Page 45 of His

His eyes flicked to her, and for a brief moment, I saw something dark and possessive flash in them, but it was gone before I could fully register it. He offered her a charming smile, extending his hand. “Sofia, it’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” she said, her voice steady as she shook his hand.

“You’ve chosen quite the companion, Massimo,” Raffaele remarked, his gaze returning to me. “I must say, you have an eye for beauty.”

I didn’t respond to the comment, choosing instead to steer the conversation away from Sofia. “I hear things have been going well for you in Parliament,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “You’ve certainly made a name for yourself.”

Raffaele’s smile widened, though there was no warmth in it. “Politics is just another game, Massimo. One that I happen to play better than most.”

“No doubt,” I replied, my own smile tight. “Though I imagine the rules are a bit different from what you’re used to.”

“Not so different,” he said, taking a sip of his whiskey. “It’s all about power, influence, and knowing who to trust. Just like the old days.”

The way he said it, with that hint of nostalgia, sent a chill down my spine. Raffaele might be wearing a suit and holding a government position, but I had no doubt that his hands were still dirty, even if they appeared clean to the public.

“It was good seeing you, Raffaele,” I said, my tone final. “But we have other people to greet.”

“Of course,” he replied, his smile never faltering. “Enjoy the evening, Massimo. And Sofia, I hope we meet again.”

I guided Sofia away from him, my hand firm on her waist as we moved through the crowd once more. The whole thing had left me on edge. With a deep breath, I shook it off as best as I could.

Sofia was mine for the night and no one was going to take her from me.

Not even Raffaele.

CHAPTER 17

Sofia

This was a once in a lifetime kind of opportunity.

I’d never been to anything like this charity gala in my life. I looked around, seeing a sea of designer dresses and expensive tuxes. Classical music drifted through the air, blending seamlessly with the clinking of glasses and the low hum of the crowd. It was overwhelming and exhilarating all at once.

Even though I was supposed to be focused on the party, my thoughts kept drifting back to Papa, still locked up behind cold steel bars. Worry gnawed at my insides. Was he sleeping? Was he eating? Did he have anyone to talk to, or was he sitting there in silence, replaying every moment that led him to this point? I knew my father well enough to understand how he would be tormenting himself over my involvement, how he would be cursing himself for not keeping me safe, for somehow letting me get caught up in the very world he tried so hard to shield me from.

And now, here I was, tangled up with Massimo, thrust into the dangers of a life Papa never wanted for me. He’d spent years protecting me from this world. What would he think if he knew the truth about how far I’d gone? Would he hate me for it? Blame himself for failing to keep me safe? The thought of him sitting in that tiny cell, worrying about me more than his own freedom, made my chest tighten painfully.

I could almost hear his voice, filled with both anger and heartbreak, asking how he could have let this happen, how his little girl ended up walking straight into the very dangers he’d warned her about. And all I wanted, more than anything, was to tell him that I was okay, that I was stronger than he thought, that this was my choice now.

That I could do this.

Massimo kept a firm hand on the small of my back as we moved through the room, guiding me with a quiet confidence that I found both reassuring and possessive. He introduced me to several important figures—senators, business tycoons, even a high-ranking judge. Massimo pulled me close and whispered a crash course of information into my ear about each one, giving me a snapshot into his volatile underground world.

I tried to keep up, smiling politely and offering a few words where I could, but my mind was racing. It was one thing to hear about Massimo’s world, but to see it firsthand was something else entirely.

As we made our way past the bar, I caught sight of one of the men that Massimo had introduced me to, Raffaele, standing near one of the large windows that overlooked the city. His figure was half-shrouded in shadow, but even from across the room, his presence was unmistakable. He was deepin conversation with another man—a tall, thin figure dressed in an understated but impeccably tailored gray suit. There was something about the way they stood, their heads bent close together like they were talking about something important, that caught my attention.

Curiosity got the better of me. “I’ll be right back,” I murmured to Massimo, slipping away from his side before he could respond. I heard him call out behind me, but I was already several steps away from him and I didn’t look back.

I moved slowly, keeping to the edges of the room, my gaze locked on Raffaele and his companion. As I drew closer, I could hear the low murmur of their voices, too soft to make out clearly. I positioned myself near a large potted plant, feigning interest in the ornate decorations as I strained to listen.

“…not much time left,” Raffaele was saying, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with an edge of impatience. “We need to act now if we want to disrupt their plans. This opportunity won’t present itself again.”

The other man nodded, his expression tense. “I understand. But we have to be careful. If this gets traced back to us?—”

“It won’t,” Raffaele cut him off sharply. “I’ve made sure of it. Just follow the instructions and stick to the timeline. The timing is crucial. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

My heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t the kind of conversation you had at a charity ball. This was something else.

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