Chapter 19 19

• Alessia’s fingers gripped mine under the table, a lifeline in the sea of dark, suffocating eyes that watched us, that watched me. I hated it. Hated the attention, the way everyone seemed to be waiting for me to slip, to show them something broken beneath the surface. But I held my smile, my teeth biting into the skin of my lips as I forced it wider.
• The laughter at the table boomed, like thunder over a storm I couldn’t escape. Macro made jokes that had the men roaring, even Lorrenzo leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. It was the only smile he allowed himself a mask. It didn’t reach his eyes, never did.
• My father stood after, raising his glass, his voice too loud in the quiet of my head. "This is a celebration of great collaboration," he said, the words dripping with false cheer. "The New York Mob and the Chicago Outfit united... It's a beautiful merger, and a wife’s duty is clear: Obey. Please."