I press it to my lips, whispering a prayer to whatever gods might be listening. "Help me be strong enough for what's coming."
Because God knows, I'm going to need all the strength I can get.
Outside my window, snow is beginning to fall, the first of the season. In one week, I'll be walking down an aisle covered in this same snow, binding myself to a man who sees me as his property.
But I'm a Treacy woman. We're fighters.
And I'll be damned if I go down without a fight.
CHAPTER FOUR
cesare
It’s beena few days since I last saw Vittoria, but tonight is our engagement party. Tonight, everyone will see us together for the first time.
As Vittoria enters the grand ballroom on her father's arm, my eyes lock on to her like a fucking magnet. She's a vision in an emerald green gown that hugs every curve before flowing out like liquid silk. Her dark hair is swept up, exposing the graceful line of her neck; a neck I want to kiss, bite, and mark as mine.
She's breathtaking. For a moment, I forget to breathe.
But it's not just her beauty that captures my attention. There's quiet strength in the set of her shoulders, defiance in the tilt of her chin. Even as she smiles and nods politely to guests, I can see fire burning behind her eyes.
It both intrigues and unnerves me.
I make my way through the crowd to greet them, plastering on my most charming smile. "Domenico, Siobhan," I say, shaking her father's hand and kissing her mother's cheek. "Thank you for coming. And Vittoria..." I turn to her, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips. "You look stunning."
She meets my gaze steadily, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Thank you, Cesare. You look very handsome yourself."
I offer her my arm, which she takes after brief hesitation. As I lead her deeper into the room, I lean close, lips barely brushing her ear. "Remember, Vittoria," I murmur, "tonight is about presenting a united front. Play your part well."
I feel her stiffen beside me, but her smile never falters. "Of course," she replies, voice low. "I understand my role perfectly."
As we make our rounds, greeting guests and accepting congratulations, I keep close watch on Vittoria. She plays her part flawlessly, laughing at the right moments, offering gracious thanks, her hand never leaving my arm. To anyone watching, we must look like the perfect couple.
But I can feel tension thrumming through her, see annoyance flash in her eyes when she thinks no one's looking. Despite her outward compliance, the fire within her burns bright.
Dangerous. Intoxicating.
"Cesare," a gravelly voice interrupts my thoughts. I turn to see Vincent Torrino, head of the Russian faction, approaching with his usual predatory smile.
"Vincent," I greet him with a firm handshake. "Thank you for coming."
His eyes slide to Vittoria, and I feel my jaw clench as his gaze lingers on her body. "And this must be your beautiful bride-to-be," he says, his accent thick as he reaches for her hand.
"Vittoria," I say tersely, "meet Vincent Torrino."
She extends her hand gracefully, but I notice how she keeps her grip brief and pulls away quickly. Smart girl.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Torrino," she says politely.
"The pleasure is all mine,bella," Vincent says, his eyes still fixed on her in a way that makes my blood boil. "You are very lucky, Cesare. Such a young, beautiful wife."
The way he emphasizes 'young' makes it clear he's fishing for information, testing boundaries. Before I can respond, Vittoria speaks up.
"Age is just a number, don't you think?" she says sweetly, but there's steel beneath her tone. "What matters is finding the right person to stand beside you through life's challenges."
Vincent's smile falters slightly at her response. She's just told him to mind his own fucking business while maintaining perfect politeness. Impressive.
"Indeed," he says, recovering quickly. "Well, I wish you both great happiness."
