Page 22 of Claimed By the Enemy
“Infamous, more like.”
“I prefer famous.” His smile is pure sin. “That was quite an entrance Dom orchestrated for you.”
“Dom has a flair for the dramatic.”
“Among other things.” Marco moves closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne - something expensive and distinctly masculine. “Tell me, how does someone like you end up married to someone like him?”
“Someone like me?”
“Beautiful. Intelligent. Far too good for a man who introduces his wife like she’s a business acquisition.”
I laugh, surprised by his directness. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough.” His hand touches my arm, fingers trailing along the silk of my sleeve. “I know you’re not happy. I know you’re here because you have to be, not because you want to be.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“The way you’re gripping that glass like it’s a weapon. The way you keep scanning the room like you’re looking for exits.” His thumb brushes against my wrist. “The way you haven’t once looked in your husband’s direction since he walked away.”
He’s observant. Dangerous in his own way.
But right now, with Dom’s revelation still burning in my chest and the weight of hostile stares pressing down on me, dangerous feels exactly like what I need.
Chapter Seven
Dom
“So the Shanghai deal is moving forward then?” Giuseppe Torrino leans in closer, lowering his voice despite the ambient noise of conversation around us. “Huang’s people are satisfied with the terms?”
I take a sip of my whiskey, keeping my expression neutral. “Huang’ssatisfied with the profit projections. His concerns about market volatility have been addressed through the structured timeline we proposed.”
“Smart approach.” Torrino nods approvingly. “Gradual market entry reduces risk exposure while maintaining growth potential.”
“Exactly. By the time we’re at full operational capacity, we’ll have established supply chain relationships and consumer confidence.” I pause, glancing around the room. Sophie is somewhere behind me, probably still at the bar where I left her. “Huang appreciates long-term thinking over quick returns.”
“Unlike some of our American partners,” adds Marco Velasquez, joining our circle with a fresh drink. “They want everything yesterday.”
“Americans think quarterly,” I reply. “We think in decades.”
“Speaking of thinking long-term,” Torrino’s voice takes on a different quality, more careful, “your announcement tonight was quite… unexpected.”
Here it comes. I’ve been waiting for this conversation since I introduced Sophie. “Unexpected how?”
“Bellini,” Velasquez says the name like he’s tasting something bitter. “Dom, we’ve known each other for fifteen years. Our families have done business together longer than that. So when you marry into a family that…”
“That what?” I keep my tone conversational, but there’s steel underneath.
“That tried to destroy your father’s legacy,” Torrino finishes quietly. “People are going to have questions.”
“People always have questions.” I drain my whiskey, signaling a waiter for another. “Doesn’t mean I’m obligated to answer them.”
“But you understand why we’re concerned,” Velasquez presses. “The Bellini name carries weight. History. Not all of it is pleasant.”
“History,” I repeat. “Something that happened when we were children.”
“Something that got your parents killed,” Torrino corrects sharply.
A muscle in my jaw ticks. “My parents died in Italy. The circumstances were… complicated.”
