I nod, shake hands, and exchange the same practiced words in a dozen different combinations. My mouth says what it’s supposed to, but my brain’s running on a different track entirely.
Because no matter how many silk gowns swirl past me or how many crystal chandeliers glitter overhead, I can’t stop seeing her face. I can’t stop imagining Lily standing where Gianna is standing, fierce and stubborn and refusing to play any part but her own.
And fuck, I’d ruin entire empires for that girl.
I catch Cora’s eye across the ballroom. She’s standing beside Owen, arm tucked in his as they network. Her blonde hair is pinned back, giving her features a sharper, more deliberate edge. Despite knowing I’m far from her favourite person—after everything that went down with Lily and the impossible position it put her in—her eyes soften when she sees me. A silent question hangs there, unspoken but impossible to ignore.
Are you okay?
Something twists in my chest. Guilt, annoyance, and longing all at once. I give the smallest shake of my head.
No.
She excuses herself from Owen and makes her way over, cutting through clusters of men in tuxedos and women dripping diamonds. Owen’s eyes follow her the entire way, only allowing himself to look away once she reaches my side.
Cora looks so at home in this world and yet so deeply disgusted by it. She’s always had this way of looking at me, like she knows more than she says, like she sees the part of me I try to hide. I can’t give her answers. Not tonight. Not while every nerve in my body is buzzing with the weight of Salvatore’s gaze and the impossibility of this staged marriage.
And yet… even as she reaches me, my mind drifts to Lily. How her dark eyes would pierce me if she were here. How every soft laugh, every tilt of her head, would make the world shrink down to just her. Cora’s concern hangs between us like smoke, sharp and frustrating, but it can’t compete with the pull of Lily, the ache that refuses to be ignored.
I swallow and force my jaw to relax, letting the moment pass. I can’t afford distractions tonight. Not with Salvatore circling like a hawk, not with the press lurking, and certainly not with Lily so close, yet impossibly far.
But that doesn’t stop the memory of her from clawing its way into my chest, reminding me of everything I’ve lost, and everything I’d burn to have back.
“Breathe,” Cora whispers, sliding in beside me, low enough that only I can hear. “You look like you’re about to shatter your glass and stab someone with the stem.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I sigh, tipping the champagne flute to my lips just for something to do. “If one more old man tries to congratulate me on securing my bride, I might just do so.”
Her eyes flick toward Gianna, who’s chatting with a pair of older women, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. Sympathy flashes across her face before she turns her focus back to me.
“She’s not the problem,” Cora summarises.
“Sharp as ever,” I mutter, tossing back the last of my drink.
She arches her brow. “Don’t give me that. You’re acting like you’re on death row. Is it Gianna? Or Antonio?”
“It’s… all of it.” I rake a hand through my hair. “The deal, the alliance, the performance. It’s bullshit. And the more I pretend, the more it feels like I’m losing pieces of myself I’ll never get back.”
Cora softens, tilting her head. “And Lily?”
Her name slices through me like glass.
“Don’t,” I whisper, jaw tight. “Don’t bring her into this.”
“She’s already in it,” Cora fires back, her eyes fierce. “Even if neither of you wants to admit it.”
I scrub a hand over my face. “I have to marry Gianna.”
“You’d do well to remembershehas to marryyou,too. It’s not just you being forced into this, Matt. Sure, you’re theone doing the moving, but that doesn't guarantee Gianna any molecule of safety.”
“I’d never—”
“Iknow that. Butshedoesn’t.” Cora’s eyes shine, pity and steel tangled together as she cuts me off. “Not every Mafia is like the Points, Matt. Not every arranged marriage is like Abbie’s with a thousand contingencies keeping the bride safe from her husband’s fists, his cruel words, or even his cold shoulder. Gianna’s walking in blind.”
I flinch under her gaze, horrified by the truth in her words. Every instinct screams that I should argue, justify, take control—but Cora doesn’t give me that luxury. For once, I’m the one being lectured, measured, and it leaves me exposed in a way I’ve never felt before.
Before I can answer, Salvatore taps a fork against his glass to get everyone’s attention. His voice booms through the ballroom, welcoming everyone, praising alliances, toasting to futures paved in blood and gold.
As applause echoes off the marble walls, Gianna steps closer, slipping her hand into mine again. Her fingers are ice cold. I squeeze gently, offering her the only support I can as guilt eats me.
