Chapter 27 #3
“Wow,” I said, taking it all in. “This place is stunning.”
Eva waved her hand as if it were nothing.
“Oh, it’s just a little something I threw together.
Let’s get you ready.” She grabbed my hand and led me down a hallway to what I quickly realized wasn’t just a closet—it was a palace of couture.
Floor-to-ceiling racks of designer gowns, shelves lined with red-soled heels, and displays of handbags that probably cost more than my old New Jersey apartment.
“This is insane,” I said, my voice trailing off as I took it all in.
Eva laughed, already sifting through the racks with practiced ease. “I know. Shopping is my guilty pleasure. Now, let’s find you something to wear.” She paused, pulling out a shimmering green gown that looked both elegant and jaw-droppingly expensive. “This. You’ll look perfect.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That looks like it costs more than my soul.”
She laughed. “It probably does. But don’t worry—if you spill wine on it, Raffaele will just buy me a new one.”
“That sounds about right,” I muttered. Raffaele had certainly made sure Eva was taken care of, which didn’t make me jealous in the slightest. I was happy to see someone who, like me, had been given an unfair hand as a child, rise above her circumstances.
Thanks to her brother, Eva was living her best life in a New York City penthouse.
Not to mention, she was an extremely successful lawyer.
She insisted on doing my makeup, chatting the entire time about everything and nothing. Her easy demeanor made me feel like I’d known her forever, and I almost forgot about the marriage bond, The Below, and all the tangled threads of my current life.
Eva stepped back to admire her work and smiled. “Perfect. The necklace ties it all together. I’m assuming it was a gift from my brother?”
I touched the diamond choker absently, its cold weight a reminder of what it really was.
“Yeah, something like that,” I said, keeping my voice light while internally cringing.
I quickly decided not to tell Eva that the necklace was just another way for her precious brother to control me.
Eva seemed like such a kind person. It wasn’t worth it to cause more turmoil between her and Raffaele.
“It definitely looks great with the dress.”
If Eva noticed my hesitation, she didn’t comment. She handed me the fur wrap and practically shoved me out the door, grinning as she said, “Knock him dead.”
When I returned to Raffaele’s apartment, he was at the windows, his back to me. He turned around, and I swallowed hard. His eyes roamed over me slowly, and for the first time since I’d met him, he looked completely speechless.
“Well?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny.
“You look…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing slightly as though he couldn’t find the right word. “Beautiful.”
Heat crept up my neck, and I was grateful for the dim lighting. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I said, eyeing his fitted suit and tie. The man cleaned up well, but he didn’t need me to tell him that.
He extended his arm, that infuriating smirk returning. “Shall we?”
I slipped my arm through his, my heart fluttering unexpectedly. “Let’s.”
The restaurant was understated elegance at its finest. The kind of place where the ma?tre d’ didn’t just greet you but seemed to size up your worth with a single glance.
“Gallanti,” Raffaele said smoothly, barely sparing the man a glance. His hand grazed my lower back as he guided me forward.
“Of course, Mr. Gallanti,” the ma?tre d’ replied, his polished demeanor giving no hint of the obvious respect—fear?—he held for the man next to me. He led us to a corner booth that overlooked Manhattan, the city lights glittering like stars against the night sky.
As soon as I slid into the leather seat, I felt out of place. A single steak here probably cost more than my rent back in Jersey. I swallowed hard, glancing at Raffaele as he casually unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned back in his seat, entirely at ease.
His lips curved as he picked up the menu. “You look nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” I lied, reaching for the menu with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. The heavy, glossy pages were embossed with gold lettering that screamed wealth and exclusivity. My stomach twisted as I scanned the items, realizing there weren’t even prices listed.
Raffaele chuckled softly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Relax, Vivian. It’s only dinner.”
I shot him a look. “Forgive me if I’m not used to dining like royalty.”
The waiter appeared before I could say more, and Raffaele handed him the menu without even glancing at me. “Two filet mignons, medium rare. And a bottle of your best cabernet.”
I raised an eyebrow. “No input from me?”
“You’ll thank me later,” he said with maddening confidence, cocking an eyebrow as if daring me to argue.
When the steaks arrived, I had to admit, he was right. One bite of the perfectly seared, tender meat, and an involuntary moan escaped my lips. My eyes widened in horror, but Raffaele’s low laugh cut through my embarrassment.
“I told you. Best steak in the city.”
“Fine,” I muttered, spearing another piece with my fork. “You win this round.”
He chuckled again, the sound rich and warm. It was disarming, this lighter version of him, and I found myself leaning into it despite my better judgment. The conversation flowed easily as we ate, his sharp wit drawing out laughter I didn’t know I still had in me.
At some point, the wine kicked in, softening my nerves. I told him about NexusCore, about my dreams for it, and to my surprise, he seemed genuinely intrigued. And for some fucked-up reason, I trusted his intentions. Our bond radiated with pride and compassion.
“It’s ambitious,” he said, swirling his wine in his glass. “But then, so are you.”
I blinked in shock at the offhanded compliment. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”
“It is. Ambition is necessary for survival.”
“Is that how you see it?” I asked, tilting my head. “Everything as a means of survival?”
The light in his eyes dimmed. “When you grow up like I did, you learn quickly that survival isn’t guaranteed. You take what you can, when you can. Otherwise, someone else will take it from you.”
“Dark,” I said softly.
He raised his glass, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Welcome to my world.”
The Broadway theater was nothing short of magical. Ornate carvings adorned the ceiling, and a massive chandelier glittered above us as we took our seats. I kind of felt like a child seeing something extraordinary for the first time, and I couldn’t help but marvel at it all.
The show itself was amazing. The performers poured their hearts into every word, every movement, and I was swept up in the story, forgetting, for a time, where I was and who I was with.
But there were moments when I caught Raffaele watching me instead of the stage. His intense gaze was unguarded, and it made my stomach dip. It was as though he was trying to see into my soul.
By the end of the performance, tears prickled at my eyes. When the audience stood for a raucous ovation, I clapped harder than I ever had, the emotion still tight in my chest.
“You okay?” Raffaele asked as we made our way out of the theater.
“Yeah,” I said quickly, wiping my eyes. “It was just so beautiful.”
His smile softened, and when it did, he looked like a different man. “It was.”
We drove back to the penthouse in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. I stared at the city lights blurring past, my mind working overtime. Tonight had been surreal. Raffaele had been different. Lighter. Human.
When we reached the penthouse, he walked me to the door, his hand brushing lightly against my back. The warmth of his touch seeped through my back, setting my nerves alight.
He reached around me to unlock the door, his body close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. The scent of his cologne—woodsy, sharp, and entirely him—filled my senses.
For a moment, he paused, his face inches from mine. His gaze dropped to my lips, and my breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I thought he might kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me.
But then he pulled back. “Ladies first,” he said, pushing the door open.
Disappointment surged through me, sharp and unexpected. I quickly stepped inside, trying to hide the turmoil swirling in my head. This was the man who had forced me into marriage, who had bound me to him in a painful ceremony without telling me the consequences.
And yet, as I heard the door click shut behind us, I couldn’t shake the memory of his smile or the lingering warmth of his touch.