There’s a possessiveness there, a certainty that feels like he's already decided I'm his.
"I'd love to take you to a gallery opening next week," he says. "There's a new exhibition at the Met that I think you'd enjoy. We could make an evening of it—dinner, the gallery, maybe a walk through Central Park afterward. With proper security, of course."
He's asking me on a date, and everyone at the table is watching to see how I'll respond.
"That sounds lovely," I hear myself say, because what else can I say? I could tellhimno, I suppose, but out of everyone I’ve met so far, he’s the best option. I’d rather deal with a date with him than anyone else here.
His smile widens, and I see my father nod approvingly from the head of the table. I've done well. I've made the right choice.
I feel like I'm suffocating.
Alessandro takes his attention away from me long enough to address my father, asking him questions about business, about how the Ciresa holdings are doing. It seems carefully couched in hints that perhaps the Ciresas are struggling since the chaos of the Beauregard matter, and I see Romeo tense out of the corner of my eye. But my father is quick to tell Alessandro how well we’re doing, about expansions and other business matters that I quickly tune out. It’s not as if I’ve ever been included in them, anyway.
Throughout the meal, I'm constantly aware of Luca's presence. Every time I glance toward him, his expression is carefully neutral. But sometimes I catch him looking at me, and there's something in his eyes that I can't quite read, a look of irritation, I think. It's gone before I can analyze it, replaced by that careful blankness, but it was there.
Or maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see.
The conversation continues, flowing around me as if I’m an object, and everyone else is a river in constant motion. Marco tells a long story about a business deal that I'm sure is meant to be impressive, but just makes me want to fall asleep. Enzo makes increasingly inappropriate comments that he seems to think are charming, his hand finding excuses to touch me—my arm, my shoulder, once even brushing against my hair. Alessandro continues to be perfectly pleasant and perfectly attentive, asking me questions about my time at boarding school, my interests, my thoughts on various topics.
And through it all, I'm dying inside. None of these men makes me feel anything. There’s no attraction, no chemistry, no spark of interest. They're strangers evaluating me like a piece of property, and I'm expected to choose one of them to spend the rest of my life with. I'm expected to let one of them touch me, kiss me, take me to bed. I'm expected to bear his children and run his household and smile through it all like I'm grateful for the opportunity.
And the man I actually want is sitting a few chairs down, looking at me like I'm nothing more than his best friend's little sister.
Midway through the main course, I notice Luca shift slightly, his jaw tight. He's looking at Enzo, who has just reached over to touch my arm again, his fingers lingering on my skin. There's something dark in Luca's expression, something violent, but it's gone so quickly I almost think I imagined it.
Then he pushes his chair back abruptly, gets up, and walks out of the room.
My eyes widen with shock, and my heart stutters in my chest. His proximity to Romeo is the only reason he could get away with something like that—my father would kill a lesser man for such rudeness. But why would he do that? All I can think isthat my presence has become utterly unbearable to him. This whole thing probably seems like absolute foolishness to him, and seeing me being fawned over probably disgusts him.
Not only does he not want me, he doesn't even want to be near me.
"Giulia?" Alessandro's voice pulls me back to the present. "Are you alright? You seem distracted."
"I'm fine," I lie, forcing a smile. "Just a bit warm. It's been a long evening."
"Would you like to step outside for some air? The garden is beautiful at night."
It's a test, I realize. He's asking if I'm interested enough to spend time alone with him, if I'm willing to give him a chance.
"That sounds lovely," I hear myself say, desperate not to spend time with Alessandro, but to get away from the table as soon as possible, and the glaringly empty chair where Luca was.
His smile widens, and I see my father nod approvingly. I've made the right choice. Again.
The rest of the dinner passes in a blur. Dessert is served—a delicate panna cotta that I push around my plate without really eating. Coffee is offered, and the conversation continues, but I'm barely present. Finally, mercifully, the meal ends. Alessandro stands and offers me his arm. "Shall we take that walk?"
I take his arm and let him lead me out into the garden. The cool evening air feels like a relief after the stuffiness of the dining room, and I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head.
The garden is beautiful, lit by strategically placed lights that make the flowers glow and cast romantic shadows across the paths. It's the perfect setting for a courtship.
Alessandro leads me down the winding path. "This is beautiful," he says, gesturing to the roses that line the path. "Your family has excellent taste."
"Thank you. My mother designed most of it before she passed."
"I'm sorry for your loss." His voice is gentle and sincere. I should appreciate it, but I just nod, feeling hollow and numb. I’ve been given so much, and I suppose I should be appreciative that this is all that’s being asked of me—to let myself be courted by a handsome man. But all I want is for the night to be over.
We walk in silence for a moment, and I'm grateful for it. The quiet feels like a reprieve after the constant performance of dinner. But then Alessandro speaks again.
"I want you to know, Giulia, that I'm not trying to rush you into anything. I know this is all very formal and probably uncomfortable. But I'd like to get to know you, if you're willing. As a person, not just as a potential alliance. Your father’s business interests are very tempting, but you are even more so. It’s you that I’m most interested in."
