“Less coke, more rum this time,” I tell Morgen.
“You don’t look like you’re having much fun, Mr. Dresvanni,” Morgen suggests with a raise of her brow.
I smile slightly strained at her. “I don’t enjoy being the center of attention,” I insist.
She laughs softly. “That’s news to me. Perhaps it’s sharing the spotlight that bothers you.” She slides the refilled glasses toward me and I find my face falling.
“What do you mean?” I ask her.
“You seemed happy enough at the New Year’s Eve party, where I don’t recall Rosalie being,” she tells me with a slight narrowing of her eyes.
“I guess she wasn’t,” I feign uncertainty. “Thank you for the drinks.” I lower my voice; my tone a bit clipped in order to remind her what she’s here for. To do a job.
The same reason I’m here. To do a job for my family. One that people must believe is real. Or at least, that we truly, genuinely, care about each other. Even if it’s obvious the marriage is arranged.
If people see weakness between us, they’ll see something they can break. Our allies and enemies alike must believe that we stand strong.
Even if I can’t stand it.
I take a long drink, sucking down half of it before I even get back to Rosalie. My eyes shift around looking for her. She’s not where she was before.
I don’t find myself worried in the slightest. In fact, I’m hoping that I won’t be able to find her for a while and can just wander off on my own.
Before I can truly disappear from the scene, there’s cameras on me, asking me where Rosalie is, and how excited I am for the wedding. How we managed to keep it a secret for so long.
So long…
Someone must have fed them information I don’t know about. A story that we’ve been together for longer than it seems.
“The wedding is going to be an incredibly exciting day,” I tell them. “Stressful as well, for my poor bride. She hasn’t been feeling well, you see.” I find myself struggling not to smirk as I lie to them.
They gasp softly. “What’s going on with Rosalie Fiorelli?” they ask.
“It’s a family matter. Private. I’d appreciate if you kept this off the record,” I tell them with furrowed brow.
“Is this why the wedding is happening so soon after your engagement gala?” someone asks me.
I put a hand up. “I’ve said nothing of the sort. I can’t wait for that day though; I’ll tell you that much.” I smile softly and then turn away from the cameras.
I walk away from them, hearing the vultures murmuring to themselves about the mix of false information I’ve fed them. I wonder if it’ll get back to Rosalie. I can’t imagine she’ll be happy, but… perhaps I’m enjoying playing this game.
If her uncle is going to insist on our marriage, and my brother is going to push me into it, I’m going to attempt to have a little bit of fun with it.
I get stopped by someone else. They rush up to me way too fast, their hands aren’t immediately in view. My instincts kick in.
I’m about to grab their arm and pull them to the side, growl at them not to come up on me like that, when someone else grabs their arm.
Damian.
Damian got over to me faster than I could even process. He grabs the older gentleman’s arm and tugs him backward.
“Watch your step. Do not approach Mr. Dresvanni with your hands concealed,” Damian growls in a low and stern tone.
The man looks flabbergasted. He puts his hands up and looks at the both of us with a gasp.
“My apologies, I meant nothing by it. I simply wish to talk to Alessio before his attention is further grabbed,” the man explains.
“Do you know this man?” Damian asks me. His eyes are hidden but I can tell he’s looking right at me. I look down at him and shake my head.
