But it feels like something more.
"Be safe.” The words surprise me as they slip out. "Whatever you're doing tonight—be safe."
He looks at me for a long moment, and surprise flickers across his face, too. "You too," he says finally.
Then he's gone, the front door closing behind him. I sit in the kitchen, my hand pressed against my stomach, and try to shake the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.
—
Romeo and Savannahpick me up at seven-thirty. The security detail follows in a separate car, discreet and professional. I barely notice them, which I suppose is the point.
"You look beautiful," Savannah says as I slide into the back seat beside her. She's wearing a deep, lemon-yellow gown with big curls in her hair that make her look every inch the Southern belle. "That dress is stunning."
I glance down at the midnight blue silk. It's elegant and expensive, perfectly appropriate for a charity gala, modest but perfectly tailored, and very expensive. "Thank you." I smooth the fabric over my barely-there bump. The dress hides it well.
"How are you feeling?" Romeo asks, glancing over.
"Fine. Good." I force a smile. "Ready to play the happy newlywed and mother-to-be."
Concern flickers across his face, but he doesn't comment. The drive to the hotel takes twenty minutes, and I spend it mentally preparing for the performance ahead.
Smile. Make small talk. Accept congratulations on the marriage. Laugh at appropriate moments. Touch my stomach occasionally to remind people I'm pregnant, that this marriageis legitimate, that everything is exactly as it should be.I've gotten better at this over the past few weeks. The mask has become easier to wear… almost natural now.
My phone buzzes.
Luca:Stay safe and visible. Call if you need anything.
I type back quickly:I will. Be careful.
He doesn't respond, but I didn't expect him to. He's probably already in the middle of whatever operation has him so on edge. The hotel comes into view—a grand building in uptown Manhattan, the type of establishment where charity galas raise millions in a single night. "Ready?" Savannah asks, touching my hand gently.
"Ready," I say. And I am. I've done this before. I can do it again. I just need to get through the next few hours.
The ballroom is magnificently decorated for the event. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over hundreds of guests in evening wear, and a string quartet plays in the corner. Waiters circulate with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Everything is elegant, expensive, and perfectly orchestrated. I move through the crowd with Romeo and Savannah, smiling and nodding and accepting congratulations.
"Giulia, you look radiant!"
"Marriage agrees with you."
"When are you due? You must be so excited."
I answer each question as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.Yes, I'm feeling wonderful. Yes, Luca and I are very happy. Yes, we're thrilled about the baby.
I catch sight of my security at the periphery—one near the entrance, one by the bar, watching and ready. For what, I don't know, but their presence is oddly comforting.
"Dance with me," Romeo says, offering his hand. I take it, and he leads me onto the dance floor. The quartet is playingsomething slow and elegant. Romeo is a good dancer, confident and practiced, leading me through the steps with ease.
"You're doing well," he says quietly. "Better than I expected."
"I've had practice." I glance around the room, noting the faces watching us. "Everyone's always watching. They have been all my life."
"They are." His expression is serious. "But you're handling it. You're stronger than you think, Giulia."
The words surprise me. Romeo has been distant since the wedding—supportive but careful, like he's not sure how to navigate the situation. "Thank you," I say quietly.
"Luca's worried about you tonight."
"He assigned me a security detail." I keep my voice light and casual. "Seems excessive for a charity gala."
