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Girlfriend.

The old man lifts his eyebrows and offers his hand with a tilt of his head, amused. “You move quick boy,” the man says. Then he turns to me. “I believe we’ve met, haven’t we?”

I manage to nod, ignoring the tight pinch behind my eyes. My fingers curl into his palm. “It’s an honor, sir.”

He studies me for half a second longer than I’d like, then turns to Vieri with a chuckle. “Come, the families are waiting.”

We enter the heart of the event. Vieri keeps me close—his fingers wrapping just slightly around my arm, as if he senses I might float away if given the chance.

He moves through the crowd with sharp confidence, stopping to exchange words with powerful-looking men, all of them dressed to kill. Literally, maybe. Their faces blur together—sharp jaws, narrow eyes, smiles that don’t touch their mouths.

I smile too. I don’t know who I’m smiling at. I just keep smiling.

Inside my head, I pray.

Madre Celeste, fammi forte. Fammi saggia. Fammi invisibile se devo essere invisibile.

Please, God. Let me make it through this night.

A man appears with a woman who is his opposite in every way—tall, slim, her hair pinned in a knot so severe it pulls her forehead taut.

“Lapo,” Vieri says with a smile that feels alien on his face. “Just the man I was looking for.”

His uncle chuckles. “I’ll leave you to talk, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

The old man walks off, signaling to a man dressed in guard uniform.

Vieri leans down, takes the woman’s hand, and kisses it. “You’re looking stunning tonight,” he says, tone sugar-slick.

Lapo chuckles and starts talking, already full of himself. I tune out his words, because Lapo’s wife is watching me. Closely. Her gaze slides down my frame like I’m a product she doesn’t want.

“Aren’t you a chubby one,” she says lightly. “Vieri, I didn’t know you liked them like this.”

Her words pierce, soft and sharp like a thorn hidden in silk.

Heat creeps up my neck, spreading across my cheeks.

I don’t look at anyone else, but I feel the tension behind me. Enzo’s discomfort is like a breath held in. Riccardo’s poorly suppressed laugh. Vieri’s grip stiffens as he answers.

“Not everyone wants skin and bones, you know.”

The laughter around us is quiet and awkward, as if no one really knows how to respond. I keep my eyes down, the smile frozen on my face like porcelain.

Then the woman’s voice returns. “While the boys talk,” she says with a smooth smile, “let’s get some wine.”

I glance up at Vieri.

He nods and leans in, pressing his lips to my chin.

My body jerks.

“You know how to act,” he murmurs.

His mouth is warm. His breath sends goosebumps down my spine. I can’t move, so I smile the best I can, then turn and follow the woman into the crowd.

We reach the drinks table, and everything changes.

The brightness in her face dissolves. Her lips tighten into a grin that no longer pretends to be friendly.