"Mayor." I accept his handshake, keeping my smile in check. "I appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule."
"I wouldn't miss it," he replies, lowering his voice.
I resist the urge to sneer at his platitudes. This man has been trying to shut down three of my legitimate businesses for months while simultaneously accepting campaign contributions funneled through my shell corporations.
"I should return to my bride." I say.
I make my way back across the room toward Zoe. She's still with Lucrezia, though I notice her eyes following my movements.
The orchestra transitions to a new piece as I approach. Several guests turn in anticipation, and I realize the MC must have announced our first dance. Fucking wedding traditions.
I reach Zoe, extending my hand toward her. "It's time for our dance, wife."
"Of course, husband," she replies, her voice honey-sweet for our audience.
I lead her to the center of the dance floor as guests form a circle around us. The spotlight catches in her hair, turning it to liquid gold. The orchestra begins playing a slow waltz—Strauss, I think. Not my choice, but appropriate for the occasion.
I place my hand on her waist, feeling her stiffen slightly at my touch. "Relax," I murmur. "Everyone's watching."
She steps closer, allowing me to guide her into the proper frame. "I know how to dance, Feretti."
"Good. Then follow my lead."
We move together, and I'm surprised at how easilyshe mirrors my steps. Her body gradually relaxes in my hold as we find our rhythm.
"You're better at this than I expected," she says quietly.
"You think mafia dons don't learn to dance?" I ask, spinning her out and back into my arms. The crowd applauds the move.
"I didn't picture you taking dance lessons."
"My mother insisted. Said every gentleman needs to know how to waltz." I tighten my grip slightly as we turn. "Though I doubt she imagined I'd be dancing with someone plotting my downfall."
The music swells, and I guide her through another series of turns. Her dress rustles against the floor, her perfume teasing my senses. From the outside, we must look like the perfect couple—the powerful don and his beautiful bride.
"They're all buying it," she whispers, her breath warm against my neck.
"That's the point," I reply, scanning the room as we dance. Byron watches us. Enzo's expression remains skeptical. Lucrezia seems genuinely pleased.
"Your sister is very kind," Zoe says, following my gaze.
"She sees the best in people. Even when it isn't there."
I spin Zoe into a tight turn, pulling her closer than necessary when she returns to my arms. Her green eyes flash with annoyance.
"You're holding me too tight," she whispers through clenched teeth.
"Am I?" I loosen my grip slightly, trailing my fingers down her spine. "Better?"
"You're doing that on purpose."
"Doing what?" I ask innocently, guiding her through another series of steps.
The music shifts tempo, and I adjust our movements accordingly, adding more complex patterns. Zoe follows flawlessly, matching me step for step. Impressive. I decide to test her limits, executing a sudden dip without warning.
She gasps but recovers instantly, arching her back with perfect form. When I pull her up, her face is inches from mine.
"Warn me next time," she hisses.
