"Relax," Alessia murmurs, falling into step with us. "You look like you're about to start a war."
"I'm always about to start a war." I grunt.
She laughs. Matteo's wife has that effect—making violence sound like a joke until you remember who she married.
Matteo and Isabella are already at the high-stakes poker table. My best friend looks relaxed, but I know him well enough to see the tension in his shoulders. Isabella sits beside him, stunning and sharp-eyed, watching the players like she's cataloging weaknesses.
"Dante." Matteo nods toward the bar. "A word?"
I glance at Bianca. She's talking with Alessia, laughing at something, and the sound does strange things to my chest. I want to always see her like this. Laughing, carefree, spoiled and happy.
"Stay with them," I tell Marco. Then I follow Matteo to a private alcove.
He doesn't waste time.
"What's going on with you and Bianca?"
I pull the ring box from my jacket. Black velvet, small enough to hide. Heavy enough to feel like an anchor.
His eyes drop to it. "You're serious."
I nod, once. "I want to marry her."
"Because you love her or because Caterina's forcing your hand?"
The question hits harder than it should. "Both. Neither. Does it fucking matter?" I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration.
Matteo just raises a brow.
"It matters if you're about to blow up everything we've built." He leans against the railing, looking down at the tables below. "Caterina came to see me yesterday."
My blood goes cold. "What did she want?"
"To offer me a deal. Make you leave Bianca, marry her instead, and she stays quiet about the escort thing. Otherwise, she releases everything—names, dates, photos. Makes sure every politician, every partner, every enemy we have knows exactly who your future wife used to be."
I grip the railing hard enough that my knuckles go white. "And what did you tell her?"
"That I'd think about it." He turns to face me. "Look, personally? I don't give a damn who Bianca was. She's smart, she's loyal, she makes you less of a fucking robot. But our partners won't see it that way. Neither will the politicians we own or the families we work with."
"So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that if you marry an escort who's been with men in our circles—some of them our enemies—it makes us all look weak. And in this business, perception is survival, you know this."
The logic is sound. I hate that it's sound.
"She's not that person anymore," I say quietly.
I want to punch something, someone.
"Doesn't matter. Once the story's out, that's all anyone will remember." He pauses. "I can't have my capo marry someone who could be used against us. You know that too."
I do know that. I've always known that. But knowing doesn't make it easier.
"Give me time," I say finally. "Let me handle this, handle Caterina."
He raises a brow, looking unbothered to the world. "How?"
"However, I have to." I say the same thing I’ve said to Bianca because what the fuck else can I say? I’ll take care of things. I will not let Bianca go.
