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Marco’s hand tightens on my knee.
Sophia’s smile is slow and gentle. “I think that’s brilliant.”
Enzo considers my proposal for a long time, weighing my words, my loyalty, and my place in this world I’ve chosen. Then he nods once.
“We make it happen tomorrow.”
The engagement party exceeds every expectation.
Sophia has transformed the main hall into a scene from a fairy tale. String lights weave across the ceiling in delicate webs, spreading soft gold colors across the room. Flowers crowd the tables, filling the space with sweet perfume that mingles with the aroma of expensive cuisine.
If I didn’t know better, I’d never have guessed I’m amid dangerous people.
The Benedetti famiglia shows up in full force. Capos and soldiers arrive with their wives and families. The celebration includes both the old guard and the new.
I wear an emerald green dress that Sophia says makes my eyes “otherworldly,” and my hair falls in loose curls down my back. I feel simultaneously beautiful and terrified, and I can’t wait to find the man whose presence would erode some of that latter emotion.
Marco finds me before the party officially starts, and for a moment, I forget to be nervous. He wears a black suit that fits his wide shoulders perfectly and no tie, the top button of his shirt undone in a single concession to informality from a man who approaches all else like a military exercise. If he ever walked into my ER dressed like this, my hands would stop mid-suture.
He gives me an arm, and when I take it, he walks me to a corner of the kitchen. I’m breathing through my nerves and counting my heartbeats.
“You don’t have to do this,” he whispers to me and me alone. “We can find another way.”
“I know.” I turn to face him, my chest tightening as I spy the worry in his eyes. “But I don’t want another way. I want this.”
He draws me close for a slow, deep kiss, his hand cradling the back of my head. When he pulls back, my nerves have settled.
The party is a blur of faces and congratulations. I smile until my cheeks ache, accept embraces from women I’ve barely met, and chitchat about famiglia traditions I’m still learning. Marco works the room with his easy charm, encouraging people to forget that he’s dangerous.
Then Nonna Rosa appears in all her Benedetti matriarchal glory. Sophia mentioned her earlier this week, describing a woman whose presence—when she chooses to wield it—silences crowds. She’s small and silver-haired and carries the grim demeanor of a woman who’s forged a life for herself surrounded by danger. She wades through the crowd like a shark through water, and everyone parts for her.
When she closes in, she stops and considers me with eyes that have seen just about everything. “So…you’re the Dottoressa?”
“Yes, Nonna.” Despite the bottomless pit opening up in my belly, my voice comes out even.
She studies me without blinking. Then she reaches into her pocket and produces a ring crafted of antique gold. It has a bright ruby in the center, surrounded by diamonds. The piece is clearly generations old and heavy with history.
“This belonged to Gabi Sr.’s mother.” She holds it out. “She was a teacher who married into this family and claimed it as her own. She became irreplaceable.” Her eyes never leave mine. “Sound familiar?”
My throat constricts. “I can’t… It’s too much…”
“You can, and it’s not.” Nonna presses the ring into my palm. The metal is warm from her skin. “Marco’s a good boy. Broken, but good. You make him want to be better, yes? That is enough.”
Marco appears beside me, recognition flaring across his face when he sees the ring. “Nonna…”
“Hush.” Nonna waves a hand imperiously. “Put it on her finger. Make it official.”
Marco regards me with vulnerability and hope in his eyes. “Only if she wants.”
My heart stumbles as I stretch out my hand.
His fingers don’t waver as he slides the ring onto my finger, which fits perfectly.
The guests applaud, but Marco’s intense stare cuts straight through the noise. He’s been watching me like that all night, and now I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his mind.
“Come with me.” His growl is deep and commanding. He doesn’t ask. He just takes my hand and leads me away.
We slip through a side door into a storage room, and the door clicks shut behind us. The room is quiet, and the moon cuts through the white drapes on the windows.
