"Will you be needing anything else, sir?" she asks.
"No. That will be all."
She turns to leave, then pauses at the door. "The young mistress seems to be settling in well." Her voice is carefully neutral, but I catch the subtle question underneath.
"She is," I reply, giving her nothing more.
Ginerva nods once, then leaves, closing the door quietly behind her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ipace across the marble foyer, checking my watch for the third time in five minutes. Ten-fifteen. We should have left by now.
The security detail is already in place outside—four men besides Daniel, strategically positioned around the Bentley. Everyone briefed, alert, and ready.
Everyone except Zoe and Lu, who are taking their sweet fucking time.
I tug at the cuffs of my black shirt, adjusting them beneath my suit jacket. Strategic choices tonight—dark colors to blend into shadows, nothing flashy to draw unwanted attention. The weight of my Beretta rests against my ribs, a constant reminder of the world we live in.
The sound of heels clicking against marble echoes down the hallway. Finally. I turn to deliver a pointed comment about punctuality.
Then I see her.
Zoe stands at the top of the stairs in a dress that stops my breath in my chest. Blood red fabric clings to every curve of her body, the color vibrant against her pale skin. The neckline dips dangerously low, revealing the gentle swell of her breasts. A slit runs up one side, offering glimpses of smooth thigh with each step she takes.
Heat rushes through my veins as my imagination runs wild with thoughts of how that silk would feel under my hands, how easily it would slide up those legs, how the color would look spread across my black sheets.
Fuck.
Our eyes lock as she descends the stairs with deliberate slowness, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She knows exactly what she's doing.
"You can't be serious," I say, my voice rougher than intended.
She reaches the bottom step, one eyebrow arched in challenge. "Excuse me?"
"That dress. You can't wear that to Omertà."
"Really? Why not?" Her tone is light, innocent, but her eyes dance with defiance.
"Because it's practically begging for attention." I step closer, dropping my voice. "The wrong kind of attention."
Zoe tilts her chin up, green eyes flashing. "I can wear whatever the hell I want, Damiano. That was our agreement, wasn't it? I play the part of your loving wife, and you don't dictate my choices."
The scent of her perfume—something floral with a hint of spice—fills my senses, making it harder to focus on the argument.
"This isn't about dictating your choices," I growl. "It's about keeping you safe in a place where men have killed for less than a look."
"Then I guess you'll just have to protect me, won't you?" She steps around me, heading for the door. "That's what husbands do, after all."
I'm about to follow Zoe when Lucrezia appears at the top of the stairs, dressed in a silver mini dress. Her hair falls in perfect waves around her shoulders, her makeup flawlessly applied. She looks beautiful, but all I can think is that I'll need to double the security tonight.
"Are we still arguing?" Lu asks as she reaches the bottom step, looking between me and Zoe. "Because we're already late, and I've been waiting forever to go to Omertà."
Zoe throws me a triumphant look. "Your brother doesn't approve of my dress."
Lu rolls her eyes. "Ignore him. That's what I do." She links her arm through Zoe's. "You look stunning."
"That's precisely my concern," I mutter.
