I take a deep breath, then another. My hands are trembling as I reach for my clutch and pull out my lipstick.
This was just part of our act tonight. That's all it was. A performance for the eyes watching us. For the whispers that would follow. For the stories that would reach Byron's ears.
Nothing more than that.
I carefully reapply my lipstick, erasing the evidence of Damiano's possession. The woman in the mirror looks composed again, but inside, I'm still reeling.
It didn't mean anything. It was just a kiss. A strategic move in this dangerous game we're playing.
I close my eyes, trying to focus on why I'm here. On my father's face. On Byron's training. On twelve years of preparation for this exact mission.
He killed your father.I remind myself sternly.
He's a monster.
I splash cold water on my wrists, hoping to cool the heat still coursing through my veins. This reaction is nothing but biology—a primal response to tension and proximity. It has nothing to do with feelings.
I straighten my shoulders and adjust my emerald dress, becoming Zoe Feretti once more. The perfect, adoring wife. The ultimate deception.
I make my way back into the ballroom, scanning the crowd for Damiano. The clink of champagne glasses and murmur of conversations fills the air as I spot him across the room, deep in discussion with three men I don't recognize. His commanding presence draws every eye,even as he speaks in low tones, occasionally nodding at whatever they're saying.
A familiar sensation creeps up my spine—someone watching me. I turn slightly and meet Byron's gaze across the room. Of course he's here. I should have expected it.
Byron weaves through the crowd with practiced ease, his silver hair catching the light, his smile perfect and controlled. When he reaches me, he embraces me warmly, playing the role of proud father for anyone who might be watching.
"Magnificent performance," he whispers against my ear, his voice carrying just enough warmth to seem genuine. "The way you two looked at each other... even I almost believed it."
I pull back, keeping my smile in place. "It's all an act."
Byron's eyes flick toward Damiano, then back to me. "Perhaps. But I don't think our Italian friend is acting quite as much as you believe."
"What do you mean?" My stomach tightens.
"The way he looks at you." Byron sips his champagne, watching Damiano over the rim of his glass. "That's not performance, my dear. That's possession." He lowers his voice. "This is your chance, Zoe. Get closer. Let him think he's winning you over."
"He doesn't feel anything for me," I insist, though the memory of Damiano's kiss sends heat rushing through me again. "He's just playing his part."
Byron's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "You've always been observant, Zoe, except when it comes to your own value. Trust me on this—I've been reading men like him my entire life." He places a hand on my shoulder. "Damiano Feretti wants you. Use that. It's the fastest way into his world."
I swallow hard, unsure how to respond. The thought that Damiano might actually desire me beyond our arrangement is both terrifying and... something else I don't want to name.
"This is your opportunity," Byron continues. "Don't waste it overthinking. Just do what needs to be done."
I can feel Damiano's presence before I see him. He moves through the crowd with that predatory grace of his, making his way toward Byron and me. The tension in my shoulders increases with each step he takes.
"Byron," Damiano says, his voice smooth as he extends his hand to Byron. "You came."
Byron's smile is perfectly calibrated—just the right amount of warmth. "Damiano. The Rossi Foundation does such important work. I wouldn't miss it."
I stand between them, acutely aware of the undercurrents flowing beneath their polite exchange. These are two sharks circling each other, testing for weaknesses.
"How's married life treating you?" Byron asks, his gaze sliding between us.
Damiano's hand finds the small of my back, his touch burning through the thin fabric of my dress. "Wonderfully," he replies, staring directly at me rather than Byron. "Zoe is everything I could have hoped for."
I force myself to smile, playing along while my skin tingles under his touch.
"Perhaps we should discuss how our business arrangements are progressing," Byron suggests, lowering his voice. "It's been nearly a month since the wedding."
