I look like I belong in his world. The thought still feels surreal.
"Ready?" Salvatore appears in the doorway, devastatingly handsome in a black tuxedo. His eyes darken when he sees me. "Cristo, you're beautiful."
"You don't look so bad yourself.
Salvatore’s hand tightens slightly around mine.
“Stay close,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear it. “Everyone inside is about to decide what they think of you.”
I glance up at him. “And what if they don’t like what they see?”
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.
“Then they’ll learn to.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Salvatore
Inever thought I’d find a woman worthy of the Vitale name. Now I find myself wondering if I’m the one who isn’t worthy of her.
Representatives from all five families mingle with practiced ease, their smiles sharp as knives, their eyes constantly calculating.
But none of them are looking at each other.
They're looking at Valentina.
She walks beside me, her hand resting lightly in the crook of my arm, and she's fucking magnificent. The royal blue gown fits her like it was painted on, and the diamonds at her throat catch the light with every breath she takes.
She's nervous, I can feel the slight tension in her fingers—but she doesn't show it. Her spine is straight, her chin lifted, her expression perfectly composed.
She looks like she was born to stand at my side.
"Salvatore." Antonio Moretti approaches with his wife on his arm. "So good of you to join us."
"Antonio." I shake his hand, keeping my grip firm. "Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Valentina."
Antonio's eyes flick to her, assessing. "Yes, Valentina Marino,” “It’s Vitale,” I interrupt. No emotion. Correction.
“Hm. Any relation to Marco Marino?"
"My father," Valentina says smoothly. Her voice doesn't waver.
"Ah." Antonio's smile sharpens. "I see. How… interesting."
The implication hangs in the air, that she's here as payment for her father's sins. That she's a transaction rather than a choice.
I feel Valentina tense beside me, but before I can respond, she does it herself.
"My father's choices are his own," she says, her voice carrying enough edge to make it clear she won't be talked down to. "I'm here because Salvatore asked me to be. And because I chose to say yes."
Antonio's eyebrows rise, surprised by her backbone. I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips.
That's my girl.
"A woman with her own mind," Antonio says, recovering smoothly. "How refreshing." He inclines his head. "Congratulations to you both."
We move through the room, and the pattern repeats. The Grecos. The Calabrese. The Volcovs. Each family representative is sizing up Valentina, looking for weakness, trying to understand the game I'm playing by bringing her here.
