Play the quiet, obedient wife,Cassio had told me.
Fuck that.
Before Cassio can open his mouth, I reach out. I slide my hand across the white linen tablecloth and place it firmly, over Cassio’s clenched fist.
Cassio freezes. His head snaps toward me, shock registering in his pitch-black eyes.
I don't look at him. I look directly across the table at Don Orlando Genovese.
"With all due respect, Papa," I say clearly and calmly. "Finesse is a luxury for peacetime. We are not at peace."
My father’s jaw drops. His fork clatters against his plate. He stares at me as if I have suddenly sprouted a second head. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," I continue, projecting a confidence that sends a wild, adrenaline-fueled thrill rushing through my veins. "The Bratva don't respect disappearances. They respect strength. Cassio’s response at the warehouse sent a message that Volkov cannot ignore. He showed them that the Vellutini territory, and by extension, the Genovese alliance, is a fortress, not a revolving door."
"Noemi," my mother gasps from down the table, scandalized by my blatant defiance of my father in front of the other Capos. "It is not your place to speak on syndicate business."
"I am the Don’s wife," I reply smoothly, turning my dark, unyielding gaze to my mother. "It is entirely my place to defend my husband’s methods when they are what keep us all alive."
The silence that follows is so profound you could hear a pin drop.
Slowly, Cassio turns his hand over beneath mine. He links his long fingers through mine, his grip is tight, warm, and electrifying.
"My wife is correct," Cassio murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating purr that sends a shiver straight down to my toes. He is looking at me, not my father. The shock in his eyes has been replaced by awe-struck pride. "The era of quiet politics is over, Orlando. We hold the line with fire, or we don't hold it at all."
My father’s face is a mottled, furious red, but he cannot argue. Not without openly fracturing the peace dinner. He picks up his scotch and takes a heavy, defeated swallow.
I feel a gaze burning a hole into the side of my head. I turn my eyes down the table.
Dario is staring at me. His face is pale, his expression a twisted mask of jealousy and utter confusion. He expected to see a victim tonight. He expected me to be miserable, begging him for a way out with my eyes.
Instead, he sees me holding the hand of the monster, completely in my element.
Dario raises his glass of champagne, offering me a tight, desperate little smile, clearly hoping to share a secret moment of solidarity.
I don't smile back. I look at him with freezing indifference. I let my gaze drop dismissively from his face to my plate, completely cutting him off.
Out of my peripheral vision, I see the corner of Cassio’s mouth curve into a vicious, triumphant smirk.
The rest of the dinner passes in a blur of forced politeness. My father is subdued, effectively neutered by my public defection. Don Lombardi is sweating through his suit, clearly realizing that the Vellutini-Genovese alliance is not the fragile, fractured alliance he had hoped it would be.
When the dessert is cleared, and the final glasses of limoncello are drained, the guests finally begin to take their leave.
Cassio and I stand in the grand foyer, playing the perfect hosts as the families file out.
"Goodnight, Noemi," my father says stiffly, not meeting my eyes.
"Goodnight, Papa. Safe travels," I reply, my tone is perfectly polite, perfectly devoid of warmth.
When the heavy oak doors finally shut behind the Lombardi men, the echoing thud signals the end of the performance. The house is locked down instantly. The guards resume their posts.
The adrenaline that has been keeping my spine steel-straight for the last three hours suddenly vanishes, leaving me dizzy and exhausted. I let out a long, shaky breath, reaching up to rub my temples.
"Matteo," Cassio barks, not looking away from me. "Clear the foyer."
"Yes, Boss." Matteo gestures to the remaining guards, and within seconds, the massive entryway is completely empty, leaving just the two of us standing beneath the glittering crystal chandelier.
Cassio turns to me. He takes a step into my personal space. The predatory grace of his movement makes my heart kick into a frantic, erratic rhythm.