Page 98 of Dance of Deception

I swallow. “What do you think I should do?”

“I’msurethere’s space somewhere in that—what, twenty-bedroom mansion for your dear mother?”

My brows knit. “I… I mean, I can ask Carmine?—”

“Yes. Do that.”

“I just don’t know if he’ll agree?—”

Her smile is slow, condescending. “Then do what wives often do to get their way with their husbands, darling.”

Milena makes a disgusted, gagging noise in the back of her throat.

I feel my skin crawl. “Absolutelynot.”

Vera rolls her eyes, smoothing the fabric of her gown like she’s ending the conversation. “Well then,” she mutters, picking imaginary lint from her sleeve. “Surely you can afford to ensure that your own mother doesn’t have to live in squalor.”

“Mom, I don’t have any money?—”

Vera scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re marrying Carmine Barone.”

I clench my jaw. “He’s giving me a ring, not a credit card.”

Her expression darkens, her voice taking on a sharper edge. “Ungrateful, as always.”

I grit my teeth. “That’s not?—”

“Never could resist biting the hand that feeds you, could you?” she sneers. Her voice turns venomous. “Just like when you testified against your father. Such agood little daughteryou were.”

The words land like a slap, knocking the breath from my lungs.

She presses on, her voice becoming more insidious. “After everything I did for you. After all the sacrifices I made. Keepinga roof over our heads, stretching every penny while you played at being a ballerina.”

My fingers tighten, twisting together.

Vera sighs, shaking her head. “And where did that leave me? Stuck. With.You.”

Her eyes glint cruelly as she leans in. “Don’t think for one second that this marriage makes you special, Lyra. You were chosen for convenience, nothing more.” She gestures broadly. “Do you think Carmine cares about you? Think he’s marrying you because you’re some great prize? Please.”

I stay silent. I know better than to let her see how much the words hurt.

Vera watches me, waiting for a reaction. When I don’t give her one, she exhales with a puff, exasperated. “What I mean is,—this isn’t just about you anymore. You have an obligation to people other than yourself now.”

Her voice is all honey and glass, deceptively sweet yet dangerously sharp. “Remember that.”

“That’s. Enough.”

The three of us startle, turning at the sound of the voice. Vito Barone steps inside, his mere presence shifting the air, diffusing the venom Vera has been spewing like a toxic cloud.

My mother straightens but doesn’t look ashamed.

Actually, I’m not sure she’s capable of that emotion.

Vito tilts his head, a pleasant smile curving his lips, but his eyes are sharp.

“I think we’re done here, Mrs. Ostrova, don’t you?”

Vera lifts her chin. “I beg your pardon. This is a private conversation.”

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