Page 70 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
“I’ll handle everything. Just keep your pretty face in front of the cameras tonight, and don’t forget to shake the hands that matter.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll see you later.”
The call ended, and I tossed the phone onto the bed, exhaling slowly. I should’ve known Enrico would keep testing me.
The man had a habit of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, and I was getting really close to breaking it for him. If it wouldn’t affect Luca and Maria, I would have taken him out a long time ago. But that was a problem for another time.
Tonight, I had a different role to play. I changed into my tux, adjusting the cuffs before slipping on my jacket. The mirror reflected someone who looked exactly like me but felt like a stranger. This wasn’t me.
The suit. The charm. The smiles I would give tonight. It was a mask. A necessary one, but a mask, nonetheless. It is funny that when I became Shade, it felt strange wearing a mask. But now, this felt like the mask. It felt like I didn’t fit in.
Shoving those thoughts aside, I stepped out of my room and went straight to Maria’s door. I knocked twice. The door opened, and for the first time in my life, I forgot how to breathe.
Maria stood there. Her gown was beautifully made and left little to the imagination. My mouth went dry, and I was unable to say anything coherent or even reasonable. She turned slightly, her dark eyes meeting mine, a small, almost shy look crossing her face.
“You clean up nicely,” I muttered, my voice lower than I intended.
She arched her brow. “Are you giving me a compliment, Bianchi?”
“Don’t get used to it,” I teased. I wanted to say more, to tell her how she took my breath away and stole every breath from my lungs at the sight of her. She smirked, but then her expression shifted.
“I need help.” Her voice was quieter now, like she was debating saying the words at all. She turned, exposing more of her bare skin to me, her shoulders tense.
“I can’t tie it myself.” My hands flexed at my sides.
I stepped forward, closing the space between us. Trying to keep my eyes on the task and not wander too far. My fingers found thestraps at the nape of her neck, but I didn’t tie them immediately. I shouldn’t have hesitated. But I did.
I could feel the heat of her skin beneath my fingertips. The scent of whatever perfume she wore wrapped around me like a drug I wanted to taste. Like I always said, it was one I was addicted to and intoxicated by: vanilla and a hint of jasmine, something sweet and delicate, like her.
I clenched my jaw. One simple action. That was all this was. I forced my hands to move,tying the straps slowly, too slowly, my fingers grazing the curve of her back. Maria exhaled softly, almost inaudibly, but I felt it. I felt everything. The radiation off her body. The heat. The pull that had been between us since the beginning.
It would be so easy. So damn easy to lean in and press my lips against the skin I knew would be soft. But I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t. I finished tying her dress, stepping back like I hadn’t just considered breaking every rule I had set for myself.
“Done.”
Maria turned to face me, her eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I wanted her to find. Then she moved closer. My breathing slowed.
Her hands reached up, adjusting my tie, her fingers brushing against my neck. It burned. A simple touch, but it set every nerve in my body on fire. I swallowed hard. “I can fix my own tie, Maria.”
“I know.” She didn’t stop.
I clenched my fists, every muscle in my body tightening. There was only so much I could take. And I was dangerously close to breaking.
“All done,” she announced, and I let out a slow, exasperated breath. We headed out without saying a word, but we both knew we were about to break.
The gala was like every other high-profile event—grand chandeliers, expensive wine, and people dressed in the finest fabrics money could buy.
But none of that mattered because the moment I introduced Maria as my fiancée, the whole world faded.
“This is Maria Russo, my fiancée.”
The words rolled off my tongue effortlessly. Too effortlessly, I expected it to feel strange. A lie carefully constructed for the public eye. But it didn’t. It felt right. And that was the problem.
Maria glanced at me, her lips slightly parted like she, too, had felt the shift between us. But she said nothing. She simply smiled for the cameras, her fingers brushing against mine briefly before she slipped her arm through mine as we moved further inside.
I was used to pretending. I had perfected it. But with Maria, I wasn’t sure where the act ended and reality began.
And when they announced the slow dance, I knew I was in trouble, not only because I was a bad dancer but because the cameras were still on us, and we would have to participate.
