But I'm acutely aware of Bianca's gaze following us across the room.
Names and faces blur together.
I smile through it all. I’ve been to plenty of parties and galas, but this one is different. This time, I'm not hiding bruises or breaks. This time, I’m protected and safe. This time, I'm Dante's wife, wearing a gown that makes me feel like a queen.
During a lull, I excuse myself to the ladies’ room.
It’s empty, and I study my reflection in the mirror. I’m not the same woman I was a week ago. I look more alive, there’s a trace of a smile curving the corners of my lips, and?—
The door opens, and Bianca glides in.
She doesn't acknowledge me at first. Just checks her reflection, reapplies lipstick with slow, deliberate strokes. Then her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
"You know," she says conversationally, "Dante was supposed to marry me."
Ice floods my veins.
"We've been inseparable since we were children." She turns to face me, and her smile is all venom. “A perfect couple. Everyone said so."
I can't speak. Can't move.
"But then you came along." She steps closer, and I resist the urge to back away. “And suddenly Dante is forced to marry for political reasons. To keep the peace with the Bratva.”
Each word lands like a slap.
Bianca leans in, close enough that I can smell her perfume and see the cruelty in her eyes. “It’s awful how his position as Don forces him to make such sacrifices.”
My face remains impassive. I hold the mask—a lifetime of practice won't let it slip now—but inside, my demons rise.
My father's voice echoes in my head:You're worthless. You're nothing. No one will ever want you.
"Well." I force my voice to stay steady, even as my heart shatters. “We all make choices, I guess.”
I walk past her with my head high, my spine straight, and I don't let her see me shake until I'm safely in a stall with the door locked.
Dante
I'm waiting outside the ladies' room when Polina emerges.
Her smile has dimmed.
I don't like it.
"Everything okay?"
"Of course." The words come too quickly.
I know evasion when I hear it. I don’t know why the sudden mood change, but I think I have a solution.
I take her hand in mine and lead her away from the crowd. Past the main ballroom, down a service corridor, through a door marked STAFF ONLY.
"Dante, what are you?—"
"Shh." I pull her into a darkened hallway.
The music from the party fades.
I turn to face her, backing her against the wall. My hands cage her in, palms flat on either side of her head.
