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I freeze—until I see the humor in her eyes. She’s kidding.
I laugh, relieved. “Sure, why not?” I joke. “I can just see Nero and Caleb bonding over some bro-time.”
“They’ll be watching sports together in no time.” Juliet smirks, and I laugh again, trying to picture the two brooding, powerful men kicking back over a beer.
Never going to happen.
But it shows that Juliet isn’t oblivious to the reality of our situations, which only makes me like her more. Sure, I still have to pretend I’m wildly in love with Nero, but I’d take lying only 50% of the time with her over the 100% it takes to hang out with any of the other people in the room.
“I’ll call you,” I promise. “We’ll hang out soon.”
I wish I could stick to her side all night, but I know that Nero would want me mingling. The perfect hostess. And I need to keep being useful, so I leave her with the pastry chef, and circulate, making small talk and connections with the elite guests in attendance.
“I believe you are to thank for this lovely party?”
I pause, turning to the newcomer. He’s tall, with dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and a European accent I can’t place. His designer suit is tailored to fit his slender body, the dark blue color complimenting his pale skin.
I give him a polite smile. “I’ll take credit for hiring the party planner, but that’s all.”
He chuckles. “So modest, too. You must be the new Mrs. Barretti.”
“Yes, I’m Lily,” I reply, offering him my hand.
Instead of shaking it, he brings it to his lips, placing a kiss on the back. I’m not sure why, but something about the way he holds my eyes as he does this sets off warning bells in my mind. Something is off about this guy. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in Nero’s world, it’s to trust my instincts.
The man releases his grip. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Sergei.”
“Are you a friend of Nero’s?” I ask, trying to place him.
He gives a laugh. “Friend? Alas, no. I’m more of an… Associate.”
I figure that means he’s involved Nero’s shady dealings somehow.
“Well, I hope you’re enjoying the party,” I say brightly.
“I am. And I want to wish you luck in your marriage,” he adds. “You know, in my country, there is a tradition that a new bride should break a glass outside, in front of her new home, in order to have a happy marriage.”
I smile, just imaging hurling a champagne flute to the ground outside. That would raise some eyebrows. “Is that so?”
Sergei smiles. “They say that all conflicts in the marriage will stay outside of the home, much like the broken glass.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” I say, interested. “What country are you from?”
“Serbia,” he replies—before I feel a tight grip on my wrist, yanking me back.
It’s Nero. With fury in his eyes.
“Don’t talk to her,” he growls at Sergei. “Don’t even look at her.”
I’m shocked by the barely contained violence in his tone.
“Nero—” I start, but he speaks over me.
“You’re not welcome in this house.” He moves to place his body between Sergei and me.
There’s tension in every line of his muscles, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. “Get the hell out.”
“But why would I leave?” Sergei doesn’t seem phased by Nero. He meets his eyes with a cool smile. “When your lovely wife, Lily, has been so welcoming.”
