Page 125 of His Two Hidden Masks

“She did?” I said, surprised that she’d listened to me.

“Yes,” Paolo said. “She shared some very strong opinions with us all.”

“Okay, we’re going upstairs,” I said. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck,” Paolo said. “You are victorious.”

Dylan and I walked up the grand marble staircase. I thought about all the times I had climbed these stairs alone, all the years I’d worked in the hotel trying to please my parents, all the times I’d climbed these stairs to attend board meetings, only to find my voice silenced.

My mind went back even further, to all the times I’d run down these halls with Sara, giggling and dancing before the joy of my childhood vanished. This hotel held so many memories for me and my family.

I understood the complexity of my past on a new level. My childhood was happy and sad. I experienced joy and sorrow. No matter what, my past and the choices my parents made shaped me. I was the woman I am today because of their love, however misguided, and now it was my time to forge my own path forward.

The little girl who was afraid of disappointing her elders was gone. I was a married woman now. An entrepreneur. I was still a sister, a daughter, a friend, but I was a woman first.

I squeezed Dylan’s hand when we reached the top step.

“What?” he whispered. “What are you thinking?”

“I am thinking that no matter what happens between us, I feel lucky to be with you today.”

Our eyes met. It was unspoken, but I felt the bond between us grow stronger in that moment. It was time to move forward and face my family.

I was no longer alone, but I wasn’t standing beside Dylan from a position of weakness. I was ready to stand beside him and face my family as an equal. We walked forward, side-by-side.

Outside the dining room, there was a row of banquet tables draped with white cloths. A banner combining the logo for Street Entertainment and Uzano Properties hung crooked on the wall.

It looked like someone had started to take the sign down, or worse, the tape had failed. It looked sad, like an idea that was no longer relevant. I saw it as a sign. The age of the acquisition was over. It was time for the age of Bella Baci.

James sat outside the ballroom entrance in an oversized yellow chair. It reminded me of the horrible loveseat I’d sat in at the church, waiting to marry Roberto all those months ago. James said nothing as we crossed the carpeted floor.

He raised his hands in the air for a slow clap. “Well played, little brother. Well played,” James said, standing.

“Brother,” Dylan said. A smirk crossed his face. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Did you say ‘congratulations?’”

I inhaled and gripped Dylan’s hand tighter. I wasn’t sure how he was going to handle this confrontation, but I wasn’t sure if a shit-eating grin was the right move. The last thing we needed was a fist fight and an assault charge.

“You certainly surprised us all with this ridiculous move,” James said, nodding at me.

Dylan’s hand tensed in mine. “This woman is not a ridiculous move,” Dylan said, his voice purposeful and low. Holy shit, these brothers were definitely one step away from bloody knuckles.

“You expect me to believe that you were motivated by anything other than wanting to fuck me over,” James said, a vein pulsing in his forehead.

“Well, of course I wanted to fuck you over,” Dylan said. “But this marriage is not a game or a play.”

“Oh, like you weren’t also playing a game, telling the world about Strand.” James exhaled. “Ophelia is furious. She is trying to manage the press.”

“Tell Mother that I will handle the press.”

“Well, you just might need to this time. You may have finally made a mess that we can’t fix for you.” James shook his head. “This marriage is a joke.”

“Apologize to my wife,” Dylan growled. He took a step toward his brother, his hand still in mine. The men faced each other, rage rippling between them.

Their shared history or pain was unknown to me, but whatever scars they’d given each other, they were not healed. I hoped Dylan would open up to me some day, to support him and his healing. Well, I was thinking like a wife, wasn’t I?

“I apologize, Isabella,” James said. Sighing he stood down. “You are a beautiful and compelling woman, and my brother is lucky to call you, his wife. Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” I said, surprised by his words and my reaction to them. I was now a part of the Street family. I had been so focused on saving mine, I hadn’t thought for a moment about the family I had just joined.

---