Page 58 of Sinful Bride

If Declan fails, I fail. If he's seen as weak, I'm seen as weak.

My survival is tied to his success now, like I said to him in the car. Whether I like it or not.

I push into the restroom and lock myself in a stall, my hands shaking slightly. I need to think about what this means, and what I'm supposed to do about it.

The truth is, I know this world better than Declan does. I understand the politics, the power plays, the subtle ways that respect is earned and lost. I could help him, guide him through the social minefield he's trying to navigate.

But why would I do that? Why would I help the man who humiliated me? The man I was forced to marry?

Because if he fails, you fail.

The thought is cold and practical, purely self-interested. It has nothing to do with the apology he gave me this morning. Nothing to do with the vulnerability I saw in his eyes. Nothing to do with the way he looked when he said he didn't want me to be afraid of him. This is about survival and protecting my own position, making sure that when people look at me, they don't see a woman who married down. They need to see a woman who made a strategic alliance that strengthened her position.

I repeat it to myself like a mantra as I leave the restroom and head back toward the ballroom. This is about self-preservation. Not about him. Not about caring what happens to him.

I'm almost back to the main room when someone steps into my path.

"Mrs. Murphy."

I look up and find myself face-to-face with Dante Moretti.

He's dressed in a dark suit, his hair slicked back, his expression pleasant and professional. He looks like he belongs here, like he's just another guest at the gala instead of a man who's supposed to be working security for my husband.

"Mr. Moretti." I keep my voice neutral and polite. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I'm part of the security detail tonight." He gestures vaguely toward the ballroom. "Making sure everything runs smoothly."

"Of course."

There's a beat of silence. He's studying me, as if looking for something. "I wanted to check in with you," he says finally. "Make sure you're settling in well. Marriage can be... an adjustment."

The words are innocuous enough. But there's something in the way he says them that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"I'm fine," I say carefully. "Thank you for your concern."

"Of course." He smiles. "It's just that I know how difficult it can be joining a new organization. New people, new ways of doing things. And Mr. Murphy is... well, he's different from what you're used to."

"Different how?"

"Less traditional." Dante's voice is smooth. "Less connected to the old ways. Some might say less... stable."

I study him, trying to figure out what he's really asking. What he's fishing for. "My husband is building something new," I say slowly. "That requires a different approach."

"Indeed." He nods. "And you support that approach?"

"I'm his wife."

"Of course. Of course." He holds up his hands in a gesture of apology. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise. I just wanted to make sure you're safe and that he's treating you well. That you're happy."

There it is. The real question underneath all the pleasantries. Are you loyal to him? Or are you still one of us?

"I appreciate your concern," I say, my voice cooling. "But I assure you, I'm perfectly fine."

"Good. That's good." He steps back, giving me space. "I just wanted you to know that if you ever need anything—if you ever feel unsafe or uncomfortable—you can come to me. I may work for your husband now, but I haven't forgotten where I came from. Or who your family is."

The implication is clear, to me, at least. I'm still loyal to the Capettis. If you need help, I'm here. Or maybe, I'm watching you. Reporting back. Making sure you remember where your real loyalties lie.

"Thank you," I say, keeping my expression neutral. "But that won't be necessary."