefully as I was.
“Can I borrow you for a moment?” Sophia asked.
“Of course.”
I glanced at Giovanni. He didn’t try to stop me. Aunt Elena did not object when Sophia led me a few steps away, near the edge of the dance floor.
The orchestra had started another song, but the dancers took a little longer than usual to find their places. Conversations resumed around us in cautious fragments.
Sophia leaned close.
“Tell me the truth.”
“I have been.”
“Not about him. About what you’re doing here.” Her voice was low, but her eyes were steady. “Are you actually pretending to be married to Giovanni?”
“For the length of a dance, he asked me to act like I was on his side.”
“That sounds like a yes with extra steps.”
“It was one dance. That’s all I agreed to.”
“Then he introduced you as his wife?”
“Yes.”
Sophia closed her eyes briefly. “Jess.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” She searched my face. “Because you have this way of making yourself smaller when someone else is already taking up too much space.”
“I’m not making myself smaller.”
“Good. Don’t.”
I let out a breath. “He crossed a line. He knows that. I told him he has to correct it before the night is over.”
“And will he?”
“He said he would.”
Sophia glanced past me at Giovanni. “Do you believe him?”
“I’m waiting to find out.”
She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “That’s not the same as trusting him.”
“I know.”
“You still want Lily’s cake?”
“Very much.”
“Then we get the cake, and we go home. No one gets to turn your promise into an excuse to keep you here.”
“I’m not staying for them,” I said. “I’m staying for Lily.”
“I know.”
When we returned, Aunt Elena was waiting with Giovanni. She hadn’t moved, but her attention was on me now.
“I’d like to speak with you privately,” she said.
“About what?”
“About what this arrangement means.”
“There isn’t an arrangement,” I replied.
“Not a formal one,” she said. “But people have already drawn conclusions.”
“People draw conclusions without asking me all the time.”
“Yes,” Aunt Elena said. “They do. That doesn’t make the consequences disappear.”
Giovanni’s face hardened. “Elena, she has no obligation to discuss my family’s plans.”
“I’m aware.” Aunt Elena didn’t look at him. “I’m inviting her. She can refuse.”
The offer was polite. The tone beneath it was not.
I glanced at Giovanni. “What consequences?”
“That depends on what you’ve been told.”
“Not much.”
“Then a private conversation would be more respectful than this one.”
“Would it?”
“I can’t promise you’ll like what I say,” she replied. “I can promise not to pretend this is only about a dance.”
The ballroom seemed to narrow around us. The music, the clinking glasses, and the wedding laughter continued, but I could feel the attention that had gathered. Giovanni’s name had changed the way people watched him. Now his aunt’s presence seemed to change the way they watched me.
I didn’t like being the subject of a room full of people who thought they already knew my story.
“If I agree to talk,” I said, “it will be because I choose to. Not because he needs me to play a part.”
Aunt Elena’s eyes held mine.
“Understood.”
“And I won’t lie for him.”
“Then don’t.”
Giovanni turned toward me. “Jessica—”
“No,” I said quietly. “You promised to fix what you said. That’s separate from this.”
“I know.”
His answer was immediate, but I still couldn’t tell whether he understood the difference—or only wanted to.
Aunt Elena glanced toward the entrance, where a pair of guests had just arrived. “This is a poor place for a private conversation. We can speak later, if you decide to.”
“I haven’t decided.”
“That’s your right.”
May you like
She paused, then looked at Giovanni. Her composure didn’t change, but her voice sharpened.
“The Vales are expecting an introduction tonight,” she said. “It’s already scheduled.”
