Bianca is good at poker.
Really good.
I watch her take another pot from Rafe with a perfectly executed bluff, and something in my chest tightens. Pride, maybe. Or something more dangerous.
"She's cleaning us out," Enzo mutters, throwing down his cards in disgust.
"She's a natural," Luca observes, studying her with the same analytical gaze he uses for business deals. "Where'd you learn to read people like that, Bianca?"
"Teaching seven-year-olds." She stacks her chips with a small smile. "You'd be surprised how much they lie about who started the fight."
Rafe laughs. "I'm starting to think Dante brought a ringer."
"I didn't know she could play," I admit. And it's true. This is one more thing about Bianca Mancini that surprises me.
One more reason I can't quite get her out of my head.
"Bathroom break," Matteo announces, standing. He catches my eye. "Dante, help me grab more drinks."
It's not a request.
I follow him into the kitchen, where he pulls out two bottles of water—one for me, one for him.
"She's good," he says without preamble.
"At poker?"
"At everything." He leans against the counter. "Sharp, quick, doesn't back down. The guys like her. Alessia actually likes her, which is rare. And you—" He pauses. "You're different when she's around."
"I'm not different."
"Dante." His voice is firm. "I've known you for fifteen years. You're different."
I don't respond, because he's right and we both know it.
"You smile more," he continues. "Not the fake political smile I hate so much. Real ones. You touch her constantly—hand on her back, her thigh, like you can't help yourself. And when Rafe made that joke about her dress, you looked like you wanted to put him through the window."
"He was out of line?—"
"He makes those jokes all the time. You never care." Matteo studies me. "But this time you cared."
I drain my water, buying time. "What's your point?"
"My point is that this plan of yours? Using her to avoid Caterina? It's actually brilliant." He sets down his bottle. "No one knows Bianca. She's not connected to any families. There's no scandal attached to her name that could blow back on you. And if things don't work out, if you need to end it quietly, she disappears back to her life and no one's the wiser."
"That's the idea."
"It's clean. Strategic. Exactly the kind of move I'd expect from you." He crosses his arms. "But here's the thing—you're nottreating this like strategy anymore. You're treating it like it's real."
"It has to look real?—"
"I'm not talking about appearances. I'm talking about you." His eyes are sharp. "You're getting attached, Dante. And attachment is a liability we can't afford right now. Not with the Corsetti situation still active. Not with Giulio pushing the Bellandi alliance."
"I'm not attached."
"You're lying. To me, maybe. Definitely to yourself." He moves closer. "Look, I get it. She's smart, she's beautiful, she fires back when you push. That's rare in our world. But you need to remember what this is—a temporary arrangement to solve a temporary problem."
"I know what it is."
