“She’s absolutely stunning,” Mr. Grimaldi says warmly, clasping my hands in his. “The papers didn’t do her justice.”
Stunning? He must be even more blind than I am without my glasses.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Grimaldi,” I manage, forcing a polite smile.
He pulls me into a grandfatherly hug, smelling faintly of sandalwood.
“From the moment I met her, I knew she was everything,” Dominic says, his voice thick with a warmth I know is fake. “I can’t imagine my life without her.”
My chest tightens. He’s lying. I know he’s lying, but he says it with such conviction that for a dangerous moment, I almost believe it.
Mr. Grimaldi’s eyes warm, crinkling at the corners as he pulls back. “A man who values family is a man who builds wisely.”
Dominic’s hand presses gently at my waist, and his fingertip draws slow circles against my skin, sending a treacherous shiver down my body. “My wife is my foundation. Every decision I make, I make with her in mind.”
The men nod approvingly, clearly charmed by his performance. And that’s all this is. A performance. I remind myself of that as Dominic excuses us and guides me away. I don’t know how to feel. Used, certainly. But I shove the thought deep down before it can root.
We’re halfway toward the bar when a voice calls out his name.
“It really is you, Dom. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.” A loud, pitched voice, almost the same as Elena’s, strikes my ears.
I swivel my head to see a blonde woman walking toward us. Her beauty is the kind that silences a room. Long legs, curves in all the right places, a smile that belongs on billboards.
Dominic turns, then his expression hardens, eyes narrowing with a sharpness I thought was only reserved for me.
“Aren’t you going to hug me?” she teases, her accent lilting with a faint British twang. “Or ask how I’ve been doing? Have you forgotten me so soon?”
Dominic’s jaw flexes. “I don’t have time for your games, Sabrina.”
She huffs, adjusting the sleeves of her well-tailored suit gown.
They seem to share some sort of history and jealousy uncoils in my stomach, whispering that this woman belongs in his world far more than I ever could.
He doesn’t spare her another glance.
Her ponytail bounces softly as she tsks, shaking her head. “Oh, my. My manners are terrible.” She extends a manicured hand, her lips stretching into something I know is a fake smile. “I’m Sabrina.”
I’m sure I’ve seen her before.
“I get that look a lot,” she purrs as if reading my thoughts. “Yes, I won the International Vogue Icon Contest last year.”
Dominic hisses and tugs me in the opposite direction, but for some stupid reason, I stay and even take her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Sabrina,” I murmur, just enough to hide the constriction in my throat.
Her smile drops. “Is it? Most women would feel insecure standing next to me. Especially when their husband has a history of… finer taste.”
My stomach knots. Dominic slips his hand to my waist, and his hold tightens.
“Leave, Sabrina,” he grits out in a warning tone.
I hold my breath as she flicks her gaze to Dominic, a vivid expression of anger and hurt in her eyes. When she slides her gaze back to me, it’s with an all too familiar expression of disgust.
“Dominic always had the best. Models. Actresses. Women that men would kill to touch. And now…” My breath quakes as she eyes me, a mocking smile on her lips. “Now he’s married to some basic girl who looks like she’s trying too hard to fit into those categories? I almost didn’t believe it.”
In an instant, Dominic steps forward and clasps his hand tightly around the model’s arm. She winces, but Dominic doesn’t let go. “I said leave.”
She frowns, yanks her arm from his grip, and steps back, heat blazing in her eyes as she stares at him. “I wonder…is that how much you’re afraid of falling in love? You had to settle for a wannabe?” She shoots me a pitiful stare.
