Chapter 6 Sophia #2
With a sigh, I rest my hand on his shoulder and let him lead us in a slow dance. We’re barely moving, not that it matters. Nobody is here trying to win a contest as long as we maintain appearances. “Someone I used to know is here,” I confess. “I hadn’t seen him in four years. It was a surprise.”
“Oh.” The pressure against my lower back increases, or is that my imagination? “Boyfriend?”
“It’s complicated. We were friends when we were kids, and things sort of changed as we got older.
He ran off after my twenty-first birthday party, actually.
” My voice goes weak when I see Enzo’s stricken face in my head.
“Fell off the face of the earth. Until tonight, he could have been dead for all I knew.”
“I see. What’s his name?”
It’s a natural question. There’s nothing behind it, right? I’d want to know too. “Enzo Amato.”
After thinking about it, his shoulder lifts. “I’m not familiar with the name.”
“His family’s low-level. His uncle was a captain for my grandfather, but they had a falling out. So his family was brushed aside after that.”
“He must have done something right, or else he wouldn’t have gotten an invitation to an event like this,” Dante points out. “Some pretty deep pockets around here.”
He makes a good point, not to mention how well Enzo looks.
Miles away from the kid I used to know, who was always more comfortable in track suits and jeans than the tailored suit he’s wearing tonight.
It must have cost a small fortune, along with the sizable donation he’d have to make even to earn a place at the table, so to speak.
“Anyway, it threw me a little.” It takes more effort than it should to grin up at him. “That’s all.”
One of his thick eyebrows arches. “Do I need to meet this guy? Let him know there’s a new rooster in the henhouse?”
Something about his absurd choice of words makes me laugh, and that feels good.
It might be the first time tonight I’ve genuinely laughed.
“Don’t get your feathers ruffled,” I joke, and this time he laughs.
He should do more of that. Or maybe not, since the way his eyes glow is a little too appealing.
This is almost nice.
“Listen.” He clears his throat, his features pinching a little like he’s uncomfortable all of a sudden.
“Did I step on your foot?”
Another laugh. “No. I’ll let you know if you do.” Again, he looks uncomfortable. “I was a prick. I want to apologize. We’re in this together, right? It doesn’t have to be torture.”
Dang. I wasn’t expecting a serious conversation. “Right. We are in it together,” I muse, letting him guide me in a slow circle. “I shouldn’t take out my frustration on you, either. I know I’ve been doing that a lot.”
“Now that you mention it, you have.” Then he winks, and my heart does this strange fluttery thing. “But I get it. We were both forced into it. It’s nobody’s fault.”
There, we do not exactly agree. I’m not in the mood to get into a fight when things are actually running smoothly for once. Being this close to him, swaying gently to soft music, both of us dressed up and maybe a little buzzed, I don’t want to ruin it.
If I did, though, I would have to remind him I have nothing to do with the war between our families.
In our world, women don’t play roles like that.
We are supposed to sit on the sidelines and wait for our warriors to come off the field so we can feed and comfort them, stitch up their wounds, and praise them for their bravery.
I had nothing to do with the bloodshed or the violence.
But I have to make up for it.
The music fades, and it couldn’t happen at a better time. The telltale stinging behind my eyes means I need a minute to myself. “Excuse me,” I whisper once emotion swells in my chest and makes it tough to breathe. “I need to powder my nose.”
Dante opens his mouth like he’s going to ask a question, but he’s pulled aside by one of the event hosts, giving me the chance to slip away as gracefully as I can when what I want to do is run.
I have never felt so much like an animal in a snare, all because I was born a girl.
I’ve never had a choice but to perpetuate the cycle my mom and grandma and her mother and all the women before them lived through.
The bathrooms are located outside the ballroom, where the air is cooler without so many bodies pressed in on each other. I didn’t realize how flushed I got until now, when the air hits my overheated skin. Before I can reach my refuge, a familiar voice washes over me.
“You looked good out there.”
It’s like being tortured. Hearing a voice I’ve missed for so long, being with someone who used to be the center of my world. Wishing he had shown up at any other time, because I’m already overwhelmed enough, trying to keep up this charade for the public. And it’s only the first of so many events.
Turning slowly, I fight to keep a carefully pleasant expression on my face in case anyone notices me talking with a man who isn’t Dante. “We should have lunch sometime,” I suggest softly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to catch up here, now.”
Those eyes. Looking up into them now, I remember all the times I’ve stared into them in the past. So many memories overlap until it’s tough to breathe.
He searches my face with a frown, closing the gap between us in slow steps. “So that’s how it is? Sophia, this is me you’re talking to. I know it’s been a long time, but some things can’t change.”
Not this.
Anything but this.
My heart can’t beat any faster without giving out on me.
I glance toward the doors to the ballroom and pray Dante doesn’t choose this moment to come out looking for me. “I’m married now. You… you went away. I didn’t know where you were. And that’s okay. Besides, whatever you did is obviously working for you. You look great.”
He only scoffs before reaching out and taking my hand, squeezing until my rings press painfully into my fingers. “Please. We both know it’s bullshit. A Vitali married to a Santoro? It’s political.”
Something inside me is dangerously close to breaking because, of course, he’s right, but I can’t tell him.
It would be so nice if he were my friend right now, someone who would understand.
But there is an intensity to him that makes me nervous and uncomfortable.
“It’s done,” I whisper. “He is my husband. I am his wife. I need to try to build a life now.”
“You have to know I still love you.”
I can’t take this.
It’s too much.
“Enzo, don’t. Please. I’m sorry for the way things went. You’ll never know how sorry.” Looking down at our joined hands, I add, “You have to let go. Please.”
All he does is squeeze tighter, making me grind my teeth as the metal of my rings digs into my skin.
With his eyes darting over my face, he whispers, “Everything I’ve done the past four years, I’ve done it for you.
To be worthy of you. I told myself I would walk into your father’s house one day and show him he was wrong about me. And now I come back, and you’re—”
“Excuse me. Am I interrupting?”
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.
I’m sure I must look guilty from Dante’s point of view as he strides our way, especially when I yank my hand out of Enzo’s grip when surprise makes him loosen it.
But the truth is, my husband couldn’t have shown up at a better time.
I’m not sure what would have happened if he hadn’t.
Dante extends a hand toward Enzo. “Dante Santoro. I understand you’re an old friend of my wife’s.” The word hangs in the air thanks to the way he emphasizes it.
Enzo keeps him waiting an endless moment before accepting a handshake. “Enzo Amato. Yes, we are old friends, seeing each other for the first time in years. Forgive me if I kept her from you.”
“Not at all. What have you been doing with yourself?” Dante asks with a friendly smile that I don’t believe for a second. There’s a charge in the air. His jaw is tighter than usual when he asks, “Are you looking for work within the family now that you’re back in town?”
Oh, fucking hell. Could he be more condescending? I wish I could vanish.
Enzo chuckles and rubs the back of his neck before shrugging.
“As it turns out, I don’t need to work within any family.
I have my own business now. Things are going better than I hoped, and definitely better than anyone expected from me.
” The look he gives me is full of meaning, and I really, really wish it wasn’t.
He did it all for me? I never asked him for a thing.
Am I supposed to be grateful? Is that what he wants? He didn’t say a word for four years and could have been dead. I searched for him online, but he deactivated every account, and my emails bounced back. Was I supposed to wait for him?
“That’s good to hear,” I offer while my skin crawls with anxiety. Something tells me this could go badly if it doesn’t end soon. “Please, Enzo, consider my offer. I would love to catch up at another time and learn more about your business.”
“I would love to hear about it too.” That’s when Dante does it.
He fires a warning shot across the bow by sliding a possessive arm around my waist, the way he did when we were having our pictures taken.
Only this time, he leans down and brushes his lips against my cheek, letting them linger before nuzzling me affectionately.
Enzo’s face hardens before he gives us a quick nod. “I’m sure you have more glad-handing to do tonight. I have a few folks I’m looking forward to seeing, myself. If you’ll excuse me.” He doesn’t look at me again before walking away, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
All I can do is stare after him, but not because I’m longing for him or anything like that.
Strangely, there’s none of the old feeling stirring in my chest. I had always imagined that there would be, if I ever saw him again.
Like everything I stored up for so long would come busting out, filling the world with light, color, and magic.
Enzo’s not what I’m concerned with. I’m only staring after him because I’m afraid to look at Dante.
And not because I’m afraid of him.
I’m afraid if I take a look at his smug face, I’ll have to kill him, and there are too many witnesses.
Barely moving my lips, I whisper, “Why didn’t you piss on me to make sure you marked your territory?” It’s a miracle I can get the words out, trembling the way I am, while a cold, sick feeling spreads through me.
“Don’t be so dramatic. You sound like Guilia.”
Yes, that’s what I want to hear at a time like this. No wonder Dante was still single in his early thirties. “Let go of me,” I warn, mindful of the people wandering in and out of the ballroom only feet from where we’re standing. “I need to get out of here.”
He lets go but won’t leave my side while I do my best to make a graceful exit. Lifting a hand and smiling at a man who’s a stranger to me, Dante mutters, “You can’t leave this early.”
“Funny, because I am.” And he’ll let me, unless he wants to watch me dissolve in a puddle of tears in the middle of the hotel lobby. Looking up into his eyes, I whisper, “Let me go. Make excuses, I don’t care what you tell them.”
Something finally gets to him, facing me in the middle of an ornate hotel lobby. It could be the tears I’m trying and failing to blink back. His expression shifts from irritation to concern. “I’ll go with you. It’s both of us or neither of us.”
“No,” I whisper, heart sinking. That isn’t the point. “I’d be better alone.”
Either he doesn’t hear or doesn’t care. In a flash, his phone is out of his pocket and held against his ear.
“We’re leaving.” Wrapping an arm around mine, he practically pulls me closer to the ornate doors leading outside.
From where we’re standing, I see one of the guards who came with us waiting by the curb, watching for the car.
“I’m going to need you to tell me the truth.” As he speaks, Dante keeps his gaze trained on his guy, waiting until it’s time to go out. I guess we can’t take risks. I watch a muscle twitch in his jaw before he asks, “Who was that guy to you? Because he looked like he was about to rip my head off.”
“It’s in the past, my private past.” Can’t I have anything of my own?
“I don’t care personally,” he retorts. “I care whether some whack job is gunning for me.”
My mouth opens to protest, but snaps shut when I remember how different Enzo is now—chiseled and hard. What sort of business is he in now? What did he have to do to get where he is? Maybe I don’t know him anymore.
“We wanted to get married.” My voice is flat, emotionless.
It’s the only way I’ll be able to get through this.
“On the night of my twenty-first birthday, we told my dad we were in love, and Enzo asked for my hand. Dad went ballistic and told Enzo to leave and never step foot over our threshold again. Tonight is the first time I’ve set eyes on him or spoken to him since then.
” I’m breathless, drained by my confession, but there’s something like relief behind it.
Until his eyes narrow. “So he showed up here to start things up again?” he asks. “Does he not know what I could do to him?”
I don’t know what’s worse, my disappointment or my disbelief. “That’s what you took from the story?”
The arrogance of him snickering. “I’m supposed to believe he showed up a week after our wedding by accident? Your father has no say anymore, and he wanted to test the waters. See if you and I are real.”
That can’t be true. Can it?
He believes it, that much is for sure, flaring his nostrils like a bull ready to charge back into the ballroom so he can gore Enzo. “He’s not coming anywhere near you until I know more about him. And maybe not even then,” he decides, staring into my eyes until I have to look at the floor.
It’s too much, all of it. I should resent the hell out of him for giving orders, right? I definitely should not lose my breath and get a little moist at the way he stares through me. I should hate the growl in his voice when he gets all possessive and tell him where to stick his caveman attitude.
And I will, as soon as I’m finished swooning and maybe kissing his face off.
Before I can do anything like that, he nods at the guard’s signal, then takes my arm to whisk me straight out to the waiting limousine. I barely feel the light mist that’s started to fall. I barely feel anything but Dante’s touch grounding me.
The past is over.
This is now.
And right now, I think I’m crushing on my husband.