"I know."
But we both know we will anyway.
I unlock the door, check the hallway. Empty.
"Fix your hair," I tell her. "And your lipstick."
She does, using a compact from her small purse. When she's done, she looks almost normal. Almost like we didn't just fuck in a storage room during a formal gala.
"Ready?" I offer my arm.
She takes it. "This doesn't mean anything."
"Whatever you need to tell yourself."
We walk back to the party. Back to the performance. Back to pretending this is all still fake.
But the ring in my pocket—the one Marco delivered this morning—feels heavier with each step.
Soon, I'm going to make this real.
Whether she's ready or not.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dante
We make it back to the ballroom with our clothes straightened and our masks in place.
Almost like we didn't just fuck like teenagers who couldn't wait.
And I sure as hell hope I don’t look like I want to drag Bianca right back and bury myself deep inside her.
I can’t stop wanting her and it’s doing shit to my head.
My hand rests on Bianca's lower back as we walk through the crowd. The ring in my pocket feels heavier than it should, like a very annoying, insistent reminder of the decision I made. The one I'm planning to execute tonight, in front of everyone.
Make it official. Make it real.
Because why the hell not?
"Dante." Caterina appears in front of us, her smile sharp enough to cut. "I was hoping we could have a word. You, me, Bianca, and your father."
My jaw tightens. "Thank you, Caterina, but I’m not interested."
The female is all about drama and I’m not for that tonight.
"I think you'll want to hear this." Her eyes slide to Bianca, cold and victorious as if she knows something I don’t. "It concerns your... girlfriend."
And… she knows something I don’t.
I narrow my eyes at her.
Bianca's hand tightens on my arm. I can feel the tension radiating from her, the fear she's trying to hide.
What the hell?
"Fine." I keep my voice level. "Where?"
