Page 57 of The Seventh Circle
I recognized the command disguised as suggestion. Another obligation, another chain.
"If you'll excuse me," I said, bowing slightly. "I should congratulate Don Vitelli on his daughter's accomplishments."
I moved through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and accepting congratulations on my engagement. Paolo watched from across the room, never approaching but always visible, a constant reminder of his surveillance.
As the evening progressed, I found myself repeatedly positioned beside Sophia for photographs, introductions, and conversations about our future. Each moment was another public commitment, another witness to our engagement, another obstacle to disappearing quietly.
Near midnight, as guests began departing, I finally managed to slip away to the garden. The night air was cool against my face, the distant sound of crickets a blessed relief from social chatter.
"Hiding?" Sophia's voice came from the shadows.
I turned to find her seated on a stone bench, her violincase beside her.
"Taking air," I corrected, moving to join her. "You played beautifully tonight."
"Thank you." She studied me in the moonlight. "You're a convincing performer yourself."
I stiffened. "I don't know what you mean."
"Please, Lorenzo." She sighed. "You've smiled at precisely the right moments, said all the appropriate things, and looked at me with perfect affection whenever someone important was watching. Yet the moment their attention shifts, something in you... withdraws."
Her perception was disarming. "I apologize if I've been distant."
"I don't want your apology. I want honesty." She smoothed her skirt, a nervous gesture at odds with her direct words. "This marriage is happening whether we desire it or not. I'd prefer we at least begin with truth between us."
I considered my response carefully. "What truth are you seeking, Sophia?"
"For one, I'd like to know if there's someone else." Her voice remained calm, matter-of-fact. "Someone you would rather be with."
The question hit dangerously close to home. "Why would you think that?"
"Because I recognize reluctance when I see it. And because your cousin Paolo suggested as much to my father."
My blood turned to ice. "Paolo said what, exactly?"
"That you might have formed an... inappropriate attachment. That it was nothing serious, merely a youthful indiscretion you were struggling to end properly." She looked directly at me. "He assured my father it would be resolved before the wedding."
Paolo's strategy became crystal clear. He was simultaneously forcing me deeper into the engagement while plantingseeds about my relationship with Antonio—creating a situation where any attempt to flee would confirm the rumors he'd already started.
"Your cousin seems very involved in our engagement," Sophia observed when I didn't respond.
"Paolo has always been... protective of family interests."
"Is it true?" she asked quietly. "Is there someone else?"
I looked at this intelligent, perceptive woman who deserved better than to be a pawn in my family's ambitions or Paolo's manipulations.
"Sophia, I—"
"There you are!" Paolo's voice boomed across the garden as he approached with Don Vitelli. "We've been looking everywhere for you two."
Don Vitelli beamed at the sight of us sitting together. "Ah, young love seeking privacy. I remember those days."
Paolo's smile never reached his eyes. "Your father is preparing to leave, Lorenzo. He asked that you join him to bid farewell to our hosts."
"Of course." I stood, offering Sophia my hand. "Shall we?"
As we walked back toward the villa, Paolo fell into step beside me, leaning close enough to whisper.
