But I'm here anyway, because turning down the invitation would've been an insult. And because Caterina's watching from across the room with those cold eyes, waiting for me to fail.
Bianca stands beside me in the red dress I picked out. The one from the party—the one she refused to wear that night. I had it sent over again this morning with a note:Wear this. No arguments.
She did.
And she looks... Christ, she looks incredible. The fabric clings to every curve, the slit showing just enough thigh to make my jaw tight. Her hair's down, falling in waves over her bare shoulders. Simple jewelry—just the gold cross she always wears and small earrings.
She doesn't need anything else.
Every man in this room has looked at her at least once. Some more than once. And each time, I feel that possessive heat crawl up my spine, the urge to put my hands on her so they all know exactly who she belongs to.
"Champagne?" A server appears with a tray.
"No," I say at the same time Bianca reaches for a glass.
She freezes, looks at me. "Seriously?"
"You don't drink."
"I had champagne at your father's party."
"And we discussed how that went." I wave the server away. "Water."
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't argue. Just turns away, scanning the room like she's looking for an escape route.
"Stay close," I tell her. "Don't wander off."
She opens her mouth—probably to tell me exactly where I can shove my orders—but Massimo Bellandi appears before she can.
"Dante." He extends his hand. Mid-sixties, silver hair, expensive suit. The kind of man who smiles while he's planning your funeral. "So glad you could make it. And this must be the famous Bianca."
I shake his hand, keep my grip firm. "Massimo. Thank you for the invitation."
"Of course, of course." His eyes slide to Bianca, assessing. "My daughter speaks very highly of you."
"Does she." I don't make it a question.
"She does. In fact, she's been hoping to have a word with you tonight. Business matters." He smiles. "But I'll let her tell you herself. Please, enjoy the party. The auction starts in an hour."
He drifts away, already moving to the next group of guests.
"He's terrifying," Bianca says quietly.
"He's nothing." I guide her toward the bar with a hand on her lower back. "Just a man trying to stay relevant."
"By throwing parties that cost an amount I can’t casually mention?”
"By reminding everyone he still has power." I signal the bartender. "Two waters."
She makes a face but doesn't protest this time. Just takes the glass when it arrives and sips like it's the most boring thing in the world.
"I need to make some rounds," I tell her. "Stay here. Don't talk to anyone I haven't introduced you to."
"You're not serious."
"Completely serious." I lean in, lower my voice. "Half the men here would use you to get to me. The other half would just use you. So stay. Here."
I leave before she can argue, moving through the crowd with practiced ease. Handshakes. Small talk. The usual performance everyone in this world does at these things.
