“You must have been so surprised to be invited tonight, Eva,” Linda says smoothly, lifting her wine glass. “I mean, family dinners like these are usually reserved for family only.”
I’m not sure what’s worse—the subtle barbs and smirks, or the judging glances and false compliments.
It’s been a while since Dante headed off with Isabella for a private word, and I’ve been holding my own—more or less—against Linda, Luca, and Sarah. The second he was out of earshot, it was as if they sensed their chance, evil grins widening like sharks circling their prey.
Sarah, practically buzzing from Linda’s goading, chimes in, “Oh, but she and Dante are just so close, aren’t they?” She tilts her head at me, mock concern on her face. “Although I do have to say, you’re kind of an unexpected choice for him. I mean, Dante’s always been such a refined man, always had a particular taste.” Her eyes flick over me, the insult barely concealed.
I smile. “I suppose some men prefer a woman with a mind of her own rather than a Barbie doll who’s been raised to be nothing but a trophy.”
Luca snorts, and Sarah’s face tightens.
Linda smiles thinly, swirling her wine. “Eva, some women simply fit certain roles better than others. It’s all about keeping up appearances, maintaining a certain status.” She sighs dramatically, her eyes narrowing at me. “However, that can be difficult for some women, especially when genetics aren’t in their favor.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing the ache in my chest to recede.
Don’t lash out. Don’t let them see they’re getting to you.
Luca chuckles, barely glancing up from espresso. “Come on, Mom. Eva’s always been comfortable in her own skin. Nothing wrong with being… what’s the word?” He taps a finger against his lip. “Soft.”
Sarah giggles into her champagne glass.
“At least I’m not spineless,” I say sweetly, turning my gaze directly onto Luca. “I mean, it’s impressive how little integrity you have, considering who your father is. I would’ve thought some of it would’ve rubbed off.”
Luca’s smirk falters just slightly.
Linda huffs. “Oh, dear. Someone’s feeling defensive, I—”
I open my mouth to fire back, but before I can, a shadow looms behind Linda’s shoulder. I see him before anyone else, his eyes flashing with barely contained fury. He steps around her, predatory-like, clearing his throat in a way that halts her mid-sentence.
The air shifts, heavy with a sudden tension. Linda’s posture stiffens, and Luca’s expression immediately becomes more neutral, though I don’t miss the way his shoulders subtly lock up.
Dante’s voice is quiet, but there’s a lethal edge underneath. “Am I interrupting something?”
Linda freezes, turning to face him. The smug smile on her face falters. “Dante,” she says, forcing false civility. “We were just chatting.”
Dante’s gaze slides to me. “About what?”
“Oh, just about how important it is to keep up certain appearances in this family,” Linda replies casually.
I lift my chin, offering him a small, weary smile. He looks from me to Linda, then at Luca and Sarah, a flash of disapproval in his eyes. Luca clears his throat and Sarah leans back, crossing her arms.
The tension in the room is almost suffocating. There’s nowhere for Linda to hide, so she hurries to defend herself. “I was simply pointing out that some of us are more vigilant about our appearances, while others can remain comfortably indifferent.”
I look at Dante. I can’t read his expression, but I see his jaw tightening.
“Linda,” he says quietly, “don’t you think your commentary on appearances is growing old? We’re all aware of your dedication to vanity.”
Linda’s cheeks redden as she lets out a weak laugh.
Still, the damage is done. My stomach knots, and I can’t shake the growing certainty that this is all too much. Trying to hold my own in a family of wolves, to remain composed under constant attack is exhausting.
Dante sets his hand gently on my arm, concern in his gaze. “Eva?”
I force a smile, but my words come out tight. “I’m fine.”
He frowns, well aware that’s a lie. “Are you sure?”
Linda arches a brow, her voice dipping into false sympathy. “Yes, dear, you do look rather tired. Long day?”
I close my eyes for a beat, fighting the urge to say something I might regret. Instead, I swallow the anger—and humiliation—and push my chair away from the table. “Excuse me,” I manage. “I need some air.”
Sarah and Luca exchange a smug glance, and Linda’s scarlet lips quirk up in a slight smile, as though she’s just won a prize. It takes everything I have not to run from the room.
Dante’s hand lingers on my arm as I stand. “Eva—” he starts.
I shake my head, forcing a false grin. “I’ll be right back. Promise.”
Turning on my heel, I exit the dining room. The corridor outside feels like a refuge, the cool marble offering respite from the stifling heat I just came from. My mind still reels with the echo of Linda’s barbs, Sarah’s cruel giggles, and Luca’s sneers.
Why am I putting myself through this?
Just seconds after I reach the foyer, Dante appears behind me. I brace myself, expecting him to ask me to return, to pretend everything’s fine.
But instead, his voice is gentle as he says, “Eva, talk to me.”
I spin, arms crossed protectively over my chest. The expression on his face is pure concern, and that only makes the knot in my stomach twist tighter. “Dante, I can’t keep doing this,” I confess. “Your mother has been kind enough. But Linda, Sarah, Luca… they’re impossible. And they’re your family.”
He takes a slow step toward me, his brow creasing. “You don’t have to deal with them, Eva.”
I shake my head. “Luca is your son. Sarah is his wife. And even though you’re divorced from Linda, she’s still Luca’s mother. She’s not going anywhere, that’s clear. This is your life and they are all a part of it.”
He exhales in frustration. “I never said it wasn’t complicated. But you’re not alone.”
My throat constricts as I weigh the balance of what we have versus the misery of being targeted by his family. “I stood my ground as best I could, but it’s exhausting to have to keep defending myself, something I shouldn’t have to do in the first place.”
He moves closer, taking my hand and gently squeezing it. “We can leave if you want,” he says softly, though I can sense his reluctance. He might be willing to do it, but the message it sends is another matter—retreating in front of Linda and Luca might be seen as yielding to them.
Still, I appreciate his offer. “I’d like to go, but you should stay. I’ll just call myself an Uber.”
His eyes widen with surprise. “Are you sure?”
I nod, tears threatening. I hate how emotional I feel, but the onslaught of insults and the pressure to fit into a circle that despises me is too much. “I need space, Dante. This whole dinner has been—” I break off, pulling in a shaky inhale. “They were so… horrible. Linda just wouldn’t stop. Luca egged her on, and Sarah giggled at every barb. I can’t do it.”
He looks stricken, guilt warring with anger. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone with them.”
I blink back the tears, stepping away. “It’s not your fault. You were with your mom. But I just don’t think I can be with someone who has such a cruel family. I’m sorry.”
The words burn my throat as they spill out. I see the flash of pain in his eyes, but I can’t take it back. It’s the truth, or at least how I feel in the moment—trapped, cornered, humiliated.
“Eva, wait—” he says, reaching for me.
I pull away, swallowing the lump in my throat. “No, I need to go.”
A flicker of raw hurt takes over his features. Then he blows out a long exhale and nods. “Let me at least walk you outside.”
Relief and heartbreak merge as Dante guides me out the massive front doors. I pause on the wide stone steps, trying to steady my breathing. The manicured garden lies below on either side, discreetly lit. Turmoil fills my heart.
“I’m sorry, Dante,” I say after several seconds. “I know you’re different from them, but…” I gesture at the mansion. “I don’t know if I can handle that world without losing my mind, or myself.”
For the first time since I’ve met him, Dante looks defeated. “I won’t force you to be with me if you don’t want to, Eva.”
“I just need time.”
Pain flashes in his eyes again, but he acquiesces. “Take all the time you need.”
I slowly walk down the steps, my heels clicking against the stone. By the time I reach the driveway, I’m fumbling for my phone, tears threatening to spill. One final glance over my shoulder reveals Dante, still at the top of the stairs, hands clenched at his sides, face etched with regret and longing.
Moments later, the Uber arrives. I slip inside, my throat tight. I glimpse Dante’s silhouette one last time as we pull away.
Only then do I let out a choked sob.
