With that parting shot, he drifts into the crowd as Angelo glares at his retreating form.
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I say quietly.
“I know.” He grabs me by the hand.
I’m not sure where he’s taking me until he stops in the middle of the dance floor and turns to face me. He raises our joined hands and slides his other palm to my back, pulling me into a close embrace. My free hand rests on his shoulder, and I yield to the subtle shift of his body as he draws me into an opening series of steps. Within a few beats, muscle memory and our shared chemistry carry us into an effortless rhythm as he guides me through a dark waltz.
It feels as though time has rewound ten years and we’re back in the ballroom at the Vitale estate, unable to look away from each other. I was mostly a mass of hormones back then, but it seems little has changed with Angelo’s dark gaze on mine.
He shows me off, adding some dramatic flair with his possessive and not-at-all-gentlemanly hold on me. When the music draws to a close, he eases me back into a shallow dip, surprising me with the softest brush of his lips.
It’s over far too quickly when he pulls me upright and leads me from the dance floor. I still feel dizzy and slightly druggedfrom that single kiss. All I can seem to think about is when he’ll do it again.
We drift through the crowd, making our way to the other side of the ballroom before we’re intercepted by Gabi.
“I think the whole room stopped just to watch you out there,” she says. “You looked amazing together.”
“Thanks.” I blush. “Are you done dancing?”
“Yes. I need a break. That last guy was insufferable.”
Angelo makes eye contact with one of his brothers across the room, who is giving him a subtle nod.
“Why don’t you and Gabi get a drink,” he whispers in my ear. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
“Okay.”
I don’t ask him what he’s getting up to. I learned a long time ago not to poke my nose into Mafia business.
Angelo’s thumb brushes across my knuckles, and he gives my hand one last squeeze before he leaves to join his brother. Gabi and I head to the bar, and she orders us two Shirley Temples.
“You want to inadvertently wander into the whisper gallery?” she asks once we have our drinks.
“Sure.” I shrug.
It wouldn’t be a ball without a little gossip. We weave our way through the crowd, where a large group of women has gathered. Slowing our steps, we catch fragments of the chatter around us. It seems tonight has already been eventful, with an argument between several men on the terrace and a kerfuffle in the gambling den.
We find an empty table and lurk there for a few moments before I recognize one of the voices at the table beside us. A quick glance confirms the blonde must be Genevieve, and she’s surrounded by a small group of women hanging on her every word.
“Angelo has a list of suitable replacements in his filing cabinet,” Genevieve tells them. “If she doesn’t conceive within the first six months, he’ll move on to the next one.”
“How long have they been married now?”
“Four months,” Genevieve answers smugly. “Mark my words, she’ll be gone in no time.”
“I can’t believe he even took her back,” one of the other women replies. “What a disgrace.”
“Abella,” Gabi whispers, tugging on my arm. “Let’s go.”
I let her drag me away as a fog of numbness settles over me. Gabi leads me across the ballroom and through the stairwell door before she pauses to make sure we’re alone.
“Do you think it’s true?” Her voice cracks.
Gabi is soft-hearted, but she’s not immune to the realities of our world. The fact that she’s asking me means she isn’t sure either. I don’t want to believe Angelo would do that, but realistically, it’s a consideration I have to take into account. This marriage was never about love. Angelo may have wanted me, but it doesn’t change what’s required of him.
“I don’t know,” I confess, my voice raw with pain.
Gabi blinks back tears as she searches my gaze. “What can I do to help? You want me to break into his office? Because I will.”
