Caterina Bellandi is standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, that venomous smile playing on her lips. How long has she been there? How much did she hear?
Shit, shit, shit, this is not going well.
"Uncle Richard," she says, walking toward us. "What are you doing cornering Dante's girlfriend in a dark hallway?"
Uncle.
The word hits me like a punch to the gut.
My life just became hell.
"Caterina." Richard steps back immediately, looking flustered. "We were just?—"
"Just what?" She stops next to us, her eyes flickering between our faces. Taking in how close we were standing. How nervousI look. How guilty Richard appears. "Having an intimate conversation? How fascinating."
"It's not what you think," Richard says quickly. "I thought I recognized her from somewhere, but she says I'm mistaken?—"
"I'm sure she does." Caterina's smile doesn't waver. "Uncle Richard, I believe Aunt Margaret is looking for you. Something about the gift for Giulio?"
Richard glances at me, conflict written all over his face. Then he nods and walks away, leaving me alone with Caterina.
The temperature in the hallway seems to drop ten degrees.
"So." She leans against the wall, watching me with fully amused eyes. "That was very interesting."
"We were just talking." I straighten, refusing to show fear even though my pulse is racing.
"Were you?" She tilts her head, studying me like a cat with a cornered mouse. "Because from where I was standing, it looked very... intimate. My uncle, a married man, alone with you in a powder room. Standing so close. Having such an intense conversation."
"It wasn't?—"
"And the way he looked at you." She pushes off the door, walking closer. "Like you had history. Now why would my uncle know a schoolteacher from Queens?"
My mouth goes dry.
"I don't know what you're implying?—"
"I'm not implying anything. Yet." She stops a foot away, her perfume cloying in the small space. "But I will be doing some research. Because something about you doesn't add up, Bianca. The clothes, the manners, the way you handled yourself with me earlier—you're trying too hard to seem innocent. To seem modest."
"Or maybe I just am innocent."
She laughs. "No one in Dante's world is innocent. We all have secrets. Skeletons we'd prefer stayed buried." Her eyes glitter. "The question is—what are yours?"
"I don't have to listen to this." I try to move past her, but she blocks my path.
"You're nothing," she says, her voice dropping to something cold and deadly. "A temporary distraction. A placeholder until Dante comes to his senses and realizes what he needs. And when that happens—when he's done with you—I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what you are."
Something in me snaps.
I've spent all night being pushed around. Being controlled. Being told what to wear, what to drink, who to be.
I'm done.
"You think I'm scared of you?" I step forward, getting in her face despite the height difference. "You think your threats mean anything? I've survived worse than you, Caterina. I've scraped and clawed my way through things that would break someone like you."
"Someone like me?" Her voice rises.
"Someone who's had everything handed to her. Power. Status. Beauty. You've never had to fight for anything in your life. Never had to make impossible choices just to survive." I smile, sharp and mean. "So go ahead. Do your research. Dig up whatever you want. But know this—I'm not going anywhere. And the more you come after me, the more Dante's going to see you for what you really are."
