Damiano is still standing at the sidewalk with Nina. He holds up a lighter for her as she lights up her cigarette. Her hand is on his arm, her head tilting back as he makes her laugh. There is an annoying ease in the way they occupy the same space.
"Who is she, Gio?" I ask, no longer able to contain my curiosity. My voice is quiet, though my heart is thundering with a feeling I refuse to name.
Gio doesn't look back from the driver’s seat.
"Nina Soleri," he says, his tone surprisingly gentle. "She’s the older sister of one of Damiano’s best friends. And his ex-fiancée."
The wordfiancéefelt like a slap. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Of course, there was someone before—someone perfect, someone chosen. Suddenly, I have nowhere to put my hands, so I cross my arms above my chest to hide them.
"They were engaged?" I merely whispered.
"A long time ago," Gio clears his throat before saying, looking at me through the rearview mirror.
Disappointment, harsh and bitter, floods my chest. He brought me to see not only his ex-girlfriend but his ex-fiancée.
"It's how things are done here. Families build bridges through marriage. It was just a contract, really. If not Nina, he would have married someone else from another family." Gio adds, and I catch a remorseful look on his face that makes me feel even smaller.
His words hang in the air as I stare out the window. Everything is business in the world of criminals, even marriage. Is that why he didn’t want to be with me? Because I wasn't a"bridge"to another empire?
"Hey," Julian says from the passenger seat, turning around to look at me. He sees my set jaw and clears his throat. "So, the hair. The hairdresser is coming tonight. Have you decided on a color? Are we going full pink, or something even crazier?"
I try to force a breath into my lungs. “I haven’t really decided on anything yet,” I say.
“What about blonde?” Julian suggests eyebrows raised, nodding at Gio.
“Blonde is good. I could see it. Blonde is beautiful.Damiano likes blondes.” Julian shakes his head and frowns at Gio as they fail at their futile attempt to comfort me.
“I’mnevergoing blonde!” I snap, shooting a glare at them through the rearview mirror.
Just then, the car door opens, and Damiano slides in beside me, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket.
“No blonde?" he asks, his voice a low, amused rumble, as Julian and Gio fall silent.
“¡Callate!” I snap.
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he holds his hands up in mock surrender.
The drive back to the villa is silent, but the air is thick with my simmering irritation. When we arrive, I scramble out of thecar and head straight for the stairs. I reach the suite and throw the shopping bags onto the armchair, huffing as I try to reach the zipper of my dress.
The door clicks shut behind me.
When I look back, Damiano is leaning against the doorframe, his tie loosened, and a maddening smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, thoroughly enjoying watching me struggle.
When he steps closer to help with the zipper, I shove his hands away, the abrupt motion sending a sharp pain through my shoulder, and I wince.
∞∞∞
Damiano
I chuckle as I watch Katarina try to wrestle with the zipper of her new dress. Her anger at me is clearly testing her patience.
"You’ve been pouting since the boutique," I tease, and she doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
"You look cute, Dolcezza, but I think that zipper is winning the fight."
She whirls around, her face flush with heat. "I am not pouting! And I certainly don't need your help with anything. Why don't you go back to town? I'm sure Nina has a lighter you can hold for her."
I let out a laugh that vibrates in my chest. I grab her waist and wrap my arms around her from the back, my movements slow and deliberate.
