Chapter 37
SAbrINA
Sebastian would not ruin this evening for me.
I was determined to enjoy myself—despite the uneasy knot in my stomach.
Every time I was with him, there was an unshakable sense that I was walking into a game where he already knew the outcome. The way he watched me, the way his smirk lingered just a second too long, made me wonder if I was being led somewhere I might not want to go.
And yet, I stayed.
Through the tinted window, the soft glow of Rome at night unfolded like a dream.
The Tiber River shimmered in the distance, its surface reflecting the streetlights that lined its banks, while the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica stood illuminated against the dark sky—majestic and serene.
The city lights. A gorgeous new gown. Expensive jewels. A surprise evening of entertainment ahead.
If I’d been with anyone else, this would be the height of romance. But I was with Sebastian.
The car slowed to a stop in front of the grand facade of the Anantara Palazzo Naiadi Hotel, its neoclassical columns and intricate stonework glowing warmly under the soft light of ornate gold sconces.
A liveried doorman stepped forward with perfect precision, the brass buttons on his crisp uniform gleaming as he opened the door, offering a polite bow that matched the elegance of the setting.
Slipping my gloved fingers into his, I stepped out of the car, staring in wonder. Even with my attention drawn to the other elegant guests arriving at the hotel, I didn’t miss the look of fear that crossed the doorman’s face as his fingers tightened briefly around mine.
I didn’t have to turn. I knew all too well what had caused it.
Sebastian’s warm hand slid around my waist.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the hard look he gave the poor man.
Without a word, I slipped my fingers from the doorman’s grasp and clenched them in front of me. I rubbed my thumb over my ring finger, missing my usual band rings.
I briefly wished for a purse to fidget with, but I’d stopped carrying one in the evenings.
“Shall we?”
“Are we attending a party?”
“Yes. It’s a pre-party before the opera.”
My mouth fell open. “You’re taking me to the opera?”
Sebastian pulled me closer to his side, shielding me from the growing crush of guests as we entered the ornate hotel lobby. “The classic opera Rigoletto is playing this evening. I thought you would enjoy it.”
I clasped my palms together over my chest as I beamed up at him. “Truly? This is incredible.”
His hand tightened around my waist. “Are you pleased, sweetheart?”
Forgetting to be guarded against him, I laughed. “To see an opera while in Rome? I couldn’t be more thrilled.”
What could be more amazing than hearing the famous "La donna è mobile" while sitting in the iconic Teatro dell’Opera di Roma? It would be like stepping back in time to the Renaissance.
My first thought was that I couldn’t wait to tell my mother.
Then my stomach sank, dampening my excitement.
My mother still didn’t know I was in Rome.
After an attendant took our coats, we entered the ballroom.
It was a vision of opulence, with its soaring ceilings adorned with intricate gilded details and crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow.
I feverishly tried to take in every detail, filing it away in my mind for future inspiration.
Holding on to Sebastian’s arm, I bounced up on my toes as I stared at the arched windows framed by heavy velvet drapes. “What do you think about a Renaissance-inspired jewelry campaign but with a modern chic edge?”
Sebastian handed me a glass of champagne from a passing silver tray.
In my excitement, I took a large gulp, then I sneezed as the bubbles tickled my nose.
He pulled the glass from my hand and gave me a stern look. “Only one glass for you, so I suggest you savor it.”
Ignoring his reference to the last time I'd overindulged in champagne, I clapped my hands. “Perhaps instead of tapestry silks, we could do black leather. And we could tie it into the affordability of lab-created diamonds. Drape yourself in diamonds like a queen.”
Depositing my abandoned flute on another passing tray, Sebastian swept me into his arms and onto the dance floor. “We have a rule in Italy. Never talk business when there is pleasure to be had.”
The reminder to him that this was supposed to be a business engagement perched on the tip of my tongue, but I kept silent. I didn’t want to ruin the magical moment.
I hadn’t danced the waltz since dance class as a teenager, but it didn’t matter.
With Sebastian’s strong arm around my waist, my feet barely touched the ground as we floated in an elegant circle around the polished dance floor.
Everywhere I looked, guests in glittering evening wear moved with effortless grace, their laughter and conversation blending with the grandeur of the setting.
It was like stepping into a scene from a classic film.
It was all a fantastical dream.
But I should have remembered—dreams didn’t last around Sebastian.
As the faces spun across my vision, one caught my attention.
He was an older Italian man, strikingly handsome, with a shock of thick white hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. Pinned to the breast of his tuxedo was an impressive medal with a green-and-red ribbon.
“Who is that man over there? The one with the small crowd of people around him.”
Sebastian kept his eyes on me, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. “Your father.”
I stumbled.
His arm tightened as he lifted my feet off the floor, disguising my near fall by sweeping me into a flamboyant spin.
I craned my neck to get another glimpse of the man over the heads of the dancers.
No, not the man.
The devil.
The evil presence had lingered over my childhood. The cause of all my mother’s heartache.
The very reason why I shouldn’t be here, dancing in an Italian ballroom against my mother’s every wish.
My father.
My lower lip trembled as I looked up at Sebastian.
He continued to watch me, like a spider watching a dying fly struggle within the sticky confines of its web.
“Did you know he would be here?”
Without blinking, he said, “Yes.”
I jerked back and tried to break his grasp. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“I mean it, Sebastian.”
“So do I. You’re not going anywhere.”
I pushed against his chest. “Let me go. I’m leaving.”
He continued to hold me as he increased the pace of his steps. The ballroom spun before my eyes. What was once beautiful now warped into a sick kaleidoscope of color and chaos.
“Calm yourself, Sabrina.”
My eyes widened. “Calm myself? Calm myself! Did you seriously just tell me to relax after heartlessly ambushing me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Dolcezza, don’t be dramatic.”
I twisted my torso but couldn’t break his grasp. “Don’t dolcezza me. If you don’t release me this instant, I’ll show you dramatic.”
Sebastian chuckled. “If you’re threatening to make a scene, may I remind you—you’re among Italians. Social drama is an art form. Half the guests won’t even notice. The other half won’t care.”
As he spoke, we spun closer to where my father stood.
Even without seeing him, I imagined I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head.
Had he recognized me?
According to my mother, he didn’t even know I existed.
Up until now, he hadn’t really existed for me either. He was on par with the boogeyman or the beast under my bed. I’d never even Googled him, afraid to put a face to the shadows.
Sebastian’s warm hand turned my face to him. “Eyes on me. Don’t even look at him.”
I blinked back tears. “Did you do this just to torture me?”
His thumb stroked my cheek but offered no comfort. “We run in the same upper circles. Meeting him was inevitable.”
I thinned my lips as I shook my head. “It was only inevitable if I came to Rome.”
As we made the final turn with the other dancers, I caught my father’s scowl again.
A chill ran down my spine.
Just then, another dancer collided with us, breaking Sebastian’s hold on me.
Hiking up the long skirt of my dress, I pushed through the crowd, but the wall of bodies didn’t budge. “Excuse me. Please, excuse me. Can you let me through? Please.”
No one moved.
And then…they all parted like the sea.
Without saying a word, Sebastian laid a heavy hand at the curve of my neck.
My shoulders slumped.
His hand constricted slightly as he leaned down. “If you wanted to stop dancing, dear, all you had to do was ask.”
Anger intensified his words, clipping them at the ends.
I flagged down a passing server and snatched a champagne flute off their tray. Not caring how it would annoy Sebastian, I tossed it back like it was my last drink before the gallows as he shepherded me through the crowd.
Then I heard it.
“Abriana?”
I jolted as if struck by lightning. Abriana. My mother’s name.
The elegant older woman placed her hand against her chest and laughed, speaking in rapid Italian.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”
She waved me off. “So sorry. I was just laughing at myself for being so silly. For a moment, I thought I was looking at a ghost. You are the very image of an old friend of mine, Abriana Dolce Badalamenti. Are you perhaps related?”
My heart stopped. “She’s my—”
Sebastian’s hand squeezed my neck again—harder this time.
Startled, I turned to look at him, but his face was unreadable as he kept his gaze trained forward.
Did I imagine it?
The woman continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “It broke my heart when I learned she’d been murdered.”
Murdered?
The champagne flute slipped from my fingers and shattered into a thousand crystalline shards against the marble floor.