Without waiting for me, she pushes her door open, swinging her legs out and stepping onto the paved driveway.
As I pop my own door and slide out of the driver's seat, my brow furrows deeply. Good actress? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is everything she does around me just a game? I watch the elegant swing of her hips as she walks toward the grand entrance of my family's estate, a heavy, unsettling knot tightening in my chest.
She might be a good actress, but there was absolutely nothing fake about the way she screamed my name against that wall.
I bite my tongue, quickening my stride to step up beside her just as we reach the carved mahogany entrance. I reach out and push the heavy double doors open myself.
The household staff is lined up in the foyer. They welcome us with stiff, practiced smiles, bowing their heads respectfully. One of the senior stewards steps forward. "Good evening, Mr. Gallo. Miss Caruso. The elders are already waiting for you upstairs in the private dining suite."
I don't bother answering him. I simply reach down and wrap my fingers tightly around Sienna's hand, anchoring her to my side as I lead her up the grand sweeping staircase. I glance down at her profile as we ascend, expecting to see a flicker of nerves.
Instead, her expression is completely relaxed and serene. There is no tension in her shoulders, no hesitation in her step. She looks like a queen heading toward her throne, not a lamb walking into a slaughterhouse.
Once we reach the heavy double doors that lead into the dining suite where the dinner is being hosted, I pull her to a sudden halt. I turn to face her, my grip on her hand tightening just a fraction.
“You don’t have to say anything once we’re in there,” I start. “You can just let me handle them. If they try to?—”
“Get out of my way and don’t insult me,” she cuts me off smoothly, her voice laced with an icy, unyielding authority.
Before I can even process the words, she slips her hand from mine, pushes the heavy wooden door open herself, and steps right into the room.
A sudden spike of raw heat shoots straight to my cock at the sheer, unadulterated confidence radiating off her. The girl has fucking teeth, and she isn't afraid to show them. But she’s already walking directly into a den of lions, so I force myself to push all thoughts of what I want to do to her against the nearest surface out of my mind. I harden my expression, square my shoulders, and follow her inside.
The private dining room is bathed in the warm, dim glow of a crystal chandelier. Sitting around a long, polished walnut table are the four pillars of the Gallo organization—the syndicate elders—alongside four of our long-standing senior members who help hold the infrastructure together.
Vittorio Moretti and Salvatore de Luca sit on the left, their ancient, calculating eyes immediately snapping to the doorway. They already met Sienna at the formal pre-wedding lunch two weeks ago, back when she was just a bargaining chip on a piece of paper. Beside them sit Nino Romano and Enzo Bellandi, the two traditionalists who have been the loudest about my recent "unstable" behavior.
Flanking the other side of the table are the veterans: Matteo, Alonzo, Giuseppe, and Eliseo. They are men who have bled for this family for decades, their faces hardened by years of street warfare and corporate ruthlessness.
The room goes dead silent, the heavy aroma of red wine and steak hanging in the air. I step up behind Sienna, placing a possessive hand on the small of her back, feeling the smooth silk of her dress beneath my palm. I look across the table, my voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
"Gentlemen," I rumble, my eyes sweeping over the gathered men. "Thank you for joining us tonight. I believe you all remember my fiancée, Sienna Caruso. Sienna, you remember Vittorio and Salvatore. These are elders Nino Romano and Enzo Bellandi. And over here, our long-standing senior members: Matteo, Alonzo, Giuseppe, and Eliseo."
Sienna doesn't flinch under their intense, scrutinizing glares. Instead, she offers them a perfectly sculpted, elegant smile that screams nobility. "It is an honor to meet you all properly," she says, her voice smooth and entirely composed.
Vittorio Moretti, a man whose face looks like weathered leather, arches a gray eyebrow. He exchanges a long look with Salvatore, who gives a slow, approving nod at her modest, impeccably elegant appearance. The deep emerald silk leaves everything to the imagination, projecting exactly the kind of dignity they expect from a future Donna.
"Miss Caruso," Nino Romano speaks up, his voice raspy but heavy with authority. He leans forward, resting his ring-covered hands on the table. "We were quite surprised when Alessandro abruptly altered the timeline of this union. In our world, sudden changes suggest volatility."
Before I can even open my mouth to snap at him, Sienna takes her seat with a graceful, fluid motion, looking directly into Nino’s hardened eyes.
"A strategic acceleration, Mr. Romano," she corrects him softly, her tone entirely respectful yet unyielding. "Alessandro and my father merely agreed that with the current shifts in the city's logistics, aligning our families sooner rather than later secures the perimeter for everyone involved. There is no volatility in securing one's empire."
Nino blinks, entirely caught off guard by her sharp, political response. I slide into the seat right beside her, a wave of dark pride washing over me. Good actress, indeed. She is absolutely playing them, and they are eating it right out of her hand.
The stewards quickly move in, pouring the heavy vintage red wine into our crystal glasses and serving the first course of the dinner. The clinking of silverware replaces the tense silence as dinner starts, the heavy aroma of truffles and seared meat filling the space.
However, the peace doesn't last long. Some of these men can't resist trying to find a weak spot in the armor.
“Sienna…” Matteo starts, leaning forward on his elbows. I instantly lock my jaw. I truly, deeply hate the overly familiar way he rolls her name off his tongue, like he’s trying to test boundaries.
“You will not address her like that,” I warn. “Watch your tongue, Matteo.”
Sienna doesn't miss a beat. She touches my hand, then gracefully tilts her chin up, meeting his eyes with a pristine, unbothered expression. “Miss Caruso to you,” she says, her voice dripping with polite venom.
Across the table, Alonzo and Giuseppe exchange a quick, sharp glance. I have to physically force my facial muscles to stay completely flat, because every instinct in my body wants to slam my hand on the table and shoutfuck yeahinto the air. The girl is an absolute natural.
“Do you think you’re suited to become Donna?” Matteo asks, recovering his sly grin as he baits the trap. He looks around the table, seeking an audience. “This is something we take very seriously in this family.”
