My heart hammered violently against my chest, fast and nervous. My hands trembled slightly, and I had to brace them against the marble counter to keep my anxiety from showing.
The dress was red—long and fitted—the soft fabric hugging my body as if it had been made just for me.
The neckline was delicate, revealing just enough to entice without exposing too much. My hair was swept up in an elegant style that highlighted my neck and bare shoulders. My makeup was flawless, carefully concealing the insecurity churning inside me.
I couldn’t deny that I liked what I saw in the mirror—but the feeling was quickly replaced by the bitter reminder ofwhyI needed to look impressive that night.
Eloá had put my family in danger once again, and I was about to walk into a room filled with powerful strangers to protect it the only way I could.
Thinking about Clara sent a sharp pang through my chest. It was the first time I’d been away from my daughter since she was born, and it hurt more than I expected. Knowing I was doing this for hershouldhave been enough to steady me—but the ache of missing her was already setting in.
I swallowed hard and looked away from the mirror.
A light knock at the door caught my attention.
“Valentina? Are you ready?” Enrico’s deep voice came through, calm and controlled.
I took one last breath, bracing myself for him—and for all the chaos that came with him—and opened the door.
He stood there already dressed in an elegant black tuxedo, tailored perfectly to his broad, imposing frame.
My heart stuttered.
My eyes betrayed me immediately, sliding over him—the sharp line of his jaw, his clean-shaven face, his dark hair slicked back with meticulous precision. A warm knot formed in my throat as I took him in, breaking my own rule about not staring.
Enrico wasn’t following any rules either.
His dark eyes roamed over me with slow, deliberate intensity, lingering in a way that felt almost physical, as if his gaze alone were touching me. Heat pooled low in my stomach. My breath turned shallow, uneven.
We stood there far longer than five seconds, frozen, lost in each other—blatantly violating the agreement we’d made less than a day earlier.
Finally, he inhaled deeply, regaining control before I did, and offered a quiet, appreciative smile.
“You look… stunning,” he said softly, still unable to fully look away.
I swallowed, forcing myself out of the trance.
“Thank you,” I replied weakly, my face warming. “You look… great too.”
He nodded and extended his arm in a practiced gesture—so natural it almost felt spontaneous.
I hesitated briefly before taking it.
The contact was formal, minimal—and yet it sent a rush of sensation through me that I had no business feeling.
Enrico seemed perfectly at ease, but I noticed the way his muscles tightened when his hand slid carefully to the small of my back, guiding me toward the door.
His touch lingered a second longer than necessary—warm, firm, almost possessive.
He leaned closer, speaking softly, as if he’d read my thoughts.
“Remember—we’re a happy couple. Smiles. Hands together. We need to convince everyone tonight.”
I nodded, ignoring the way my heart reacted every time he touched me, every time he looked at me, every time I caught the scent of the cologne I’d explicitly banned.
As we walked down the hotel corridor toward the main hall, I felt torn between gratitude for not having to face this alone—and irritation at myself for enjoying that forbidden sense of connection far too much.
Yes, we were united tonight to protect Clara.
