I sip champagne to avoid responding.
The bubbles tickle my throat.
Technically, I’m still too young to drink, which is odd considering I’m old enough to marry.
Of course, no one in this room cares that I’m under the drinking age.
The crimes committed by the men in this room far outweigh serving me champagne.
“This is a good match,” my father says with self-satisfaction. He’s not alone in thinking that. Three different men have already commented on what strong sons I'll give Alessandro. As if my womb is the only thing of value I bring to this arrangement. Of course, Alessandro made it clear he doesn’t want children. I wonder how that would play out with this crowd.
I watch Adriano guide Eva to a chair, his hand protectively at the small of her back.
The tenderness between them is unmistakable.
He married for love.
I have to remind myself that it isn't what Alessandro and I are doing.
We're forming a business merger, nothing more.
The ballroom suddenly feels suffocating.
Too many bodies, too much perfume, too many expectations.
I slip away while my father is deep in conversation with a judge.
No one notices as I duck through French doors onto the terrace.
The night air is cool, refreshing.
I move to the stone wall, staring out over the ocean.
Stars sparkle in the sky.
I inhale, then exhale, letting the stress go, a trick I learned in a yoga class.
The air shifts, energy zapping around me. I know without looking that it’s Alessandro.
“Your family seems happy,” I say without turning around. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
I glance over my shoulder, intrigued. “Not always. Your brother Adriano looks at Eva like she hung the moon. It’s refreshing. You don’t see that often in our world.”
He moves beside me, careful to keep his distance. “They earned their happiness.”
“By surviving you, you mean?” I can’t help my bluntness. “I’m told you threatened to kill your sister-in-law.”
A small smile flickers across his lips, and I can’t help but wonder what it means. “She wasn’t my sister-in-law at the time.” His gaze studies me, and I know he’s picking up on my probing. “You’ve been gathering intelligence.”
“Wouldn’t you?” I turn fully to face him. “I’m marrying one of the most dangerous men in New York. I’d be a fool not to learn what I can.”
His demeanor shifts slightly, and the tension eases for a moment. “You shouldn’t underestimate me, but neither should you fear me. I can be your hero as much as I can be your villain.”
“I don’t need a hero.”
He nods, as if he understands that I don’t want to be patronized or pandered to. I just want to be me.
