Page 136 of Brutal Heir

If I’d been with anyone else, this would be the height of romance. But I was with Sebastian.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the grand facade of the Anantara Palazzo Naiadi Hotel, its neoclassical columns and intricate stonework glowing warmly under the soft light of ornate gold sconces.

A liveried doorman stepped forward with perfect precision, the brass buttons on his crisp uniform gleaming as he opened the door, offering a polite bow that matched the elegance of the setting.

Slipping my gloved fingers into his, I stepped out of the car, staring in wonder. Even with my attention drawn to the other elegant guests arriving at the hotel, I didn’t miss the look of fear that crossed the doorman’s face as his fingers tightened briefly around mine.

I didn’t have to turn. I knew all too well what had caused it.

Sebastian’s warm hand slid around my waist.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the hard look he gave the poor man.

Without a word, I slipped my fingers from the doorman’s grasp and clenched them in front of me. I rubbed my thumb over my ring finger, missing my usual band rings.

I briefly wished for a purse to fidget with, but I’d stopped carrying one in the evenings.

“Shall we?”

“Are we attending a party?”

“Yes. It’s a pre-party before the opera.”

My mouth fell open. “You’re taking me to the opera?”

Sebastian pulled me closer to his side, shielding me from the growing crush of guests as we entered the ornate hotel lobby. “The classic opera Rigoletto is playing this evening. I thought you would enjoy it.”

I clasped my palms together over my chest as I beamed up at him. “Truly? This is incredible.”

His hand tightened around my waist. “Are you pleased, sweetheart?”

Forgetting to be guarded against him, I laughed. “To see an opera while in Rome? I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

What could be more amazing than hearing the famous "La donna è mobile" while sitting in the iconic Teatro dell’Opera di Roma? It would be like stepping back in time to the Renaissance.

My first thought was that I couldn’t wait to tell my mother.

Then my stomach sank, dampening my excitement.

My mother still didn’t know I was in Rome.

After an attendant took our coats, we entered the ballroom.

It was a vision of opulence, with its soaring ceilings adorned with intricate gilded details and crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow.

I feverishly tried to take in every detail, filing it away in my mind for future inspiration.

Holding on to Sebastian’s arm, I bounced up on my toes as I stared at the arched windows framed by heavy velvet drapes. “What do you think about a Renaissance-inspired jewelry campaign but with a modern chic edge?”

Sebastian handed me a glass of champagne from a passing silver tray.

In my excitement, I took a large gulp, then I sneezed as the bubbles tickled my nose.

He pulled the glass from my hand and gave me a stern look. “Only one glass for you, so I suggest you savor it.”

Ignoring his reference to the last time I'd overindulged in champagne, I clapped my hands. “Perhaps instead of tapestry silks, we could do black leather. And we could tie it into the affordability of lab-created diamonds. Drape yourself in diamonds like a queen.”

Depositing my abandoned flute on another passing tray, Sebastian swept me into his arms and onto the dance floor. “We have a rule in Italy. Never talk business when there is pleasure to be had.”