The one who was supposed to own me.
Marina's hand finds mine. "Sophia? You just went white."
"That's him," I whisper, my voice barely working. "The Russian."
Marina's grip tightens, but Daniil's already spotted me. His empty blue eyes lock onto mine across the room, and his mouth curves into quite a smile. More like a wolf showing teeth.
He starts walking toward us.
My body screams at me to run, but my feet won't move. The room tilts slightly, edges going dark. I'm drowning in the middle of this glittering ballroom, surrounded by Chicago's elite, and no one notices except Marina.
"Where's Lorenzo?" she asks urgently, looking around.
"Terrace. With Pietro." The words come out strangled.
Daniil weaves through the crowd with purpose. People step aside without realizing why, some primitive instinct warning them away from the danger he carries.
Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.
I need to leave. Need to move. Need to do something other than stand here like a lamb waiting for slaughter.
But I can't.
Lorenzo mentioned Daniil might show up tonight. "Just for appearances," he'd said. "He wants to be part of Chicago's elite, to be seen as legitimate." But there's nothing legitimate about the way he's looking at me. Like I'm already his. Like this engagement to Lorenzo is just a temporary inconvenience.
"Miss Torrino," Daniil says when he reaches us. "Or should I say, the future Mrs. Sartori?"
He extends his hand toward mine, clearly expecting me to offer it for a kiss. Old-world manners hiding new-world violence.
My hand stays frozen at my side.
"How rude of me," he says, that not-smile widening. "Allow me to properly introduce myself."
Before I can react, he takes my hand anyway, his fingers closing around mine with practiced ease. His grip is cold, wrong. Everything in me recoils as he lifts my hand toward his mouth.
"Touch her again and you disappear," Lorenzo's voice cuts through the air like a blade. He's suddenly there, his hand clamping down on Daniil's wrist before his lips can touch my skin. "Not tomorrow. Not next week. Tonight. They'll never find enough pieces to bury."
The threat hangs between them, and for a moment, I think Daniil might actually back down. But then he laughs. A sound like breaking glass.
"Such passion," Daniil says, releasing my hand slowly, taking his time. "I can see why my bride-to-be finds you so... compelling."
"She's not your anything," Lorenzo says.
"Technicalities." Daniil adjusts his cufflinks, completely unbothered by Lorenzo's threat. "Contracts were signed. Agreements made. Just because she's playing with you doesn't change what was promised to me."
"Leave," Lorenzo commands. "Now. Before I forget we're in public."
Daniil's eyes find mine over Lorenzo's shoulder. It's like he's saying that we're not done yet.
My stomach turns violently.
He turns and walks away, laughing softly to himself. The sound follows him through the crowd like a poison, and I realize my whole body is shaking.
Lorenzo's arms wrap around me, solid and warm, anchoring me back to reality. His mouth finds my ear, and his voice is low enough that only I can hear.
"We're staying a little longer," he murmurs against my hair. "Then I'm getting you out of here. Just trust me and keep going."
Before I can respond, before I can tell him that Daniil's touch made my skin crawl, Lorenzo's mouth covers mine.
