CHAPTER FIVE #2
Nausea filled my mouth and I swallowed down the bile, a bitterness that made me want to throw up even more. But I couldn’t possibly empty my stomach all over Matteo’s polished shoes.
Oh no, that would be the opposite of perfect.
Matteo brought the hand he was still holding up, pressing his lips to the back of my gloved hand. He smiled with practiced perfection. “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”
My father grinned proudly at his words and my brother huffed in approval.
I knew it was all for show. I wouldn’t fall for his charming act. Matteo was as fake as me.
But his words resonated through my ears, cold fear wrapping around my throat like a fist.
I blinked, looking away from Matteo, as I tried to get my nerves under control.
My gaze swept across the ballroom, taking in the opulent decorations, the crystal chandeliers casting golden light across the polished floor, the tables laden with champagne flutes, taking in every person in the room.
Faces I didn’t recognize, all of them carefully hidden by their masks.
Gooseflesh peppered my skin and my lower spine tingled.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My father was speaking but all the sound faded away.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My skin tingled again.
Like it always did…
When he was watching me.
I felt the warmth of his gaze before I could even see him.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Matteo’s hand tightened around mine. He still hadn’t let go of me, his hold almost possessive. But I couldn’t focus on his touch anymore.
My eyes were searching, finding, almost desperate to seek the one who had been relentlessly hunting me with his silent gaze.
Thud.
I didn’t understand the sudden obsession that filled me to find him in this sea of unfamiliar faces and wretched strangers.
Thud.
Until a glint in the corner of the ballroom finally captured my eyes.
A shadow among shadows, hidden in the perfect darkness. Away from everyone. Alone. Secretive. Dangerous.
Thud.
There, dressed in all-black, leaning against a pillar at the periphery of the ballroom, stood Adrian.
Unlike the other guests in their finery, he seemed to absorb the darkness rather than reflect the light.
His posture was deceptively casual, one shoulder pressed against the marble column, a crystal tumbler dangling from his fingertips.
I found you…
I knew it was him. Even with the simple and black masquerade mask hiding half of his face. Though it did nothing to hide that sardonic curve of his lips.
Only Adrian Salvatore could wear deception and such wickedness so casually. It was subtle yet unmistakable to those who chose to pay attention.
There was another round of applause.
It didn’t matter.
Everything became muted. The colors of the ballroom. The whispers of the people. The melody of the orchestra.
It all faded away…
Even as Matteo lifted our entwined hands.
Adrian lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip without breaking eye contact. Even from this distance, I felt the intensity of his gaze cutting through the pretense of the evening.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A heavy coolness settled on my left finger.
The corner of Adrian’s lips quirked up in an arrogant, wicked smirk.
I wanted to but I couldn’t look away.
My breath trembled when he took a step back, moving closer into the darkness until he was completely swallowed by it.
And then he was gone.
The tingling in my body disappeared, leaving me feeling so suddenly… cold. Empty.
“Serafina.”
I gasped at my name, the sound of it on Matteo’s lips, snapping me out of the sinful, corrupted spell I had been in.
My gaze swiveled to Matteo. I blinked looking at his face for a second, my head spinning, and then my eyes fell to our hands. And then I saw it.
The ring on my finger.
My engagement ring.
Oh…
“Do you like it?” Matteo asked. “It was my mother’s ring. I wanted it for you.”
Oh…
I stared at the ring for a long second like a silent, foolish ditzy girl.
Why couldn’t I speak?
God… I wasn’t breathing.
My chest rattled as I inhaled a shuddering breath and then exhaled.
Matteo squeezed my hand, harder than necessary. “Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and rough, only for me to hear.
I finally looked up. At my… fiancé.
Oh…
His eyes darkened. “Pay attention, Serafina. Smile and don’t make me look like a fool.” I almost flinched at the admonishment, but it was enough to snap me out of my daze. To remind me who I was… and why I was here… and who I belonged to.
I lifted my chin, meeting my fiancé’s eyes confidently and then I plastered the most perfect smile on my lips. “The ring is beautiful, Matteo. It’s everything I ever imagined.”
The words came out poised and perfectly practiced through my lying teeth.
Just then, the orchestra struck up a waltz, its melody weaving through the ballroom like a silken ribbon. Every tune was a masterful stroke, haunting and painfully beautiful. Matteo’s hand found the small of my back, his touch light but firm as he guided me to the center of the floor.
Every single pair of eyes were on us, watching carefully, studying us, seeking for flaws to gossip about. A weakness they could latch onto.
But Matteo and I gave them none.
We were perfect, selling the image of a loving couple like no other. “Our first dance,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
I managed a smile that felt brittle on my lips. “Indeed.”
His arm encircled my waist as we took position, our bodies maintaining a proper, respectable distance.
Yet even this proximity made my skin prickle beneath the satin of my gown.
The crowd around us dissolved into a blur of colors and masks as Matteo led me into the waltz, his movements precise and practiced.
One-two-three, one-two-three.
My body moved mechanically, perfectly, and I followed his lead flawlessly.
My lower spine tingled once… and my heart thundered. That familiar feeling returned, the one I had tried so hard to escape from.
Goddamn you, Adrian Salvatore.
I almost missed a step, but caught myself just in time. A mistake Matteo, my fiancé, didn’t miss. “You dance beautifully,” he said, his eyes studying my face. “Though your thoughts seem elsewhere.”
I forced myself back to the present. “Forgive me. It’s overwhelming… all of this.”
His lips curved into what might have been a genuine smile, though I couldn’t be sure. “I imagine it is. But you’re performing admirably. My father is impressed, and so am I. That’s no small feat.”
The compliment should have pleased me. Instead, it reminded me of what I was—a mere performance, a peace treaty with a beating heart, a political pawn.
As we turned, I caught glimpses of watching faces, all hidden behind ornate masks yet still somehow hungry in their observation.
I couldn’t see Adrian anywhere, but I knew…
I just knew he was there. The familiar sensation trailed up my spine, that awareness of being watched by eyes that saw too much crawled across my skin like phantom fingers.
I loathed how his eyes lingered, like he was trying to dig deep under my skin, sink into my flesh and tear out all my dark secrets with his teeth.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Your brother,” I began, uncertain why I was even asking, “is he still here?”
Something flickered in Matteo’s eyes. “Adrian comes and goes as he pleases. Why do you ask?”
“Merely curious.” I kept my voice light. “He seems... unpredictable.”
Volatile. Corruptive. Maddening.
Purely wicked and sinister.
But I said none of those words out loud.
“That’s one word for him.” Matteo’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly as he guided me through a turn. “My advice? Keep your distance from Adrian. He has a talent for complicating things.”
Other couples had joined us now, filling the dance floor with swirling fabrics and glittering jewels. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere in this sea of bodies and masks, Adrian’s stormy blue eyes were fixed on me. Following my every movement. Judging. Mocking. Devouring.
“I have no intention of being anywhere near your brother,” I assured Matteo, the lie bitter on my tongue.
The waltz continued, each step taking me deeper into a future I couldn’t escape. I felt the weight of the ring on my finger, heavy as a shackle despite its delicate appearance.
The music swelled around us, and Matteo executed a perfect turn that made my head spin for a moment before the world righted itself again. From the corner of my eye, I caught my brother watching, his expression unreadable behind his mask.
Damon never liked the Salvatores. He thought them… too unruly, too messy, too undisciplined. But he also knew how important this marriage was to our family, so while he had his own uncertainties, he still expected perfection from me.
I thought Damon was too rigid, but he was the heir, after all. The next boss of the Chicago Outfit. He wasn’t a terrible brother, but he had been in our father’s shadows for too long.
One-two-three, one-two-three.
Perfect, impeccable steps.
The waltz ended and polite applause rippled through the ballroom. Matteo bowed, and I curtsied, the picture of refined elegance. Before I could catch my breath, another figure approached.
“May I have this dance with my daughter?” my father asked Matteo, who relinquished my hand with practiced grace.
My father’s hold was different: firmer with aged authority. His hand guided me firmly through the steps, his control absolute, unlike Matteo's and mine.
“You have become quite a vision, Serafina,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “The years away from home have transformed you.”
I kept my face composed, though his words stirred something unexpected within me. “Thank you, Father,” I responded, ever so politely. My father rarely complimented me.
In fact, we barely spoke over the years. I could count on one hand the number of phone calls we’d had since he sent me away and I had to learn to live on my own.