Chiara laughed under her breath. Then her smile faded slightly as she followed my gaze again. Three older men watched Aurora now. Calculating. Interested. Predatory. My mood darkened. Chiara felt it.
“You’re doing the thing again,” she sighed softly.
“What thing?”
“The terrifying murder stare,” she hissed.
“I always look like this,” I defended myself.
“You absolutely do not,” she laughed.
One of the men moved closer to Aurora. Sergio straightened beside me automatically. Interesting. Very interesting. I looked at him slowly.
Sergio noticed. “No.”
I smiled faintly. “You haven’t even heard me yet.”
“I already know where this conversation is going, boss,” he groaned.
Chiara narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What conversation?”
I shifted Bruno higher on my arm before answering casually. “Aurora should marry Sergio.”
Silence. Complete silence. Even Luca stopped trying to climb me. Chiara stared at me. Sergio nearly choked on his whiskey. Across the ballroom, Aurora loudly threatened to break someone’s nose. Perfect timing.
“You cannot be serious,” Chiara whispered.
“I’m extremely serious,” I said.
Sergio rubbed a hand down his face. “Leo.”
“What?” I asked mildly. “You already protect her like a psychopath.”
“That is different,” he uttered.
“How?” I questioned. He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Exactly.
Chiara looked horrified. “Aurora would kill us.”
“No,” I said thoughtfully. “She’d threaten to kill us. Then she’d consider it.”
Which honestly wasn’t much better. Another man reached for Aurora’s arm. Sergio moved before thinking. Fast. Violent. His expression turned murderous as he intercepted the idiot halfway across the ballroom. Chiara watched the interaction carefully. Then slowly looked back at me.
“Oh no,” she whispered.
I smirked into my drink. Sergio leaned close to the unfortunate man and said something quietly enough not to disturb the party. The man went pale. Then disappeared. Aurora blinked up at Sergio.
And for the first time all evening… She smiled. Small. Dangerous. Interested. Well, well.
“I hate when you’re right,” Chiara muttered.
“I’m always right.”
“You literally got shot because you were wrong,” she reminded me.
“Minor inconvenience.” I smirked.
Her eyes rolled affectionately. Still unbelievable sometimes. I looked down at her quietly. Years ago she looked at me like I was the end of her life. Now she looked at me like home. The twins finally succeeded in climbing me simultaneously while Chiara laughed under her breath at my obvious suffering.
