The ballroom erupts in applause like we're performers on a stage giving them exactly the show they came for. Lorenzo's kiss chases away the cold Daniil left behind, replacing it with heat that spreads through my chest, down my spine, into my fingertips.
When he pulls back, I'm steadier. My smile comes naturally, not forced, and Lorenzo's eyes soften just slightly at the corners.
"Perfect timing," he says quietly, then louder, "I think this is the right moment."
He signals a waiter, taking two champagne flutes from the silver tray. One finds its way into my hand, the cool crystal grounding me further. Lorenzo raises his glass slightly, not tapping it for attention—he doesn't need to. His presence alone commands the room.
"Since you're all here for our engagement," Lorenzo's voice carries across the ballroom with the same authority he uses in boardrooms and back alleys, "Sophia and I have an announcement."
The crowd quiets instantly. Even the string quartet stops playing. Every eye in the room fixes on us, and I feel the weight of their attention like a physical thing.
"We're getting married," Lorenzo continues, his free hand finding the small of my back. "In one month."
The reaction is immediate. Gasps, whispers, then thunderous applause. Someone shouts congratulations. Glasses raise throughout the room in impromptu toasts. But Lorenzo isn't finished.
He sets down his champagne and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. My heart stops. We never discussed a ring. This wasn't part of our arrangement, our practice, our whatever-this-is.
"Sophia," he says, and the room goes silent again.
He opens the box, revealing a ring that catches the chandelier light and throws it back in brilliant fragments. It's not what I expected. Not some gaudy statement piece meant to impress. The center diamond is substantial but elegant, surrounded by smaller stones in an art deco setting that looks vintage.
Lorenzo takes my left hand, and I realize I'm trembling again, but for entirely different reasons than when Daniil approached.
The ring slides onto my finger and the room explodes again—applause, cheers, the pop of champagne corks. But I barely hear any of it. All I can see is Lorenzo's face, the way he's looking at me like maybe this isn't just an arrangement anymore. Like maybe it never was.
"One month," someone calls out. "That's fast!"
"When you know, you know," Lorenzo responds smoothly, but his thumb strokes across my knuckles where the ring now sits.
Francesco's voice cuts through the celebration like a knife through silk. "How romantic. My dear niece, swept off her feet. Though I do hope you'll remember your family in all this excitement."
The threat is subtle, but it's there. Lorenzo's hand tightens on mine.
"Family is everything," Lorenzo agrees, his tone matching Francesco's for hidden menace. "Which is why Sophia will be under my family's complete protection from now on."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sophia
The drive from the hotel to Lorenzo's restaurant is silent except for my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Lorenzo's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
Lorenzo leads me through the back entrance, past the dark kitchen, up the stairs to his office. But instead of stopping there, he continues down the hall to a door I've never noticed before.
"I need to check on some things," he says, unlocking it. "The apartment upstairs. Where I stay when I work late."
The "apartment" is more like a luxury suite.
Lorenzo moves to his desk, shuffling through papers like they're suddenly the most important thing in the world. Like he didn't just kiss me senseless in front of Chicago's entire underworld. Like he didn't slide this ring onto my finger with hands that barely trembled.
"Want to get in?" I ask, gesturing toward the bedroom visible through an open door.
"Sophia." My name comes out strangled. "Don't."
"Don't what?" I move closer to him, close enough to smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of whiskey from the party. "Don't want you? Too late for that."
"You don't know what you're asking for."
"Then show me."
