Page 39 of Bianchi

What’s his problem? I want to be here less than I’m sure he wants me to be.

My eyes dart either side of him before returning his stare. Couples dance around us, oblivious to the cloud of hostility hovering above. “I was just going to the bathroom.”

He ignores me, pulling me into his arms and lifting my hand to his shoulder before picking up the other. “Dance with me. I have some questions for you.”

Exhaling loudly and with no other choice, I follow his lead. We sway to a pop song the string quartet plays, neither of us speaking. My eyes wander the room, searching for Romeo. There’s a burning sensation in my chest when I come up empty. Did he leave with her? My eyes sting when it dawns on me. Of course he did, and he’s using his cousin to distract me.

Dropping my eyes to Massimo’s chest, I murmur, “What did you want to know?”

There’s confidence in his voice when he replies, “I doubt you’ll give me the answer to my most pertinent question, but I have others.”

I cock a brow, silently telling him to just ask whatever it is he wants to know.

He brings us to stop in the middle of the floor. “Where is your father?”

Rolling my eyes, I sigh, taking a step back. Massimo tightens his grip and brings me flush with his body. The air is knocked out of me and I can’t hide my frustration and annoyance when I reply, “I’ve already told Romeo. I. Don’t. Know. Where. He. Is. And the quicker you get that through your thick skull, the better. Francesco won’t be coming for me.”

Massimo loosens his hold, keeping his narrowed eyes on me as he looks into my soul. “But you know something, right?”

My brows tug together, and I open my mouth to ask him what exactly he thinks that might be, but his body is ripped from mine as Romeo pulls him back with a growl. He stands between us, fisting the collar of Massimo’s tux jacket as he walks him back. Their faces are inches apart; Romeo’s screwed up in anger and Massimo’s relaxed and split into a grin.

“You might be my cousin, Massimo, but don’t ever touch what’s mine again,” Romeo hisses, his voice dangerously low.

His?

Couples within earshot turn to watch, their dances long forgotten in favor of the free entertainment. Heat fills my cheeks at the attention, and I stumble back, needing to distance myself. I turn and hurry from the room, uncaring whether my guard is following. With every step, I feel the eyes of everyone in the room on me. Why did he have to do that after practically ignoring me since we arrived? Maybe he doesn’t care how he makes me look.

In the quiet of the hallway, blood rushes in my ears, and I seek the sanctuary of the bathroom. The heady scent of roses and bergamot hits me when I push through the door. I’m vaguely aware of the opulence of the room before I rush into a cubicle, locking it behind me.

My breaths come in hushed, heaving pants, and I turn in small circles, unsure of what to do. The alcohol was a bad idea. Stopping to talk to Massimo was a bad idea. But not running from my apartment when I had the choice was probably the worst thing I’ve ever done.

Well, I’m not going back out there. If Romeo wants to talk to me, he can come and find me. I put the toilet seat down and drop onto it, holding my head in my hands and rubbing at my temples. Two toilets flush in quick succession on either side of me, the cubicle doors opening and falling closed with a dull thud.

The tap runs, and a feminine voice speaks. “Did you see the woman Romeo arrived with?”

My chest squeezes, and I sit up straighter before leaning forward to hear them. How many Romeos can there be at one gala?

Her friend must nod or something in acknowledgment because she continues, “It looks like Massimo wants her. He’s been watching her all night while you’ve kept Romeo busy.”

So that’s why he came over. She must have gone to the bathroom, and he finally decided to pay me some attention.

There’s a laugh on the other side of the door, and as I lean to the side, I can see a sliver of her through the gap in the door. She reapplies her red lipstick before pushing up her breasts and smoothing her hands over her curves. “As delectable as Massimo is, you’ve got to love a man in charge. I will say, let the best woman win. But I’d put my money on moi. He hasn’t paid her any attention all night.”

Oh, you want to turn this into a competition? Bring it on.

Yanking open the stall door, I keep my head held high when I march toward the basins. I roll my lips together to keep my smirk at bay when they both gasp in surprise, too slow to hide their reactions. Ignoring them, I rinse my hands before drying them on one of the warm towels and straightening my dress. Fussing with my hair, I meet their wide eyes in the mirror before sauntering from the room, calling, “Ladies.”

My body sags as soon as the door closes behind me, the bravado slipping as I leave what was supposed to be the safety of the bathroom. There’s nothing I dislike more than a woman who thinks it’s acceptable to steal another woman’s man. Even if he isn’t actually my man.

Angelo falls into step behind me. “Everything okay?”

I look over my shoulder, surprised that he’s actually spoken. His face lights up as he smiles at me before he clears his throat and drops his mask back in place. I didn’t think he had any vocal cords. He’s ignored any attempts I’ve made this evening to talk to him.

“Yes, everything’s fine, thanks.”

Angelo steps around me, holding the door to the main hall open. Movement in the corner of my eye draws my attention back to the bathroom door as the woman in the gold dress walks out, trailing behind her friend. She averts her gaze, her confidence from earlier apparently gone.

Good.

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