"Dante, it's so good to see you again," he says, pulling me in for a hug and kissing my cheek. He moves aside to reveal a petite brunette. "This is my eldest daughter, Chiara."
"Hello, Chiara," I say, smiling politely.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mancini," she says. Her tone is sweet, but there's something acidic under the surface.
She barely looks to be a teenager, but her father is already parading her around in front of eligible bachelors.
"I think I heard someone calling my name," he says, twisting his neck to look at the crowd. "Can you keep Chiara company for a few minutes? I'll be right back."
I see straight through his bullshit. He's trying to set me up with his daughter.
He's gone before I can object to babysitting his daughter.
The girl crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking uncomfortable.
I clear my throat.
"You look terrified, so I want to make it clear that I'm not interested in you," I say.
She looks up at me, searching my face to see if I mean it.
This place is a swamp. Everything looks still and picturesque on the surface, but crocodiles lurk underneath, hiding in plain view.
"Okay," she says. “And for the record, I’m not interested in you, either."
I notice goose bumps dotting her bare arms. The air-conditioning in here is nearly arctic. Without thinking, I remove my suit jacket and wrap it around her shoulders.
She scrunches her nose.
"Thank you, but it kind of ruins my outfit," she says. And then she peers up at me. “I’ve seen you before.”
"You have?" I ask.
"Yeah, at the other parties," she says. "You're always alone. Why is that?"
She's blunt in the way that children often are.
"Do you like any of the people around you?" I ask.
"Not particularly," she replies.
"I don't like them either," I say.
"But you're one of them," she remarks.
"As are you."
"It's different," she says, shaking her head. "I was born into this life, but you chose it."
My heritage is not a secret. People know that I'm an outsider. Most of the time, they talk about it behind my back, but this girl doesn't seem to care about etiquette.
“Things aren’t always what they seem,” I murmur.
"I don't follow," she says.
My phone has started buzzing with messages. My men must know about the Don's orders. I shoot Enzo a quick message to let him know I'm not ready to leave just yet.
"Why aren't you wearing a mask?" the girl asks.
