Chapter 5 New bodyguard?

The entire room changed.

It wasn't loud. No dramatic announcement echoed through the hall. No servant called out his arrival. Yet conversations stopped almost instinctively, forks paused halfway to mouths, and every pair of eyes shifted toward the doorway as though pulled there by an invisible thread. 

He walked in wearing another perfectly tailored black suit, his movements unhurried, composed, every step carrying that same impossible stillness I'd been unable to stop thinking about since the warehouse. 

For one ridiculous second, my heart genuinely forgot how to beat. My mouth parted like I was about to swallow fish. It was him. The silent man from the warehouse. 

The one I'd spent the last two days convincing myself I'd never see again because men like him didn't belong in ordinary people's lives. Relief washed over me first, surprising me with its intensity, followed almost immediately by confusion. 

What on earth was he doing here? 

My eyes followed him shamelessly as he crossed the room, acknowledging no one, his expression as unreadable as ever. 

Around me, whispers began spreading from one end of the table to the other. 

“That's him..." someone murmured. "The Mute Mafia King." 

“I heard no one's heard him speak in over twenty years." 

“Some say he physically can't." 

“Others say the last person who heard his voice didn't live long enough to tell anyone." 

“Is he actually here?" 

“He never attends family dinners..." 

My brows knitted together. The Mute Mafia King? Somehow that ridiculous title suited him far better than it should have.

“Ian,” Vittorio said, and the warmth in his voice was so different from the warmth he’d aimed at me minutes earlier that it took me a second to place it as genuine. “You made it. Sit.”

Ian didn’t sit. Ian’s eyes found mine across the table before he did anything else, and for one suspended, ridiculous second neither of us moved at all, the entire room narrowing down to just that, his eyes, the same strange dark-amber I’d noticed in the wreckage of that warehouse, fixed on me like he was just as unprepared to see me here as I was to see him. My breath spluttered.

“You two have met, I take it,” Vittorio said, glancing between us with something sharp and assessing in his expression now, all traces of his earlier warmth gone cold and calculating.

“Briefly,” I managed, finding my voice somewhere underneath the ringing in my ears. “He shot two men in front of me and then refused to introduce himself. Very memorable first date.”

I rested my chin on my hand and looked directly at him. “You know, most people would’ve at least accepted a thank you.” Nothing. Not even a blink in my direction. “See?” I pointed at him before looking around the table. “This is what I’m talking about.” 

The man seated beside Ian, dark-haired and grinning like he’d been waiting all evening for an excuse to talk to someone, extended a hand across the table toward me. 

“Matteo,” he offered, by way of introduction. I took it with a polite smile.

“And for what it’s worth, you’re not wrong. He’s a nightmare at parties.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice dramatically. “Careful. If you keep pushing him, you might actually get a grunt.” 

I gasped theatrically. "A grunt?" 

He nodded solemnly. "They're very rare." 

“When was the last one?" 

“About eight months ago." 

My eyes widened. "You're surviving on one grunt every eight months?" 

Matteo shrugged. "It's been a difficult year." 

Even a few of the older men couldn't suppress their smiles. I looked back at Ian with exaggerated pity. 

“Your poor friends. Imagine rationing your conversations like bottled water." 

Ian's large hand paused almost imperceptibly around his wineglass before continuing as though nothing had happened. I could have sworn I imagined it, but Matteo noticed too because he immediately smirked into his drink.

Vittorio cleared his throat, effortlessly reclaiming everyone's attention. "Miss Bellamonte certainly has a lively spirit." 

“I've been told I talk too much," I admitted pleasantly. "It's usually by people who don't talk enough." 

Matteo coughed into his drink while someone further down the table snorted. 

Vittorio smiled, though this time it seemed considerably more forced. "I imagine that quality will make the house... less quiet." 

“Well, someone has to contribute to the future conversations," I replied, glancing deliberately toward Ian. "Otherwise dinner must be incredibly peaceful." 

Vittorio ignored the remark. "Speaking of the future, I believe it's time we discuss the wedding." 

Just like that, every trace of humor drained from my body. My fingers tightened around my fork. 

"Your father and I have finalized almost every arrangement. The engagement dinner will take place next week, followed shortly by the wedding itself." 

I stared at him, my tongue heavy like lid. "So... I don't get a say?" 

He regarded me with the patient smile one might give a stubborn child. "Marriage in families like ours has never been about preference, Kimora. It is about duty."

The words settled heavily inside my chest. Duty. Such a polished word for being sold. My father had smiled while agreeing to this arrangement. 

My mother had helped choose dresses. My stepsister had cried fake tears while secretly celebrating that she wasn't the one sitting here. 

Every single person had decided my future except me. I lowered my eyes to my untouched food, suddenly unable to remember whether I'd eaten anything at all. 

Vittorio continued as though he hadn't quietly dismantled my entire life in less than a minute. "After the recent kidnapping, another matter has become equally important. Your security." My attention lifted reluctantly. "Whoever orchestrated that attack clearly believes you're valuable. Until the wedding is over, I refuse to take unnecessary risks."

Vittorio finally turned toward the silent man sitting opposite me. "Ian." Instantly, the room grew still. Ian lifted his eyes from his plate, his expression as unreadable as ever. "From this moment forward, Kimora's protection is your responsibility. She does not leave the estate alone. She attends every meeting, fitting and function with you beside her. Wherever she goes, you go." 

My mouth fell open before I could stop it. Ian didn't argue or even appear surprised. He simply held Vittorio's gaze for a long moment before giving one short nod. That was it. Decision made. 

I looked from Vittorio to Ian and back again, completely bewildered. "Wait... you mean him?" I pointed directly across the table. 

Vittorio smiled. "Yes." 

I groaned, dropping my forehead into my hand. 

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Matteo burst into laughter so hard he nearly knocked over his wineglass. "This," he declared between laughs, "is officially the best thing that's happened to this family in years."