I lifted my glass for another sip, relishing the cool bite of vodka and lime—when suddenly the air shifted. The overly pungent scent of a cologne I now hated invaded my personal space.
Nathaniel.
I looked over to him in annoyance. He wore a perfectly tailored suit that I was sure cost a small fortune. Seeing Nathaniel here burned something hot and ugly inside me. Rage, unfiltered. He didn’t belong in this space I’d built, this night I’d shaped with every ounce of effort and control I had.
“Nicky!” Nathaniel’s toothy smile grated on my nerves as much as using a nickname I despised. My name, from his mouth, was enough to sour the drink on my tongue. Nathaniel, standing there like he belonged, like his presence was a damn gift to the world. “Good to see you.”
I inhaled sharply at the exact wrong moment, the vodka catching in my throat. Smooth, Moretti. Real smooth. I tried to play it off, aiming for cool and breezy—instead, it came out as a mangled sound halfway between a choke and a greeting. My coughing fit was rewarded with the lift of his eyebrows, that smug flicker of satisfaction across his face.
Very much not breezy.
Stupid, stupid man.
My gaze darted desperately across the ballroom, searching for escape, for backup, for literally anyone I could drag into this nightmare. Across the way, I spotted Alexander’s unmistakable frame beside Lucia, her back turned toward me. Too far. Too loud in here. My silent pleas went unnoticed.
Fine. Cordial. Polite. I could manage this.
“Hello, Nathaniel.” My voice steadied after I cleared my throat, every syllable sharp as glass. “How’re you?”
Inside, my brain was screaming one word, over and over, louder and louder?—
Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave.
“I’mreally, reallygood.”
Of course he dragged it out, hitting every syllable like he was auditioning for the role of walking red flag entitled douchebag.
“That’s…fantastic,” I said, stretching a smile across my face so tight it could’ve cracked porcelain. Meanwhile, my brain was busy mapping every possible escape route out of this personal hell.
“Are you here alone?”
Not ‘How are you?’ Not ‘You look well.’ Straight to the jugular, as always. His words dressed themselves up in charm, but every syllable was a blade, slicing neat and intentional. Nathaniel never wasted a chance to remind me how precise he could be when he wanted to cut.
I pictured it—my drink arcing gracefully through the air, splashing across his smug face, his perfect suit ruined. God, the satisfaction it would bring.
But before I could mentally commit to my fantasy homicide, a hand slid around my waist. Warm. Steady. Possessive enough to make me jump.
“You really think Nicola Moretti would be alone at an event?”
The voice cut through the noise, smooth and familiar, slipping into the tight little bubble Nathaniel had cornered mein. Normally, I’d roll my eyes, slap his hand off my waist, and mutter a scathing ‘as if.’
But right now? Right now I could’ve kissed Matteo DeLuca for his timing.
“Well—” Nathaniel started, tone poised to pivot into whatever smug line he’d been rehearsing.
“She’s the type of woman men fight over.” Matteo’s smirk was all teeth as he tugged me closer. My hip collided with his, and I did my best to ignore the electric buzz ricocheting through me at the contact. Every nerve firing like I’d stuck my finger in a socket.
“You must be Nathaniel,” Matteo said, extending a hand like they were old pals. His skin was tanned, rings glinting on his pointer and pinky, a woven bracelet resting against the expensive weight of his watch. Casual but calculated. “I should really be thanking you, my man.”
Nathaniel blinked, thrown, but took his hand anyway.
“For letting someone like her go.” Matteo’s grin widened, dimples flashing like camera-ready weapons. “Seriously. Massive fuck up. But lucky me, right,Baby?”
Baby. My heart stuttered at the word.
His gaze swung to me then, pinning me in place. I could practically feel the heat of it against my skin.
Before I could process—before my brain could catch up to my body—he was already steering me away, hand firm at my back.
