Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dante
We make it back to the ballroom with our clothes straightened and our masks in place.
Almost like we didn't just fuck like teenagers who couldn't wait.
And I sure as hell hope I don’t look like I want to drag Bianca right back and bury myself deep inside her.
I can’t stop wanting her and it’s doing shit to my head.
My hand rests on Bianca's lower back as we walk through the crowd. The ring in my pocket feels heavier than it should, like a very annoying, insistent reminder of the decision I made. The one I'm planning to execute tonight, in front of everyone.
Make it official. Make it real.
Because why the hell not?
"Dante." Caterina appears in front of us, her smile sharp enough to cut. "I was hoping we could have a word. You, me, Bianca, and your father."
My jaw tightens. "Thank you, Caterina, but I’m not interested."
The female is all about drama and I’m not for that tonight.
"I think you'll want to hear this." Her eyes slide to Bianca, cold and victorious as if she knows something I don’t. "It concerns your... girlfriend."
And… she knows something I don’t.
I narrow my eyes at her.
Bianca's hand tightens on my arm. I can feel the tension radiating from her, the fear she's trying to hide.
What the hell?
"Fine." I keep my voice level. "Where?"
"The library. Your father's already waiting."
Of course, he is.
This is going to be bad, I can feel it.
We follow Caterina through a side hallway to a room lined with books. My father stands by the window, a glass of scotch in hand, looking every inch the disappointed patriarch.
Nothing unusual.
"Close the door," he says without turning around.
I do. The click of the lock sounds too loud in the quiet room.
"This better be important," I say. "We were leaving."
"Oh, it's important." Caterina moves to a desk, picks up a manila folder. "I've been doing some research on Miss Mancini. And I found some very... interesting information."
My hand slides into my pocket, fingers closing around the ring. Whatever this is, whatever game she's playing, it doesn't matter. I've already made my choice.
"Caterina—"
"Did you know," she continues, opening the folder, "that your girlfriend used to be an escort?"
The room goes silent.
Bianca goes rigid beside me. I can feel her starting to shake.
I think I’m also frozen.
"Not just any escort," Caterina pulls out photos, spreads them across the desk. "A high-end one. Catering to wealthy clients. Many of whom are in this room tonight."
My bones are frozen but I force myself to look. The photos show Bianca—younger, different hair, but unmistakably her—at restaurants, hotels, entering luxury apartments.
Fuck.
"Client lists." Caterina produces more papers. "Hotel receipts. Payment records. Three years of documented evidence that your girlfriend sold herself."
"That's enough." My voice comes out flat.
"Is it?" She looks up, eyes gleaming. "Because I also have testimony from several clients. Including my uncle Richard. Remember him?” She asks, turning to Bianca. “The man she was so cozy with in the powder room at your father's party," she adds, turning back to me.
Bianca makes a small sound. Broken. Devastated.
"He recognized her immediately," Caterina continues. "Confirmed everything. She charged two thousand dollars for dinner and conversation. Very... wholesome services, apparently. Though I'm sure some clients wanted more."
I just stand rigid. I have no idea what to think yet. But I’d be damned if I let this bitch’s plan work.
"Stop." I step forward.
"Your girlfriend is a whore, Dante." My father finally turns around. "A common prostitute who sold herself like—"
"I said stop." The words come out as a snarl.
"Why?" Giulio takes a long drink. "Because the truth hurts? Because you've been parading around a woman who's been with God knows how many men in our social circle? Do you have any idea what this does to our family name?"
I grit my teeth. "I don't care."
"You should." Caterina gathers the evidence. "Because I'm going to make sure everyone knows. Every judge you've ever dealt with. Every politician. Every business associate. They'll all know that Dante Vitale's girlfriend used to fuck them for money."
Rage burns through my chest, white-hot and consuming.
"Give me that." I cross the room in two strides, snatch the folder from her hands.
"D-Dante, don't—" Bianca starts.
I tear it. The photos, the lists, the receipts—all of it. I rip them into pieces and let them fall like confetti on Caterina's expensive shoes.
"I don't need your proof," I tell her. "I don't need your evidence or your threats or your uncle's testimony. Whatever Bianca did before she met me is her business. Not yours."
"How noble." Caterina's voice drips venom. "But it won't matter. I have copies. Digital backups. Testimonials from a dozen men who can verify everything. You can tear up paper all you want—the truth is already out there."
"Then why are we here?" I step closer to her. "If you're so confident, why the private meeting? Why not just release everything?"
"Because I'm giving you a choice." She smooths her dress, composed despite my proximity. "End this farce with her. Publicly. At this gala. Announce that you've realized your mistake. And I'll keep quiet."
"For how long?"
"For as long as you behave." Her smile returns. "Marry me. Unite our families like your father wants. And your little teacher's past stays buried."
I laugh. Actually laugh, the sound bitter in the quiet room. "You think I'd choose you over her? After this?"
"I think you'll choose your career. Your reputation. Your position with Matteo." She tilts her head. "Because if this gets out, you're done. Every deal you've made, every connection you have—they'll all question your judgment. Wonder what other mistakes you've made. You'll be a liability."
"She's right, Dante." My father sets down his glass. "This will destroy you. Destroy us. We're already recovering from my scandal. We can't afford another one."
I turn to look at him. Really look at him. And I see it—the fear underneath the anger. The desperation of a man clinging to relevance.
"You knew," I say slowly. "You knew about this before tonight. That's why you were asking questions. Why you said something seemed off."
"I had suspicions." He doesn't deny it. "Caterina confirmed them."
"And you're using it to control me."
"I'm using it to save you from yourself!" His voice rises. "She's a whore, Dante! A prostitute! And you're willing to throw away everything for her?"
The word hits me over and over because, the question really is, am I willing to throw everything away for Bianca? Or is it because of what everything going on does to Bianca?
She flinches. Actually flinches, like he's struck her.
"Don't call her that." I say before I can stop myself, my voice drops to something dangerous.
I look at Caterina. At my father. At the pieces of evidence scattered on the floor.
Then I turn to Bianca.
She's standing perfectly still, her face pale, hands clasped in front of her. Looking at nothing. Like she's disappeared inside herself to escape this moment.
"We're leaving," I say.
"Dante—" my father starts.
"I said we're leaving." I take Bianca's arm, guide her toward the door. "And if either of you come near her again, if you so much as mention her name, I will end you both. Professionally. Financially. Any way I can. Are we clear?"
Silence.
"I'll take that as a yes."
I unlock the door, pull Bianca out into the hallway. She moves like a puppet, mechanical and empty. It’s the first time I have seen her like this and I don’t like it.
We don't go back to the ballroom. Don't say goodbye to anyone. Just head straight for the exit, past the valets, to where Tony's waiting with the car.
"Boss?" He sees my face. "Where to?"
"The rooftop." Not home. Not my father's. The private one I bought three years ago. The one I go to when I need to think without anyone watching. "The one in Tribeca."
"Yes, sir."
Bianca doesn't speak during the drive. Doesn't look at me. Just stares out the window at the passing lights, her reflection ghostly in the glass. She’s shivering though, even though it’s hot out tonight, her teeth clatters and I see her bite down on her tongue to stop it.
I want to say something. Want to tell her it's going to be okay, that we'll figure this out, that I don't care about her past.
But I can't. Because I'm too busy calculating.
Caterina has copies. Digital evidence. Multiple witnesses. If she releases it, the story will spread like wildfire. Every news outlet, every gossip blog, every person in our world will know within hours.
And my father is right, they will question me. My judgment. My fitness to lead. Matteo will have to distance himself from me to protect the family. Deals will fall apart. Alliances will crumble.
Everything I've built could disappear.
Because I chose her.
Fucking hell.
The rooftop building is quiet this late. We take the private elevator that goes straight to the top. Bianca follows me in silence, her heels echoing on the marble floor.
We step out onto the roof. The city spreads below us—a sea of lights and possibilities and danger. The same view I've used to make every major decision in my career.
The same view where I have to decide now if I can keep her.
"Say something," Bianca finally speaks. Her voice is small. Broken. "Yell at me. Tell me I'm exactly what your father called me. Just—say something."
I stand still for a while, choosing my words wisely because a lot can be damaged or repaired tonight through words we aren’t thinking through.
When I mull over everything in my head, the strongest question that remains is. "Why didn't you tell me?"
I hear her soft intake of breath at that question, and she stays so silent that I think she’s going to ignore me.
"Because I was ashamed." She finally whispers, wrapping her arms around herself. "Because I knew this would happen. That someone would recognize me. That it would ruin everything."
"You should have told me anyway."
"Why? So you could judge me? Look at me the way your father did? The way Caterina did?"
"So I could protect you!" The words explode out of me. "So I could prepare for this. Plan for it. Do something before Caterina fucking got her claws in."
"There's nothing you could have done." She turns to face me. "The past doesn't go away just because you want it to. I was an escort. I slept with men for money. That's the truth. And now it's going to destroy both of us."
"How long?" I force myself to ask. "How long were you—"
"Three years. Starting when I was twenty. I quit when I met Adrian, when he promised to help with my mother's bills." Her laugh is bitter. "Look how that turned out."
"And you never—" I stop myself.
"Never what? Enjoyed it? Wanted to do it? Of course not. I did it because the alternative was watching my mother die." Her eyes are dry, but there's devastation in them. "I did what I had to do. We all do. And I'm not going to apologize for surviving."
I should say something. Should tell her I understand, that I don't judge her, that her past doesn't change how I—
How I what?
The thought freezes me in place.
How I feel about her.
Christ. What am I thinking?
"Caterina has leverage," I say instead, forcing myself back to strategy. "She'll use it. My father will support her. They'll make sure the story spreads until it's everywhere."
"I know."
"It will destroy your teaching career. The school board won't keep you once parents find out. They'll call you a danger to children. A bad influence."
She takes a deep, steadying breath. "I know."
"And it will hurt me. My reputation. My position with Matteo. Every deal I've made will be questioned. Every alliance will be reconsidered."
"I know." Her voice breaks. "Dante I… I think the best would be if I left."
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
"What?"
"I'm leaving." She straightens her shoulders, trying for strength she doesn't have. "Tonight. I'll pack my things, leave your house, disappear. You can tell everyone we broke up. That you found out about my past and ended it. Protect yourself."
"No."
"Dante—"
"I said no." I close the distance between us. "You're not leaving."
"I have to! Don't you see? If I stay, I destroy you. Me. Everything we've worked for, everything you've built—it all falls apart because of me. Because of choices I made that I can't take back."
"I don't care."
"You should care!" She shoves at my chest. "You should care about your reputation, your position, your future. You should choose all of that over me. Over whatever this is between us."
"And what is this?" I grab her wrists, hold her still. "Tell me, Bianca. What is this?"
She looks up at me, and I see it. The same realization I'm having. The same truth we've both been avoiding.
"I don't know," she whispers. "But it's not worth your whole life."
"What if you are?" The words come out before I can stop them. "What if you're worth more than all of it?"
Tears spill down her cheeks. "Don't say that. Don't make this harder than it already is."
"Too late." I pull her against me, feel her shake. "It's already hard. It's already complicated. And I'm already in too deep to let you walk away."
She cries into my chest, her hands fisting in my jacket. And I hold her while the city moves below us, uncaring about our crisis.
Because I have to choose.
Keep her and risk everything. Or let her go and save myself.
The smart play is obvious. End it. Let Caterina win. Marry her, unite the families, protect my position.
But when I look down at Bianca—broken and ashamed and still the strongest person I know—I realize something that terrifies me.
I don't want to make the smart play anymore.
I want her.
And that might be the thing that destroys us both.