Chapter 2

Nerissa's POV

Two months after my status was officially publicized, my father slid a gold-embossed invitation across the mahogany desk.

"You will represent the Vespucci family at Dante Bellini's birthday gala," Ottavio commanded. "Do not disappoint us."

Marchesa sneered from the chaise lounge. "Since your identity is out, it's time you start earning your keep. Don't forget who gave you the right to even stand in a Vespucci room."

I kept my mouth shut.

The Bellini estate was drowning in decadent opulence.

I navigated the grand ballroom, feeling the predatory gazes of mafia soldiers and syndicate bosses tracking my movements.

Suddenly, a profound hush swept over the far end of the room.

Carmine stood beside Dante Bellini. He wore a sharply tailored charcoal suit, a silver lapel pin catching the chandelier light. He was leaner, his face hardened, the gentle brilliance of his eyes replaced by a razor-sharp chill.

Our eyes collided across the crowded room.

I had prepared myself for anger, hatred, or even mockery. But I was entirely unprepared for the sheer, absolute indifference in his gaze. He looked at me for a split second before looking away, as if I were a complete stranger.

My lungs seized.

"Miss Vespucci," Silvano's voice rumbled behind me. "Come here."

I walked over on trembling legs. Silvano raised his glass, commanding the attention of the surrounding crowd. "Gentlemen, allow me to introduce my future sister-in-law, Nerissa Calvino, the youngest daughter of Ottavio Vespucci."

Polite murmurs of acknowledgment rippled through the circle.

I gripped my champagne glass until my knuckles turned white. No one here knew that the "youngest daughter" had been forced to drop to her knees and scrub Renata's shoes. No one knew that the man introducing me spent his nights marking my flesh.

"A pleasure, Nerissa," Dante Bellini raised his glass to me. "I hope you find our hospitality agreeable."

"Thank you, Don Bellini," I forced a polished smile. "I am honored."

This was the card I had to play: no hiding, no crying. I had to stand tall.

As the night wore on, my eyes kept drifting back to Carmine.

But he was no longer the boy who wore a stethoscope. He moved like a shadow behind Dante, nodding as deals were brokered, taking notes on transactions. When men of power offered him a glass, he bowed slightly, introducing himself with perfect, cold formality.

"Carmine Torrisi. The pleasure is mine."

"I look forward to our future dealings," he said, clinking glasses.

Watching him bend his knee to the underworld carved a dull, rusty knife through my heart. To survive, or perhaps to climb, he had thrown himself into the mouth of the beast. He was serving Dante Bellini.

I was on the verge of walking over, of screaming the truth to him, when Silvano's hand clamped around my wrist like a vice.

"Don't go near him."

"I was just getting a drink."

"Then stay by my side."

Carmine must have heard. He turned his head slightly, his eyes void of emotion, watching Silvano's fingers tighten on my arm as if we were nothing but scenery.

I chose silence. If I spoke, I risked exposing everything. And whatever dignity I had left in his eyes would be ground into dust.

As the gala ended, Silvano and I walked down the sweeping marble steps of the estate. To my shock, Renata's town car was idling at the curb.

She leaned against the leather seat, wrapped in a white cashmere shawl, looking dangerously pale. Yet, she smiled and reached for my hand.

"My lungs couldn't handle the smoke inside, but I was worried you'd be frightened for your first event. I wanted to see you safe."

"I'm fine, Renata. You shouldn't have risked the night air."

We climbed in. Within minutes, the fatigue claimed Renata, and she fell asleep against my shoulder. Silvano sat across from us. He leaned forward to tuck her blanket tighter, his touch incredibly delicate, as if handling spun glass.

I turned my head to look out the window.

But as the city lights blurred past, Silvano’s hand suddenly shot out in the darkness. Before I could gasp, he hauled me off my seat and onto his lap, his arms pinning me down.

"Let me go!" I hissed under my breath.

"Hush. Don't wake her," he whispered against my ear.

I shoved fiercely at his shoulders, but his grip was iron. The next second, his mouth slammed down on mine with a brutal, suffocating hunger.

I thrashed away, my hands flat against his chest, terrified of making a sound. Renata was right there, sleeping peacefully, while her fiancé tore a silent moan from my throat.

I bit down hard on his lip until the metallic taste of blood filled our mouths, but he only drank deeper.