I’m all alone. And Sandro’s just… gone.
Everyone’s attention slides toward the moment they expect to see husband and wife join hands to make their way to the marital chamber. My pulse pounds so hard it makes my temples ache.
Then—suddenly, as though it was always meant to be—Raf appears at my side.
He’s dressed in a tux as sharp as Sandro’s, every inch of him commanding, though there’s something heavier about his presence, a sadness that drapes around him like a cloak. His arm extends smoothly, like there’s no question of me refusing it.
“As Don, I reserve the honor of escorting my new sister-in-law from the party tonight,” he says.
The explanation is just loud enough to remove suspicion for anyone close enough to notice that I’m on the wrong twin’s arm. And maybe Raf’s confidence leaves no room for doubt, but as I peer anxiously up through my lashes, expecting to see pity or judgment from the crowd, no one seems to care—or perhaps they can’t tell the difference between Sandro and his brother in this lighting.
Relief floods me so suddenly, my knees weaken.
I loop my hand through his arm, grateful for the steady anchor he provides as we stride down the sparkling archway. Smiles and cheers follow us, cameras flashing as Raf lifts his hand in a solute that will cover the unmarked cheek where Sandro’s tattoo would be. And I know he’s covering for his twin in a way no one else could possibly.
I keep my chin lifted, pretending I’m not acutely aware of the fact that the man who should be here—my husband—has abandoned me.
We make it out of the ballroom, through hushed corridors that grow quieter the farther we go. My ears still buzz with the echoes of celebration. Raf doesn’t speak until we reach the more private wing, where the doors are shut and guards stand like statues.
Only then does his expression shift. The carefully maintained mask slips into something closer to irritation—though I don’t think it’s aimed at me.
“You’re probably wondering where my brother ran off to,” he says, his tone clipped.
I nod, words caught in my throat, and I swallow hard. “Did I do something wrong?” The words come out breathy with worry, and I hate the slight quiver that enters my voice.
Raf sighs, running a hand over his jaw, then gives me a look edged with apology. “No.”
That should bring me a sense of relief, but my heart only thuds harder.
He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t tell me what Sandro is doing or why he would leave me tonight of all nights. Instead, his voice softens, almost regretful. “He should’ve been the one to walk you from that room. That was his place, not mine. But I can guarantee he’ll join you shortly.”
The weight in his tone tells me he’s not thrilled about having to make the promise, but oddly, I trust that he can keep his word.
Exhaling slowly, I release the tension in my shoulders. “Thank you,” I murmur. “You saved me from an embarrassing situation.”
A faint smile touches his lips. “It’s what family does.”
We stop in front of a heavy wooden door, carved with the kind of detail only money and power can buy.
He turns toward me, his hand still resting over mine on his arm. “Congratulations on your marriage, Evi. Welcome to the family.”
The sincerity in his voice startles me, and again, I feel the prickle of tears behind my eyes. I don’t know what I was expecting, butfamilywasn’t something I anticipated gaining from this marriage. I’ve been so driven to do what’s right for my own family, I didn’t stop to think about the one I would be marrying into. I swallow, managing a small smile. “Thank you.”
Raf starts to turn away, then pauses as though remembering something, his head cocking thoughtfully. “I hope you’ll be a good influence on my brother,” he says with a startlingly sad smile. “I think you might be. Though Sandro is… a unique personality.”
That pricks my curiosity, even as it makes my heart flutter nervously. “What do you mean?”
He studies me for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, as if weighing how much truth to give me. Then he sighs again, softer this time. “You’ll never find anyone more loyal than my brother,” he says. “But he can be… challenging. Sometimes he’s difficult to understand.”
I wait, not daring to interrupt.
“He wouldn’t like me telling you too much about it, so all I’ll say is that our father was hard on him—harder than the rest of us,” Raf continues. “Sandro was a… quiet kid. He was soft-spoken, thoughtful in ways my father couldn’t understand or value. He wanted to toughen Sandro up, force him into something harder, sharper.”
My chest aches at the thought, though I try not to show it.
“That’s why Sandro fights, why he has a reputation for violence,” Raf goes on. “In the end, it was the only thing that gave him value in our father’s eyes.” He shakes his head, his expressionturning bitter. “And after a while, Sandro came to believe it himself.” The tension snaps taut, then dissipates as Raf releases a humorless chuff. “Anyway. You seem like a sweet girl, Evi. I’m sorry if he isn’t what you might have wished for in a husband… but I hope, in time, you can find a way to love him.”
I can’t find words.
