Chapter Eight #3
As they stepped onto the dock, she straightened her shoulders.
Still, nerves twisted in her stomach. With his hawklike attention, Renzo must have noticed, because he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur.
“We don’t have to stay long. Just tell me if it becomes too much at any point during the evening. ”
“No,” she said, lifting her chin. “I want to meet your friends. I want to know more about your life.”
“And will you share more about yours?”
She colored at his sneak attack. “You already know everything about me.”
“Only what Pia told Santo and then Santo me. And we both know that’s far too many filters and distortion on the way.”
Biting her lower lip, she held his gaze. “I’ve led a very uninteresting life.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” the man said, relentless like a dog with a bone.
Mimi sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was to dig up the painful past. “I could be persuaded to share a few things if you kiss me like that again.”
His expression softened slightly, a flicker of approval in his dark eyes. “It’s a deal, cara.”
Mimi’s eyes widened as they entered the hotel, the grandeur of the lobby threatening to devour her.
It was a dazzling blend of history and modernity. Intricate Murano glass chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, their light reflecting off polished marble floors. Gilded mirrors lined the walls, doubling the elegance of the space.
She inhaled deeply, nerves tightening as she spotted the small crowd gathered just beyond the main reception. A hostess ushered them toward a private salon.
As the heavy double doors opened, a burst of laughter and chatter spilled into the hallway. Inside, nearly thirty people mingled, the air alive with energy and curiosity. Her pulse quickened as numerous guests turned in their direction.
This wasn’t an intimate dinner with two of his closest friends.
This was…something else.
Renzo’s entire body stiffened at her side. His hand fell away from her back. When she glanced up, his dark gaze was locked on the center of the room, where his sister Chiara stood, a champagne flute in hand and a satisfied smile on her lips.
She walked up to them, impeccably dressed in a silver gown that shimmered like liquid moonlight, looking anything but repentant.
“Chiara?” Renzo muttered, his voice low and sharp. And then he switched to rapid Italian, but the gist was clear to Mimi.
He was furious with his sister. Particularly about the guests she had included, although Mimi didn’t understand exactly who.
“You were taking too long, Renzo, squirrelling her away as if we might all eat her up,” she said, her voice dripping with sweetness that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She turned to Mimi, her smile sharpening.
“You look more than fine to me, Mimi. We all began to wonder if there was a reason my brother was hiding you.”
The insult and the insinuation were faultless.
Mimi forced a polite smile, though her stomach twisted.
This wasn’t a warm welcome—it was an ambush.
As Chiara gestured toward the crowd, Mimi’s gaze swept the room.
Older men and women with sharp eyes and polished appearances mingled with younger women, several of whom stared at her with barely concealed amusement or disdain.
At least two of the women, she guessed, had been invited because they had shown interest in Renzo at some point.
Was that why he was so angry?
It was bad enough that they all knew her through Pia and her grasping, manipulative, self-destructive ways. Now they thought Mimi had gone one step further and trapped Renzo with a pregnancy.
The media and the whole world were one thing, but facing actual people who immediately jumped to horrible conclusions about her was another. Either she ran away and let them cement those assumptions or she stayed and showed them who she was. After that, their judgment was on them.
Even two weeks ago, Mimi would have run away, would have called it his world. But now with Renzo by her side, she owed it to him and their son. And to herself.
“You had no right to do this,” Renzo said to Chiara, voice clipped.
Mimi laid a hand on Renzo’s arm as she felt the tension radiating from him. “It’s fine,” she said softly, even though her heart pounded. “I did agree to meet your friends. There are more than I expected here, that’s all.”
His head snapped toward her, his jaw tight. “I will not expose you to unnecessary stress.”
“I can’t hide forever, Renzo,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt. “Plus, just because I’m averse to drama doesn’t mean I’m scared of it,” she said, loud enough for Chiara to hear.
The woman raised a brow, much like her brother did. The gesture was now so familiar to Mimi that the tension fled her muscles. “Let me make my own impression, Renzo. I need to do this.” Pia’s shadow loomed large enough without her cowering away from Renzo’s family.
For a moment, he simply stared at her, the anger in his eyes warring with something softer. Finally, he gave a tight nod, though his hand slipped to her waist, pulling her closer as if shielding her from the room.
God, how her insides melted at the possessive, protective gesture. No one had ever quite looked out for her like this man did, and Mimi found new meaning in the vows they had both taken in front of these very people.
Chiara’s eyes flicked to her brother’s arm, her smile tightening. “Come now, don’t let us keep you from the fun. Everyone’s eager to meet the woman who’s managed to drag Renzo to the altar.”
“You have made a grave mistake, Chiara. Coming for me is one thing. Coming for Mimi…” He shook his head.
A flash of fear danced in Chiara’s sparkling eyes before her mouth pursed. “You talk as if you would choose her over us, Renzo.”
“It’s not even a choice, because she has never embarrassed me. You have that honor, Chiara. I have repeatedly warned you that Mimi’s off limits.”
“Is she that fragile then?”
“If you don’t respect my wife, then maybe I can wash my hands of clearing your husband’s business debts, sì?”