“They paralyzed anyone yet?” Gio asks lightly, eyes dark. “Or are we still warming up?”
“Just that you’re a sociopath with a lead foot,” Dante says, sliding a coaster across the table. “Standard Tuesday.”
Gio huffs. “Good to know the bar is low.”
The waitress drops the wine bottle and two glasses. Gio pours without asking. Fills mine halfway. Slides it toward me.
I look at the pale liquid. Then at him.
He takes a sip of his beer, throat working as he swallows. Still doesn’t look at me. He leans back, one arm draped along the back of my chair, fingers brushing my shoulder.
A claim.
A brand.
I feel the eyes of the room burning into my back—waiting for the crack, the discomfort, the retreat.
I pick up the glass. Take a sip. Cold. Crisp. Expensive. I set it down with a deliberate clink.
Gio’s fingers tighten slightly against my shoulder. He feels it. He knows I’m playing along.
“Zoë,” Dante says, turning to me. “How’s the portfolio? You hear back from Milan yet?”
The table goes silent.
Adrian freezes mid-chew. Declan’s gaze sharpens. Even Dante looks like he realizes he stepped on a land mine. Cole goes still, the beer label hanging halfway off the bottle in his fingers.
I freeze.
The rejection is still raw—an open wound I haven’t figured out how to close. Talking about it in front of Gio, who already knows, who already saw me at my lowest, feels like standing naked in a blizzard.
I paste on a smile. It feels brittle. “They decided to go in a different direction.”
“Fuck that,” Gio says.
It isn’t a question. It’s a verdict. He sets his beer down hard, glass thudding against wood.
“Language,” Adrian mutters.
Gio ignores him.
“They picked someone else,” Gio continues, eyes locked on mine. “Someone with a famous last name. Someone who gets to work once and go twice as far.”
I stare at him.
He isn’t comforting me.
He’s angry on my behalf.
It’s a dangerous distinction.
“It is what it is,” I say, steady even as my stomach twists. “I’m moving on.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he snaps.
“Rossi,” Declan warns.
“No,” Gio says, turning on him. “You don’t get it. She’s better than them. Better than the program they picked. They passed on her because she doesn’t fit their mold.”
