The disrespect in his voice—the casual dismissal of Bianca like she's nothing, nobody—makes heat crawl up my spine.
"She won't cause a scandal," I say, keeping my tone even. "Which should be your only concern, considering your track record."
His eyes flash. "Watch yourself."
"I'm just stating facts. You want me to marry someone who strengthens the family name. Fine. Bianca doesn't weaken it. She's clean. No criminal record. No scandals. No enemies. She's exactly what we need right now—someone nobody can use against us."
"She's also someone who won't survive this world." He stands, walks to the window overlooking his manicured gardens. "I've been watching her, Dante. Asking questions. And something seems... off."
My pulse kicks up, but I keep my expression neutral. "Off how?"
"I don't know yet. But I will." He turns back to face me. "That's the other reason Caterina is better. I know her family. I know exactly what I'm getting. Your little teacher? She's a mystery. And mysteries in our world usually mean trouble."
"Then it's a good thing she's my problem, not yours."
"Everything you do is my problem." He moves back to his desk, braces his hands on the surface. "You're my son. My legacy. And I won't watch you throw away everything I've built for some nobody who?—"
"You haven't built anything." The words come out flat. Cold. "You tore everything down. Mom. Our reputation. The respect our name used to carry. I'm the one rebuilding. Me. And I'll do it my way."
Silence stretches between us, thick and toxic.
"Get out," he says finally. "Before I say something we'll both regret."
I stand, straighten my jacket. "Already regretting this conversation."
"Dante." His voice stops me at the door. "I will find out what's wrong with that girl. And when I do, you'll see I was right all along."
I don't respond. Just walk out, closing the door behind me with careful control when what I want to do is slam it hard enough to crack the frame.
The hallway outside his office is empty. My hands curl into fists at my sides as I walk toward the exit, my father's words echoing in my head.
He's wrong. About all of it.
Bianca is stronger than he thinks. Smarter. She's survived things that would break most people—losing her father, raising herself, watching her mother die slowly. She doesn't need to be from the right family or have the right connections.
She just needs to be hers.
And mine.
The thought hits me as I reach my car. Not just the fake arrangement. Not just the contract we signed or the leverage I'm holding.
Actually mine.
I pull out my phone, scroll to Marco's number.
He answers on the first ring. "Boss?"
"I need you to do something. Discreetly."
"Always."
"Get me an engagement ring. Something that'll make every woman at the Bellandi gala next week insane with jealousy. Price doesn't matter. Quality does."
A pause. "An engagement ring."
"You heard me."
"For... Miss Mancini?"
