Page 16 of Devil's Iris

“Where the hell have you been?” Julian asks the moment I step beside him, his eyes scrutinizing my face.

“Sorry, I had some urgent matters to attend to.” My gaze meets Carlo’s, and he immediately looks away. I smirk. “What happened to your nose, Mr. Benini?”

“He fell down the stairs,” Julian answers, his voice flat with disbelief. “Anyways, the person I want you to meet is here.” He signals someone behind me, and I follow his gaze with growing dread.

A young woman separates from a circle of perfectlygroomed socialites and glides towards us. I suppose she could be considered beautiful if traditional beauty is your thing—straight dark hair, pretty face, all the right proportions.

I don’t stare long enough to catalog her individual features. I’m not interested.

“Romero, this is Arianna DeMarco. And I’m not saying this because she’s my daughter, but she’s the most beautiful woman here.”

“Stop it, Dad.” Arianna’s practiced laugh grates against my ears, and my teeth clench. It’s not that her laugh is bad—I just don’t like it. And in any case, she isn’t the most beautiful woman here tonight. That title belongs to someone who wasn’t draped in fine clothes and jewelry.

Arianna extends her perfectly manicured hand towards me, and I shake it politely. “Nice to meet you, Miss DeMarco.”

“Please, call me Ari.”

I nod but don’t reply. I won’t be around her long enough to call her anything.

She exchanges a glance with her father, and he chuckles. “A man of few words, our Romero. But that’s good. Arianna doesn’t speak much either. You two will make a perfect match, don’t you think?”

My tie suddenly feels like a noose around my neck, choking me. I breathe through my nose, resisting the urge to tug at it. Instead, I smile politely. “Miss DeMarco is not for the likes of me, Julian. She deserves better.”

“Nonsense.” Julian waves an authoritative hand. “She deserves you. There’s no man more perfect for my daughter than you. She recently got back from Paris where she studied the arts. Tell him, Ari.”

I sigh internally when Ari launches into what sounds like a rehearsed speech about the Paris College of Arts and its prestigious curriculum. My eyes roam the ballroom as I wonder if Julian would be offended if I suddenly had to leave.

Ten more minutes, I promise myself.Then I’m out of here.

As my gaze bounces through the crowd, something catches my attention from the doorway. The open doorway. I squint, and my chest expands, my heart doing something violent behind my ribcage as I meet familiar stormy gray eyes.

Leni.

She immediately looks away, backing into the hallway and closing the door. But not before I see the pain flicker across her face.

8

LENI

I should have just gone home.

But when I got out through the side door, I realized I had no ride home. No money to order one, either. I’d have to walk. All the way.

So, in a burst of rebellion, I marched right back inside, hoping I’d find Romero still in that hallway. If he was still lingering there, that meant he didn’t want to be in the ballroom, right? Maybe he’d give me a ride.

But he was already gone.

I should have left then. Should have just started the long walk home. But instead, I found myself slipping down the hallway with my head held high, into the elaborate foyer, heading straight for the ballroom. I had no plan, really. Just figured if I could get Romero’s attention, he’d help me.

So, I opened the door just a crack… and then chickened out. The butler stood nearby, and I wasn’t about to risk his wrath on top of everything else.

I should have gone home then.

But I stayed. Crouched there like an idiot, peeking in,searching the sea of designer gowns and tailored suits for one familiar face.

Then I found him.

A gorgeous woman saunters up to him, stretching out her hand. One of the men beside him is clearly making introductions, and Romero flashes her a charming smile as he shakes her hand.