“Breathe,” he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. “She’s going to love you.”
Dante’s warm palm presses gently against the small of my back, grounding me.
I smooth my hands over my dress, ignoring the soft tremor in them. The mansion’s front doors tower before me, carved mahogany polished to a flawless sheen. My heart thuds against my chest a little too fast.
It’s only dinner, I remind myself.
Dante’s wearing a tailored black suit with a crisp white shirt, no tie. God, he’s sexy. The way he looks at me—calm and reassuring—settles some of the nerves.
“I’m trying,” I whisper, attempting a shaky smile. “Are you absolutely sure this is a good idea?”
He dips his head, lips brushing my ear. “We’d have to do it eventually. Besides, my mother insisted.”
Just hearing the name of the formidable Isabella Bellacino is enough to send a fresh wave of anxiety fluttering through me. She’s the legendary matriarch, the quiet force behind the family’s throne. She’s the one who asked—more like demanded—I come tonight.
When Dante told me, I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach. Sure, we’ve been together for a while now, but this is a lot.
A butler opens the massive doors, the warmth of the foyer enveloping us. Marble floors gleam under the soft glow of chandeliers, and somewhere off in the distance, I catch a whiff of roasted garlic and herbs. My stomach grumbles—part hunger, part nerves.
Dante leads me inside, his hand never leaving my back. A staff member appears to take our coats. We step forward into an ornate hallway lined with oil paintings, the muted sound of conversation echoing from the next room.
“Mr. Bellacino, Ms. Smith,” the butler says with a deferential nod. “Madam Isabella is expecting you.”
Ms. Smith. The formality makes me want to laugh—or maybe cry. I’m about to break bread with the Bellacino clan, the city’s most feared and respected family. Calling me Ms. Smith as if I’m a dignitary. I muster a polite nod and let Dante guide me toward the dining room.
The space is grand—vaulted ceilings above a long mahogany table covered in immaculate silken linens, gleaming silver flanking fine China, fresh-cut flowers in crystal vases. The glow of the chandelier overhead highlights every polished surface. I squint as I enter the room, scanning the faces already gathered.
My gaze immediately lands on Luca.
Of course he’s here, sitting stiffly near the far end, Sarah perched meekly beside him. She adjusts her strapless dress, tossing her shiny blonde hair with an air of self-satisfaction. Her eyes flick to me briefly before she glances away, and I catch the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.
Standing near them is Luca’s mother, Linda. She’s striking, with meticulously styled honey-brown hair and a face that suggests more than a little help from modern cosmetic procedures. Her dress is chic, clinging to a figure that clearly belongs to someone used to expensive spa treatments and personal trainers. I can’t help but wonder why she’s here. She glances our way, lips tightening in a tilted grin that doesn’t reach her eyes.
Seated at the head of the table is Isabella herself. She sits with a poised regality that could put royalty to shame. Dressed in a flowing dark dress, her silver hair twisted into an elegant chignon, she radiates queenly authority.
The second she sees Dante, her expression warms, and then her gaze shifts to me, keen and assessing.
Dante’s arm wraps gently around my waist, wordlessly reminding me I’m not alone.
“Good evening, everyone,” he says by way of greeting, his voice respectful. “Thank you for having us. Eva, this is my mother, Isabella.”
Isabella tilts her head, her piercing gaze staring into my soul.
“Dante. Eva.” She says my name smoothly, like she’s already tried it out a few times. “Welcome.”
I step forward, nerves strung tight. “Thank you, Mrs. Bellacino. I appreciate the invitation.”
Her eyes narrow slightly though kindly. “Isabella,” she corrects with a smile. “We’re famiglia tonight, are we not?”
My cheeks warm. “Of course. Isabella.”
Dante touches my elbow. “Shall we sit?”
We move toward the table. Luca rises halfway, nodding stiffly at me.
“Eva,” he murmurs. His tone is polite enough, though I see the tension in his posture. Sarah plasters on her signature brittle smile, giving me a judgmental once-over before looking away.
Suddenly, Luca’s mother rises from her chair and crosses the room in a swish of expensive perfume, a bright, false grin on her face.
“Dante darling! It’s been ages since we’ve all been under one roof. You look well.” She leans in, air-kissing near his cheek, and I can instantly sense his aversion as he endures it.
He steps back smoothly, clearing his throat. “Linda.”
She turns to me, the fake grin fading. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Eva. I’ve heard… so much.” She doesn’t specify what.
I match her gaze with carefully cultivated politeness. “Lovely to meet you.”
She eyes me for a split second, and I sense the unspoken question lingering: Who is this curvy upstart sharing my ex-husband’s bed?
But instead she says, “Charmed, I’m sure.”
Isabella clears her throat as she waves a hand over the table, signifying for us to sit. “Shall we? The first course should be ready.”
Dante pulls out a chair for me near Isabella, then takes the seat next to mine and we settle in.
Across the table, Luca and Sarah eye me with varying degrees of discomfort. Linda seats herself beside Sarah, smoothing her dress and shooting me tight smiles whenever our gazes cross.
Within minutes, the staff appears with an array of appetizers—prosciutto-wrapped figs, tomato bruschetta, marinated olives. The conversation starts with polite small talk about the weather, the city’s upcoming social events, and a new charity gala. I do my best to keep up, though I can feel Linda’s eyes flicking my way every so often.
“You look lovely tonight, Eva,” Sarah says at one point, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “That color is so flattering on you. It really balances out… everything.” She gives me a smirk, her implication clear.
I grip my fork a little tighter, willing my pulse to stay steady as irritation quickly rises up.
Isabella watches the exchange in silence. It’s almost as if she’s testing me, waiting to see how I handle the unspoken insults.
I meet Sarah’s smug gaze head-on and smile sweetly. “Thank you. Some of us have assets worth accentuating while others rely on their last name and hope no one notices their lack of substance.”
I glance at Luca, his smirk tightening, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. Sarah coughs into her hand, while Linda’s eyes narrow in displeasure.
Luca opens his mouth to speak but Dante shuts it down.
“Say something, Luca,” Dante goads him, the tone of his voice carrying a lethal edge. “See how well that works out for you.”
Luca wisely shuts his mouth, his fingers tightening around his knife. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Isabella reach for her wine, taking a slow sip as a faint, knowing smile curves her lips.
She interjects, poised and proper, as she says, “Honestly, a woman’s figure is her virtue. In our family, child-bearing hips are prized, are they not?” Her eyes look to Sarah, and Sarah’s cheeks redden, her hand moving self-consciously to her slender waist.
“Indeed,” Dante adds, reaching over to squeeze my hand under the table. The warmth of his touch calms me. “I find Eva perfect just the way she is.”
My cheeks warm and my heart squeezes with gratitude. Despite the tension, I feel an odd sense of belonging as Dante defends me.
Linda, however, decides to stir the pot. She flips her hair, letting out a dismissive, fake laugh. “Oh, that’s all well and good, Isabella, but in this day and age, we all know beauty is about more than childbearing capacities. One must keep up appearances. Everything sags eventually if you’re not careful. And the more you have, the more there is to sag.”
She casts a pointed glance at me, her bright smile full of condescension. My spine stiffens, but before I can respond, Isabella’s voice slices through the air like a steel blade wrapped in velvet.
“Not everyone is desperately spending what little they have trying to outpace Father Time, Linda.” The subtext is clear. Linda withdraws, lips pressing into a thin line.
I watch, fascinated, as Isabella and Linda lock eyes in a silent duel. I gather Linda expected to waltz in here and overshadow everyone, but Isabella is clearly the reigning queen in this domain, and Linda’s show of bravado is falling flat.
Seizing the lull, a staff member begins serving the next course—fresh pasta in a light sauce, the aroma rich and mouthwatering. Silverware clinks softly as everyone settles into an awkward silence, enjoying the delicious pasta.
Luca clears his throat, attempting small talk. “I heard that new rooftop lounge in Midtown is impossible to get into.”
“Oh, please,” Linda interjects smoothly, waving a manicured hand. “That place is already passé. If you want exclusivity, go to The Solace Club.”
Luca’s mouth shuts with a near audible click. Sarah, either enjoying his discomfort or trying to impress her new mother-in-law, jumps in. “Exactly. The crowd at those places matters more than the location itself.”
I sip my wine, amused despite myself. So much for Luca trying to be relevant.
Eventually, attention turns to me. “And what is it you do again, Eva?” Linda asks, eyes gleaming with barely concealed judgment. “Something in computers?”
“Yes,” I answer smoothly, setting my glass down. “Cybersecurity.”
Sarah’s brows lift. “Oh, how modern. You must be very busy, then.”
“I am,” I reply, my expression neutral. “I handle a lot of high-priority cases.”
Linda hums, tilting her head. “Cybersecurity. That’s such a broad term these days, isn’t it? So much behind-the-scenes work. Must be exhausting, all that sitting in front of a screen.”
I know what she’s doing. It’s a sideways jab, a backhanded way of implying I don’t have the kind of lifestyle that would keep me “refined” like she so obviously considers herself.
“Oh, it’s more active than you think,” I say, smiling sweetly. “A good defense is an aggressive one, after all. You’d be surprised how much control I have over the situation from behind a screen.”
Dante chuckles, the sound low and appreciative. “She’s being modest,” he says, draping an arm across the back of my chair. “Eva runs circles around the best in the industry. I’d trust her to keep my empire secure before I’d trust the FBI.”
The flicker of irritation in Linda’s expression is priceless. An awkward smile forms on Sarah’s face as Luca shifts uncomfortably in his chair, stabbing at his pasta a little too hard.
Isabella’s sharp gaze lands on me, and I can’t shake the feeling that she sees straight through every carefully chosen word. But she doesn’t press. She merely observes; a knowing smile curving her lips whenever Linda or Sarah try to back me into a corner.
Eventually, the main course arrives—perfectly seared lamb chops with rosemary potatoes. The tension eases slightly as the focus drifts to the food. Dante takes the opportunity to turn to me and ask, “How was your day?”
A simple, harmless question.
I exhale, the knot of tension in my chest starting to loosen. “Productive,” I say, grateful for the reprieve. “Made good progress on the system updates.”
Linda rolls her eyes. “Dante, you always did have a soft spot for workaholics.”
Dante doesn’t even spare her a glance. “I have a soft spot for competence.”
That gets a small smile from Isabella.
Silence falls over the table once more, and for a brief moment, it feels like we might actually get through the evening without any more hostility.
Then Linda pipes up again. “I swear, maintaining oneself is practically a full-time job these days,” she laments, lifting her glass with a practiced sigh. “The treatments, the personal trainers, the endless effort. And yet some women just give up so easily. It’s a shame, really.”
Her gaze flicks to me for the briefest moment before she takes a slow sip of her wine.
Sarah hums in agreement. “True. Some people just don’t prioritize taking care of themselves. And by the time they realize it, it’s too late.”
I don’t miss the way Luca bites back a grin, eyes darting in my direction before down at his plate.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say lightly. “Some women have more important things to do than spend their entire lives waging war against nature. Especially when they have way more than just looks to offer the world.”
Linda’s expression flickers with irritation, but before she can fire back, Isabella sets her knife down with a deliberate clink.
The tension is a living, breathing thing by the time dessert is served. Luca stares at his plate, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. Sarah pretends not to notice the awkwardness, focusing on her phone whenever she thinks no one’s looking. Linda sips her wine, silent but visibly irritated that she can’t dominate the table.
Once the meal is finished and espressos are served, Isabella folds her linen napkin neatly and places it on the table. She looks at Dante. “Son, would you join me in my study for a moment?” Her tone leaves no room for argument.
Dante’s hand brushes my shoulder briefly as he stands. “Of course.”
My stomach tightens. I feel his absence the moment he steps away. He casts me a warning look that says, don’t let them rattle you. I nod once, letting the silent message pass between us.
In a rustle of expensive fabric, Isabella glides out of the dining room, Dante following in her wake, leaving me at the table with Linda, Luca, and Sarah.
Instantly, the atmosphere shifts. Linda leans back in her chair with a smug look on her face, Sarah fidgets with her glass, and Luca looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Stay poised, Eva, I remind myself. Keep your guard up and don’t let them get to you.
I brace myself, feeling the weight of their stares, knowing I won’t like whatever they are about to say to me. Because something tells me without Dante or Isabella to buffer, I’m about to face the hardest test of all.
