His gaze swept over me, cold and dismissive. His eyes said it all: Don't you dare.
A moment later, my phone buzzed twice against the white linen.
A message from Lorenzo.
"Adriana, don't breathe a word about the union."
"Now isn't the right time."
I almost laughed.
Not the right time? The only reason was that he and Bianca had finally buried the old misunderstanding between them, the one that had festered for years. He believed there was a real chance to rekindle whatever had once burned there.
But why should I step aside and play the selfless fool, so the two of them could ride off into the sunset while every made man at the table watched?
I rose slowly to my feet. Around the room, a few conversations thinned, the way they always did when someone stood without being told to sit.
"Lorenzo, weren't you going to tell everyone the truth?"
Lorenzo shot up from his seat, every muscle in his body going rigid.
He stared at me for a long, hard moment. His hand settled flat against the table, and it went utterly still there. Then he turned stiffly toward the gathering.
"Yes."
"Adriana and I were together once."
"But that's in the past."
"We're finished."
My head snapped up. I stared at him, disbelief written across my face, my nails digging into my palms hard enough to break skin.
Bianca tilted her chin up, her face lighting with barely contained delight as she looked at Lorenzo.
"Really? So you're a free man now?"
The words had barely left her mouth before the room erupted, all the old associates and family sons leaning in like men who'd smelled fresh blood.
"Dio, I am rooting for these two so hard right now."
"This is what fate looks like. They went their separate ways, but the right one always circles back around."
"I'd bleed for a bottle of the good vintage just to see these two together."
Amid the noise and the appetite, Marco, the same man who'd called me shameless earlier, glanced my way. Something like pity flickered in his eyes. He cracked the knuckle of his thumb once, slowly.
He passed by me, let out a sigh, and shook his head.
"You asked for it."
I sank back into my chair, boneless.
Never, not once, had I imagined Lorenzo would dishonor me like this before every witness in the room. That he'd look me in the eye and deny it all with his own mouth, in front of the whole network of families.
The mocking voices around me only grew louder.
"Oh, so that's who she is. Just an ex who couldn't make the cut."
"The way she was carrying on, I half expected her to claim she was the great Don Moretti's wife."
"Please. Has she looked in a mirror? As if she'd ever be good enough for a man at the head of that table."
I lowered my gaze to the ring of the blood oath on my left hand, and I began to twist it slowly with my thumb.
What a joke I am.
Bianca must have noticed how pale I'd gone. She shot me a look dripping with triumph, then picked up her glass and sauntered over on her heels, unhurried, like a woman who already owned the room.
"Adriana, I know the old wound must still sting."
"But love is like that, isn't it? When it's real, not even God Himself can stand in the way."
"Lorenzo just admitted it. He was with you."
"But you two weren't cut for each other. Otherwise, why would it have ended? Don't you think?"
She clinked her glass lightly against mine, her smile radiant.
"I'll drain mine for you. You drink as much or as little as you'd like."
Then she tipped her head back and swallowed every drop.
I sat there. Motionless.
The only time Lorenzo came near me was when he made the rounds, paying his respects to every man in the room the way custom demanded. When he reached my table, he paused.
He looked at me for a long, quiet moment. Then, under the pretense of touching his glass to mine, he leaned in close and dropped his voice so low it never left the space between us.
"Adriana, be smart about this."
"Don't make things awkward for Bianca."
I stared back at him, my gaze ice-cold. But Lorenzo had already looked away, drifting back to Bianca's side.
The two of them talked and laughed together. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Lorenzo's eyes crinkle like that, his smile so easy, so unguarded, the mask of the Don set down for a woman who wasn't me.
It didn't take long.
The old associates started egging them on for a lovers' toast.
Everyone at the table who had no notion that Lorenzo and I were blood-bound was cheering the pair on like it was the event of the season.
"Come on, drink. This toast is long overdue for you two."
"You're both free anyway. What's the holdup?"
"And hey, if either of you gets a little too deep in the wine later, Lorenzo can always see Bianca home. You're grown. Even if you end up behind a locked door somewhere, who here is going to judge?"
