"Thank you, Ginerva. Tell him I'll be there shortly."
After she leaves, I stand frozen for a moment.
I pull on a modest navy blue dress with a high neckline, armoring myself against whatever's coming. The reflection in the mirror shows a woman trying desperately to appear composed when she's anything but.
My heart pounds as I walk the long hallway to his office. What does he want?
I pause outside his door, drawing in a deep breath. Remember why you're here, I tell myself. This man killed your father. Whatever game he's playing, you need to stay focused.
I knock twice, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.
"Enter." His voice sends an involuntary shiver down my spine.
I push the door open to find Damiano behind his massive desk, dark eyes lifting to meet mine. The morning light streaming through the windows highlights the sharp angles of his face, the shadows under his eyes suggesting he slept as poorly as I did.
I step into the office, my shoulders back and head held high despite the tension between us. His eyes follow me as I cross the room, and there's a glint of amusement on his expression today that wasn't there before.
"Good morning," I say, keeping my voice neutral.
Damiano leans back in his leather chair, lips curling into a smirk. "Did you sleep well, Zoe?" The question sounds innocent enough, but the way he emphasizes "sleep" makes it clear he's referring to our encounter last night.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I refuse to let him see he's affected me.
"Wonderfully," I reply with a sweet smile. "Like a baby, actually. How about you?" I take a seat across fromhim without being invited, crossing my legs slowly. "You look tired. Rough night?"
His eyes narrow slightly, but the smirk remains. "I had some... unfinished business on my mind."
"Oh? That's too bad." I examine my nails casually. "I find a good book helps when I can't sleep. Maybe you should try reading instead of... prowling around the house at night."
Damiano's laugh is low and rich, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "Funny you should mention books. I seem to recall interrupting your reading of Sun Tzu. Perhaps you need a different kind of literature before bed."
"Do you have recommendations?" I ask, leaning forward slightly. "Something less... hands-on than what you were suggesting?"
His eyes darken at my words, but his playful mood doesn't falter. "I have many recommendations,lupacchiotta. But I doubt you're ready for any of them."
I raise an eyebrow at the nickname. "You might be surprised what I'm ready for, Damiano."
Damiano keeps staring at me, his dark eyes revealing nothing. The silence stretches between us, making me increasingly uncomfortable. I resist the urge to fidget under his intense gaze.
Finally, he leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk. "We're attending a gala this weekend."
"A gala?" I repeat, caught off guard. My mind races back to my earlier thoughts about searching his office during the event. Now that plan is shot.
"The Rossi Foundation Charity Gala," he clarifies, watching my reaction carefully. "Everyone who matters in New York will be there."
I manage to keep my expression neutral despite mydisappointment. "I see. And you want me to accompany you?"
His lips twitch with amusement. "You are my wife, are you not? Of course you'll accompany me."
"You could have just sent me a calendar invite," I say dryly. "You didn't need to summon me to your office."
"I wanted to make something clear." Damiano's voice drops lower. "At this gala, we need to be convincing. You need to play the role of adoring wife perfectly. No defiance, no sharp comments. Just a woman madly in love with her husband."
I arch an eyebrow. "Are you worried I can't pull it off?"
"Can you?" he challenges.
I stand and circle his desk slowly, my fingers trailing along the polished wood. When I reach his side, I lean against the edge, close enough that he has to look up at me.
