But across the room, I see Luca's knuckles go white around his glass. He's watching us. Watching Alessandro touch me. And even from here, I can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders have gone rigid. Is he angry? Jealous?
Or am I just seeing what I want to see?
Alessandro says something about his family's villa outside of Rome, about how he'd like to take me there after we're married. His hand slides down to my wrist, his fingers circling it possessively. "I think you'd love it there," he says smoothly. "It's very private. Very romantic."
The word makes me want to scream. There's nothing romantic about being touched by a man I don't want, being promised to someone who sees me as a prize to be won. I glance across the room again, and this time, Luca is looking right at me.
Our eyes meet, and the intensity in his gaze makes my breath catch. He's not just watching, he'sstaring. And there's something in his expression—something furious and desperate and barely controlled, like he wants to cross the room and tear Alessandro's hand off my arm. I swear he looks like he's fighting every instinct he has to stay where he is. I can see the intensity, the passion in his eyes that I saw last night. IknowI see it.
Forme.
I can’t be imagining it. I can’t. Is there a different reason than the one I’ve thought of for why he’s ignoring me, why he’s so cold here?
Alessandro says something—I don't even hear what—and I have to turn away and respond. I have to play my part.
When I look back, Luca is gone.
I want to get up from the table and follow him to wherever he’s gone, find him, and demand answers this time. I want to find him and refuse to leave until he tells me everything he’s feeling. But I force myself to stay still in my seat and make it through dinner and dessert, with no sign of Luca returning. I force myself through the endless small talk and the careful performance of being the perfect daughter, the perfect future wife. But inside, I'm screaming.
Alessandro kisses my hand before he leaves, gentlemanly as if we’re in some period drama. I watch him leave, and I see my father smile approvingly. And all the while, all I can think is:I can't do this.
I can't marry him and spend my life being touched by someone who makes my skin crawl. I can't pretend I don't know what it feels like to want someone so badly it hurts. I had one taste of freedom, one night of choosing what I wanted, and now I'm supposed to go back to this? To pretending it never happened? To accept my fate like a good daughter?
I have to. I have no choice. But for a little while… I still have a few choices.
It only makes my decision from last night feel clearer, more necessary. I'm going back to the club. I need to finish what I started and have this one thing that's mine before the cage door closes forever.
I call Liesl the next day and tell her I need another night away, that my father is driving me crazy with wedding talk. It’s so easy, I feel guilty—she’s thrilled at the idea of another girl’s night. I suggest the next Friday night that the club is open, and she agrees immediately. My father is so happy with my progress with the suitors, and Alessandro especially, that he doesn’t even hesitate to say yes, especially when I tell him I want to get ideas from Liesl about planning the wedding.
I pack the tight dress I bought from the boutique and the mask and wig, my heart pounding a million miles a minute the entire time.I can’t run away this time,I tell myself. I don’t know how many more chances at this I’m going to get. Luca or no Luca, I have to be brave.
I’m going to regret it forever if I don’t.
I enjoy the evening with Liesl more this time, knowing that my plan worked before. We order in and drink a few glasses of wine while half-watching a movie and gossiping and reminiscing. She goes to bed about eleven again, a little drunk, and I get ready as quickly as I can before slipping out of the service entrance the same way I did before and hailing a cab.
I hesitate for only a minute before going into the club.Luca or not, I remind myself, walking as confidently as I can inside and showing the woman waiting at the entrance my membership card.Tonight is the night.
But as I walk in, I can’t help hoping that I find him here. I know it’s a long shot, Iknowit, but he’s the one I want. I’m not entirely sure Icando this with anyone else. I want my first time to be with Luca.
But youdon’twant it to be with Alessandro. So if he’s not here, choosesomeone.
The club is busier tonight. The music pulses through the space, and I can feel it in my chest, matching my heartbeat. I scan the room, looking for him, and for a moment I think he's not here. I draw in a slow breath, trying to take in more of the crowd, to look for a man that I find attractive who isn’t Luca. He can’t be the only man in the world I want. He can’t be?—
I see him, and my heart nearly stops. Relief crashes into me so hard my knees nearly buckle. He's at the bar, alone, his back to me. But I'd know those shoulders anywhere, the way he holds himself, the way he moves. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely breathe.
And then the relief gives way to fear. What if he doesn't want to see me again? What if he's moved on, found someone else? What if?—
He turns, and our eyes meet across the room.
The recognition is instant and mutual. I can feel the crackle between us, the way the air thickens. He goes completely still, his glass halfway to his mouth. I can see the shock in his expression. The disbelief.
I start walking toward him before I can second-guess myself. Before fear can make me turn around. He moves at the same time, as if we’re connected by an invisible thread. He sets down his glass and meets me halfway.
"Valentina." My fake name sounds hoarse when he says it, so full of need that arousal sweeps through me, dragging me under like a tide. My voice sounds shaky when I speak.
"Hi."
"I didn't think I'd see you again." He’s looking at me with undisguised desire, but there’s some wariness there, too. I can’t exactly blame him after the way I ran last time.
