Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Bianca
I need to get away from him.
From Dante. And this damned dance floor.
I excuse myself with a murmured word about needing the powder room, and he lets me go with a look that says this conversation isn't over.
The powder room is down a long hallway lined with family portraits—generations of Vitales staring down at me with cold eyes. I'm almost there when a voice stops me.
"Excuse me, miss?"
I turn. Richard—the client from earlier—is standing a few feet away, looking uncertain.
My goodness, not again.
"Yes?" I keep my voice steady, pleasant, like we're strangers.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but—" He steps closer, lowering his voice. "I've been thinking about it all night. I'm certain we've met before."
"I don't think so." I try to move past him, but he shifts, blocking my path without being obvious about it. We're standing too close now, in a quiet corner of the hallway. To anyone watching, it would look intimate and I can’t have that.
"I never forget a face," he continues. "And yours—there's something so familiar. Il Solito? About three years ago?"
My heart hammers. "I've never been to Il Solito."
"Are you sure? Because I could swear—"
"I'm a teacher," I cut him off, my voice tight. "I teach second grade in Queens. I can barely afford to eat at Olive Garden, let alone Il Solito. You must be thinking of someone else."
He studies me, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. The pieces clicking into place despite my denial.
"I'm not trying to cause trouble—"
"Then stop talking to me." The words come out sharper than I intended. "Please. You have the wrong person."
"But—"
"She said she doesn't know you."
We both freeze.
Caterina Bellandi is standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, that venomous smile playing on her lips. How long has she been there? How much did she hear?
Shit, shit, shit, this is not going well.
"Uncle Richard," she says, walking toward us. "What are you doing cornering Dante's girlfriend in a dark hallway?"
Uncle.
The word hits me like a punch to the gut.
My life just became hell.
"Caterina." Richard steps back immediately, looking flustered. "We were just—"
"Just what?" She stops next to us, her eyes flickering between our faces. Taking in how close we were standing. How nervous I look. How guilty Richard appears. "Having an intimate conversation? How fascinating."
"It's not what you think," Richard says quickly. "I thought I recognized her from somewhere, but she says I'm mistaken—"
"I'm sure she does." Caterina's smile doesn't waver. "Uncle Richard, I believe Aunt Margaret is looking for you. Something about the gift for Giulio?"
Richard glances at me, conflict written all over his face. Then he nods and walks away, leaving me alone with Caterina.
The temperature in the hallway seems to drop ten degrees.
"So." She leans against the wall, watching me with fully amused eyes. "That was very interesting."
"We were just talking." I straighten, refusing to show fear even though my pulse is racing.
"Were you?" She tilts her head, studying me like a cat with a cornered mouse. "Because from where I was standing, it looked very... intimate. My uncle, a married man, alone with you in a powder room. Standing so close. Having such an intense conversation."
"It wasn't—"
"And the way he looked at you." She pushes off the door, walking closer. "Like you had history. Now why would my uncle know a schoolteacher from Queens?"
My mouth goes dry.
"I don't know what you're implying—"
"I'm not implying anything. Yet." She stops a foot away, her perfume cloying in the small space.
"But I will be doing some research. Because something about you doesn't add up, Bianca.
The clothes, the manners, the way you handled yourself with me earlier—you're trying too hard to seem innocent. To seem modest."
"Or maybe I just am innocent."
She laughs. "No one in Dante's world is innocent. We all have secrets. Skeletons we'd prefer stayed buried." Her eyes glitter. "The question is—what are yours?"
"I don't have to listen to this." I try to move past her, but she blocks my path.
"You're nothing," she says, her voice dropping to something cold and deadly. "A temporary distraction. A placeholder until Dante comes to his senses and realizes what he needs. And when that happens—when he's done with you—I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what you are."
Something in me snaps.
I've spent all night being pushed around. Being controlled. Being told what to wear, what to drink, who to be.
I'm done.
"You think I'm scared of you?" I step forward, getting in her face despite the height difference. "You think your threats mean anything? I've survived worse than you, Caterina. I've scraped and clawed my way through things that would break someone like you."
"Someone like me?" Her voice rises.
"Someone who's had everything handed to her.
Power. Status. Beauty. You've never had to fight for anything in your life.
Never had to make impossible choices just to survive.
" I smile, sharp and mean. "So go ahead.
Do your research. Dig up whatever you want.
But know this—I'm not going anywhere. And the more you come after me, the more Dante's going to see you for what you really are. "
"And what's that?"
"Desperate." I lean in close, my voice dropping. “You're so threatened by me—by a nobody from Queens—that you're following me into hallways and making threats. That's pathetic."
Her eyes flash with fury, her perfect composure cracking. For a moment I think she might actually hit me, her hand twitching at her side.
But she doesn't.
Instead, she leans in close, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "You have no idea who you're dealing with. No idea what I'm capable of."
"I couldn’t care less,” I say, even though my heart is pounding.
I’m definitely going to regret this later.
"Oh, you will." She straightens, her smile returning but colder now. "I will destroy you, Bianca Mancini. I'll dig up every secret you're hiding. Every lie you've told. And when I do, when everyone knows exactly what you are, Dante won't be able to save you. He won't even want to."
She turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
And the fear is back, cold and sharp in my chest.
Because she's right about one thing—I do have secrets. Dangerous secrets that could ruin everything if they come out.
And if Caterina keeps digging, if Richard decides to talk, if anyone else from that life recognizes me—
It's not just Dante's plan that will fall apart.
It's my mother's treatment. My life. Everything.
I make it back to the ballroom, my hands shaking, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.
Dante is standing by the bar, talking to his father. He sees me immediately, and something in my expression must give me away because his eyes narrow.
He excuses himself and crosses to me in three strides.
"What happened?" His eyes search my face. "You look—"
"It's nothing." I pull away. "I just need to leave. Please. Can we go?"
He studies me for a long moment. I can see him calculating, trying to figure out what I'm not saying.
"We'll leave in ten minutes," he says finally. "After my father's speech. Then I'm taking you home."
I nod, not trusting my voice.