Page 139 of Hate Mates

"You should be more careful," he says gruffly. "We can't have you looking anything less than perfect for the wedding."

His words sting, reminding me once again that my well-being is secondary to the alliance this marriage will secure. I force myself to nod, keeping my expression neutral.

"Yes, Father," I reply softly.

He turns his attention back to my mother. "Dinner will be ready in an hour. Make sure she's presentable." With that, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him with a firm click.

As soon as he's gone, I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. My mother's hand finds mine, squeezing gently.

"It's alright, love," she murmurs. "Let's get you ready for dinner."

She helps me change into a fresh dress and fixes my hair to hide the bandage. Once we’re ready to head downstairs, my mother pauses, her hand on the doorknob. She turns to me, her eyes shining with unshed tears and fierce determination.

"Remember, Vittoria," she says softly. "You're stronger than they know. No matter what happens, hold onto that strength. It's who you are."

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I will, Mam. I promise."

As we descend the stairs to join my father for dinner, I feel the weight of the key hidden in my dress. It's a small thing, but it represents so much—my heritage, my mother's love, and the strength of the women who came before me.

Whatever lies ahead—the wedding, my life with Cesare, the challenges of navigating this dangerous world—I'll face it with that strength. I may bend, but I won't break. I'm a Treacy woman, after all. And we're fighters.

FOUR

Cesare

As Vittoria enters the grand ballroom on her father's arm, I find my eyes drawn to her like a magnet. She's a vision in an emerald green gown that hugs her curves before flowing out gracefully. Her dark hair is swept up elegantly, exposing the graceful line of her neck. She's breathtaking, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.

But it's not just her beauty that captures my attention. There's a quiet strength in the set of her shoulders, a defiance in the tilt of her chin. Even as she smiles and nods politely to the guests, I can see the fire burning behind her eyes. It both intrigues and unnerves me.

I make my way through the crowd to greet them, plastering on my most charming smile. "Domenico, Siobhan," I say, shaking her father's hand and kissing her mother's cheek. "Thank you for coming. And Vittoria..." I turn to her, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips. "You look stunning."

She meets my gaze steadily, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Thank you, Cesare. You look very handsome yourself."

I offer her my arm, which she takes after a brief hesitation. As I lead her further into the room, I lean in close, my lips barelybrushing her ear. "Remember, Vittoria," I murmur, "tonight is about presenting a united front. Play your part well."

I feel her stiffen slightly beside me, but her smile never falters. "Of course," she replies, her voice low. "I understand my role perfectly."

As we make our rounds, greeting guests and accepting congratulations, I keep a close eye on Vittoria. She plays her part flawlessly, laughing at the right moments, offering gracious thanks, her hand never leaving my arm. To anyone watching, we must look like the perfect couple.

But I can feel the tension thrumming through her, along with annoyance in her eyes when she thinks no one is looking. It's clear that despite her outward compliance, the fire within her still burns bright.

As the evening wears on, I find myself both impressed by her performance and increasingly wary of what lies beneath it. Vittoria Costa is proving to be far more complex than I initially thought, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. Not to mention, her mother has kept a very close eye on her, along with her brothers. It seems as though she’s close to her family, but then her father’s a different story altogether. He doesn’t seem to care in the slightest about what happens to Vittoria.

The sound of a glass clinking draws everyone's attention. Lorenzo stands at the front of the room, champagne flute in hand, ready to make a toast. I guide Vittoria to stand beside me, my hand resting possessively on the small of her back.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lorenzo begins, his voice carrying across the hushed room. "We're gathered here tonight to celebrate the engagement of my father, Cesare Mariano, to the lovely Vittoria Costa."

I feel Vittoria tense slightly under my hand, but her smile remains firmly in place as Lorenzo continues.

"This union represents not just the joining of two people, but the strengthening of ties between our families," Lorenzo says, his tone carefully neutral. "To my father and his bride-to-be, may your future be filled with... happiness."

The slight pause before the word 'happiness' is almost imperceptible, but I catch it. I narrow my eyes at Lorenzo, silently warning him to tread carefully.

"To Cesare and Vittoria," Lorenzo concludes, raising his glass. The room echoes the sentiment, a sea of raised glasses and polite applause.

As I take a sip of champagne, I notice Vittoria hasn't touched hers. Her eyes are fixed on Lorenzo, a look of curiosity and a hint of sympathy in her gaze. I make a mental note to keep a closer eye on their interactions.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of small talk and posed photographs. Vittoria remains by my side, the perfect fiancée, but I can feel her growing weariness as the night wears on.

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