Page 57 of Ricardo

I button my jacket as we pause near the entrance. “How long are we required to stay?”

Mario glances at me. “Long enough to be seen.”

“An hour, then.”

“Two.”

“That seems excessive.”

“You say that every time.”

“And yet you keep inviting me.”

“I did not invite you,” he says. “I told you to come. You are my dealmaker, Ricardo.”

“I can make deals in an hour,” I say.

Victoria, standing on his other side in a deep green dress that makes at least three men near the entry try not to stare, looks between us with dry amusement. “Does this improve with age, or have you two been like this since childhood?”

“I would say it's gotten worse since childhood,” I say.

Mario smiles faintly. “He was more obedient then.”

“That is because I was smaller and had fewer options.”

Victoria laughs, and Mario’s expression softens immediately.

He does not mean to do it. He would probably deny it if I pointed it out. But I have known my brother all my life, and I know what it looks like when the rest of the room becomes less important to him.

Tonight, he stays close to her.

It's not obvious to those outside of the inner circle. But his hand rests at the small of her back when people approach. His body angles toward hers during conversation. His gaze cuts too quickly toward anyone who looks too long at her stomach, though there is barely anything to see yet beneath the cut of her dress.

The baby is not a secret.

The family knows. Our people know. There will be no formal announcement. The world will simply find out when it does.

Still, he is watchful.

Possessive.

Annoyingly happy.

I am glad for him.

And I don't blame him. After being widowed in the way he was, and after the attempt on Victoria’s life, I would be intolerable too.

The event itself is a charity obligation connected to the museum board, the kind of evening where checks with many zeroes are written.

Conti Enterprises is listed as a major sponsor, which means Mario must shake hands with those who would smile to his face, but whisper his name the moment his back is turned.

Useful people, mostly.

Hypocrites, entirely.

We make our way through the first group near the bar. A bank chairman and his wife. A developer whose son has a gambling problem and therefore speaks to Mario with gratitude. Two aldermen, one retired judge, three donors who treat Victoria with the careful friendliness people use when deciding whether a woman is powerful in her own right or only powerful by proximity.

They learn quickly.