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“My, my. Don’t you look ravishing, Mrs. Davacalli?” His chilling voice reaches my ears, and I whip to the side so fast I lose my footing.

His hand darts out, grabbing my elbow to steady me. “Careful now, wouldn’t want you to break something.”

“Giacomo,” I say his name under my breath as if it is a name that should not be uttered. “Let go of me.”

I rip my arm from his hold and step back. I glare at him, wishing my glare could melt him with the heat radiating from my pupils.

“So rude.” He presses a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “No, thank you. A lady of status should know manners.”

I don’t speak. I simply stand there, toe to toe with the monster trying to take down my husband and have me killed.

“You look lovely tonight, cara mia.”

“Fuck off, Giacomo.” I apply as much venom to my words. “I’m sure you’re aware that my husband is here. It’s best you walk away before he comes back.”

“Then he never should’ve left you unattended in the first place.” He places his hands in his pockets. “Sharks lurk around every corner.” His eyes dance over my body in a rather provocative way.

“Walk away,” I murmur, keeping my voice steady.

Giacomo chuckles, the sound low and amused. “Now, now, is that any way to treat your elders? Remind me again, how old are you?”

I scoff. “Go to hell.”

“Can I take you with me?” He’s like a mosquito—persistent and poisonous.

I hold steady. Where the hell Ginny has gone? I know Giacomo won’t try anything with me here, but still, being this close to him sends me over the edge.

The violinists change their tune to a waltz piece, and the dance floor fills with various couples moving to the soft melody.

His eyes gleam with something unreadable. “May I have this dance?”

I shake my head. “Not a chance.”

Giacomo tuts under his breath. “I insist.”

Before I can react, he reaches out, his fingers curling around my wrist—not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough that resistance is useless. He pulls me toward the dance floor, leading me effortlessly into a waltz before I can even protest.

He places my free hand on his shoulder, and I give in and accept the dance. I could easily scream bloody murder, but I am aware of what tonight is for. Matteo and I are meant to be putting up a front of an unshakeable partnership. I need to exude the role of the strong and capable wife.

The room spins slightly as I move with him, my heartbeat thrumming in my ears. Every so often, my eyes dart around the room in search of my husband.

Where are you, Matteo?

“You’re tense,” he observes, his voice smooth. “Relax, Maria. People are watching.”

I grit my teeth. Bastard.

I force my body to move with his, keeping my expression neutral. I won’t give him the satisfaction of rattling me.

The music swells, and Giacomo’s grip tightens slightly as he leans in. “Tell me something,” he muses. “Are you happy, cara?”

I stiffen. “Excuse me?”

“In your marriage,” he clarifies, his lips curling into something dangerously close to mockery. “Is Matteo everything you dreamed he would be?”

I don’t answer.

He tilts his head slightly, his voice dropping into something lower, more cryptic. “You know, it’s quite pathetic—the way he plays the devoted husband now.”