Page 79 of Inheritance

He stepped forward immediately, eager for work that might put him one step closer to being made. He was young, but perceptive—his eyes already following the direction I’d been watching.

“There was a man here,” I said quietly. “I didn’t recognize him. He didn’t look right. He went that way. Go find him.”

“I’m on it,” he said, and jogged after him with too much eagerness and not enough subtlety.

Sophia

“Walk with me,” the Don said.

I turned, caught off guard. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut cleanly through the rest of the room. The couple I’d been speaking with looked politely away, already moving on to their next conversation.

He didn’t wait to see if I’d follow. Just started walking.

I hesitated for half a breath, then followed.

The crowd thinned as we moved. People shifted subtly to give him space—to give us space.

The hum of the room fell behind us. Candles flickered low along the edge of the wall, casting short shadows across the gilded trim. I matched his pace, uncertain where we were going or what he wanted to say to me.

When he finally stopped, it wasn’t far—just at the curve of a hallway tucked behind one of the draped pillars. Still visible to everyone, but out of earshot.

His expression was unreadable.

“You’re doing well tonight,” he said.

I nodded, unsure if that was a compliment or a test. “Thank you.”

“You look like you belong here.”

I smiled weakly. “Trying.”

He studied me. Not unkind, but weighted. Evaluating.

“It’s taken me some time to accept, but I’ll admit—you are good for my son.”

I didn’t know what to say. I looked down at the edge of the pillar by our feet, then back up.

“You love him?” he asked.

I blinked. “I—yes.”

He looked like he had more to say, but after a few heartbeats, he only nodded and turned down the hall, away from the gala.

“Where are you going?” I asked before I could think.

He stopped, gave me an amused yet irritated look. “I say I accept you, and a few seconds later the nagging starts.”

“Sorry.”

“I just wanted a few minutes alone. Rest my legs.”

“I’m surprised. I thought wanting alone time was like… a weakness. Not that I think you’re weak—that’s not what I meant to say. I mean—I want alone time too.”

He let that hang in the air, then looked past me into the sea of people and let out a slow breath.

“Needing time alone is not a sign of weakness. Needing a crowd is.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. But I didn’t want him to walk away—not yet. This felt like a crack in his armor, a chance to get closer with him.