Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Alessio
If someone had told me a week ago I’d be at a gala for my own engagement, I would’ve asked them what exactly they’re smoking.
Now, however, as I exit the car with Rosalie at my side, I know that it’s real.
There are bright lights on us and flashing cameras.
I can hardly see any of the guests or decorations as we’re walking inside the building.
I’ve never been one for the spotlight, not like this; but I have to admit getting dressed up and showing off isn’t exactly difficult for me. I love putting on my best suit, in shades of royal blue and black, my hair gently curled and pulled back behind my head elegantly… I do feel important.
It’s not so much the event with its glitz and glam that bothers me. No. The problem lies in who set the event up, and who I’m here with.
Rosalie walks beside me, arm in arm, wearing a floor-length dark blue and silver strapless gown with a grey fur shrug over her shoulders protecting her from the cold as we enter. Her ruddy hair is in spirals down her back and she does look particularly beautiful. That much is obvious.
She’s not the person I want to be here with though.
There’s no one I want to be here with. No man I have even a glimmer of a thought of being engaged to. My life has been nothing but struggle and doing as I’m told to keep the family safe, and I do the exact same thing tonight. Announce my engagement to a woman I barely know.
Barely know, but perhaps can grow to respect.
Planning our wedding together a few days prior, putting on a show and acting as though we actually want to be together, was more fun than I care to share.
I’ve always been a good actor, and this isn’t exactly the first time I’ve had to pretend to be in love with a woman for the sake of the Dresvanni name.
But it is the first time I won’t be killing or maiming someone at the end of it all. I’ll be getting married.
Who knows what else they expect of me—of us.
I swallow hard as we finally make our way into the ballroom and all eyes are on us. I nod in the direction of my brothers who stand nearby waiting. Eivor is there as well, and I feel from behind us a familiar large man whom I’ve only just met the days prior.
Damian.
He looms over us from behind despite being shorter than me. He’s bigger, broader, and certainly a good choice for a bodyguard if there ever is one.
He resembles Soren in that way. Large and protective.
I shake the thought from my head and play it off as looking down at my fiancé. She smiles softly at me and I unlink our arms in order to take her shrug from her.
A staffer from the side then takes it from me and asks if we need anything else.
“No, thank you,” I say with a strained smile.
I have to play it up as best as I can. No matter the frustration that still boils under my skin whenever I glance at Carmine and Soren.
These days it seems Soren has more say in this family than I do.
I take a slow breath through my nose and offer my hand to Rosalie. Her face is flushed from the cold but is starting to pale again.
“Are you alright?” I ask her, leaning in and letting it be just a whisper.
She whispers back to me. “I hate dancing.”
I chuckle softly. I didn’t expect that from her. “We’ll just get drinks for now. No dancing,” I reassure her.
She sighs and takes my hand. We both put on our most affectionate smiles and head to the bar.
“Oh, you two look wonderful together,” the bartender tells us with a cheery look. I know her. Morgen. She tends many of our events. Her smile seems genuine, and I wonder if she truly thinks that we are a couple of love and not just loyalty to our families.
Perhaps that’s for the best. The more people who believe the lie, the better things will go. Right? We’re meant to bring more than just our families together; this is also about our allies.
If they believe that we have truly made peace, the process of growing our power might be easier.
It’s getting more and more difficult to ignore how right Carmine is about our engagement.
As much as I loathe Eivor and his reasonings behind demanding that we be wed, I know my own brother would never let this happen if he didn’t believe it was for the best.
“Ow, Alessio,” Rosalie mumbles.
I realize I’m squeezing her hand too tightly. I let my shoulders relax and I loosen my grip on her hand.
Based on the look Morgen is giving me, Rosalie has already ordered her drink.
“Rum and coke,” I say with a charming smile.
Morgen’s eyes glitter happily and she goes about making both of our drinks.
“Are you alright?” Rosalie asks in a hush, looking at me suspiciously.
“We both know I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice,” I tell her as Morgen has her back turned. My words are spoken through grit teeth. “But as long as we’re here, I suppose we should have some fun.”
Rosalie’s brow furrows lightly, but she nods and looks away from me.
“Here you are. Have a wonderful night, you two,” Morgen says as she slides both of our drinks to us. Rosalie having gotten a glass of wine.
“I wouldn’t take you for the wine type,” I tell her as we turn around and face the room filled with people all here for us.
“I’m not, but if I want to keep my composure, I need to drink lightly,” she explains. She taps her freshly manicured nails on the stem of the glass for a moment before taking a sip.
I take a heavy drink of my own, and feel the burn down my throat. Frankly, I could do with some rum straight—skip the coke—but I know she’s right. If I want to keep my head, I need to drink lightly as well.
“Well, shall we mingle?” I ask her.
“It’s a better idea than dancing,” she agrees.
There are several couples dancing in the center of the room, but we avoid that area. Instead roaming around and greeting the guests. There are at least a hundred people in the room.
From the ceiling, glittering glass bobbles hang down, and whenever there’s a slight breeze in the room they clink together and make a sound akin to the fairy bells from a childhood story.
All around us accents of white, silver, and blue are strung up on marble beams, intertwined with twinkling strings of lights.
“You’re almost more beautiful than the sun itself, Rosalie,” someone I don’t recognize tells her, and they hug briefly, exchange kisses on each cheek.
He turns to me and offers his hand. I shake it, squeezing firmly and then letting go after two.
“I’m Vernon. Eivor’s cousin. We don’t see each other very often,” Vernon explains. “I spend most of my time in Russia with my lovely wife who couldn’t be here today, bless her heart.”
I look to Rosalie for a moment.
“She’s very sick. She can’t travel,” Rosalie tells me with a waver in her smile.
I should care. I should wrap my arm around her and comfort her. I should want to do these things…but I don’t, not really.
I know it’s what’s expected of me here though, so I place my hand on her back and give her a look of sadness for just a second before looking at Vernon. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’re so glad you could be here today. Will you be at the wedding?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I can’t believe this is the first time we’re meeting. Little Rosa keeps so many secrets! Like how much she’s grown,” he says with a laugh. “I’ll be staying here until the wedding.”
“Great,” I say, and catch myself before my tone lowers into boredom. “We’ll seat you in the front.”
The conversation lingers until I can hardly take it, but I smile and sip at my drink. Until said drink is gone, and I’m left with nothing to quell the irritation.
I glance to the side while Rosalie continues to talk, and I see him.
Damian Rossi.
He’s standing nearby, watching us. Guarding us.
As it is his job to do. Still, I find myself meeting his gaze as best as I can.
His eyes covered by sunglasses. A strange thing to be wearing inside, but I know why he does it.
It conceals him but lets him look at everyone around him.
I have yet to see his actual eyes. I find myself wondering what color they are.
What expression is laced in them as he watches the guests all around us, but then comes back to focus on Rosalie and I.
“Alessio?” Rosalie grabs my attention.
I look at her apologetically. “Yes, my love?”
My words seem to surprise her ever so slightly, as her eyes widen just a tad before she seems to remember the game we are playing.
“Would you be so kind as to get me another glass of wine?” she asks.
“Of course,” I tell her, and I’m incredibly grateful for the chance to get away.
I grab her wine glass and head back over to the bar to get it refilled, along with my own drink.
“Less coke, more rum this time,” I tell Morgen.
“You don’t look like you’re having much fun, Mr. Dresvanni,” Morgen suggests with a raise of her brow.
I smile slightly strained at her. “I don’t enjoy being the center of attention,” I insist.
She laughs softly. “That’s news to me. Perhaps it’s sharing the spotlight that bothers you.” She slides the refilled glasses toward me and I find my face falling.
“What do you mean?” I ask her.
“You seemed happy enough at the New Year’s Eve party, where I don’t recall Rosalie being,” she tells me with a slight narrowing of her eyes.
“I guess she wasn’t,” I feign uncertainty. “Thank you for the drinks.” I lower my voice; my tone a bit clipped in order to remind her what she’s here for. To do a job.
The same reason I’m here. To do a job for my family. One that people must believe is real. Or at least, that we truly, genuinely, care about each other. Even if it’s obvious the marriage is arranged.
If people see weakness between us, they’ll see something they can break. Our allies and enemies alike must believe that we stand strong.
Even if I can’t stand it.
I take a long drink, sucking down half of it before I even get back to Rosalie. My eyes shift around looking for her. She’s not where she was before.