With a shove, Dante marches us all forward and out of the reception hall, away from all the curious and bemused glances of the wedding guests.
With every step, a cool feeling spreads further through my body, threatening to send me into my own personal ice age. This has gone so horribly wrong. I shouldn’t be here. I should have left the moment Rocco made the announcement.
Teo Vitale. The new don of the Guild.
The son of the family who tried to ruin mine.
The name alone is one my mother taught me to fear and despise. How quickly it triggers memories of a fraught history of violence and greed and death.
How much of my training has been to protect myself from him? How much of my education did I spend becoming a technological weapon to secure my family’s safety? How much have I studied him to ensure we always remained one step ahead?
There was always the possibility that I would see him today, and my instruction was not to engage under any circumstances.
This could jeopardize everything I’ve ever done to stay out of his line of sight.
“In here,” Dante grunts.
Suddenly, I’m shoved through a door to the side and into a near-empty conference room. The blade at my throat scratches across my skin. Mia doesn’t care that it draws blood as she pushes me to my knees.
“What the hell is going on?”
Finally, kneeling on the floor, my entire body succumbs to the cold. I’m frozen in place by the timbre of that voice.
“Gatecrasher,” Mia announces.
“Then chuck her out.”
Please. Please, please, please.
“You’re the goddamn don now, Teo,” Mia snaps. “She’s your responsibility.”
“She broke my nose,” Dante adds from behind me. It’s likely that he’s guarding the door.
I imagine his nose is already swelling. I imagine the blood dribbling down his chin so that I can distract myself enough to stop my fingers from trembling.
Come on, pull yourself together. It’s just fear.
He’s not the boogeyman. He’s just a person. A person who can bleed, just like everyone else.
“All right, all right!”
I stare at a spot on the pristine white and gold carpet, trying to regulate my breathing.
The only way I survive this is if I’m very, very smart. I can’t look at him. I can’t give him anything. Because the moment he learns my name, I may as well be dead.
“You.”
I keep staring at the carpet.
“Who are you?”
I don’t respond.
Smack.
My cheek burns, and I still don’t look up.
“Mia.”
