Page 30 of Dario DeLuca

“Of course. Mia darling, let me get between you and your mother,”

“What? Is the wedge you put between us not big enough?” The venom on my lips expels before I have a chance to stop it.

“Mia darling, it’s your special night. Let’s not hash old things.”

“Tuh,” Mom says before putting that gorgeous smile back on her face. It’s safe to assume that things are not happy at home.

“Can’t leave me out of the family photos now, can we?” Dario slips in beside me, his hand a warm presence on my back.

The electric current flowing down my spine to my core is enough to make me shimmy a little. Thankfully, it’s subtle, and no one notices.

“Wow, you two make a sexy couple,” one of the media reps says as the flashbulbs go off.

The elite of Chicago flock to us, offering their congratulations. As Dario and my father discuss the upcoming community center, I take a moment to talk with my mother.

“So, is this what it’s like? Being a politician’s wife?”

“Darling, it’s nothing like this. It’s only become this stressful since your father made this deal. It is just as you remember before last week.” She looks at me, and her hands gently cup my face only as a mother’s can. “How are you doing? He’s not being mean or anything like that, is he?”

“Uh, no. Honestly, I’ve been a bit difficult to deal with. I’m still not on board with this whole arranged…”

My mother presses her finger to my lips. “Rule number one, someone isalwayslistening.”

I glance around and notice a lot of focus surrounding me and Dario. “I see. What are the other rules?”

“Always smile, air your grievances with each other out of the public's ears or eyes, and spa days and shopping sprees are the norm forI’m sorry.”

I think back to the shopping trip we went on the other day. Although he didn’t have a reason to apologize, he was attentive to my needs and wants.

“Mia, baby girl,” my father calls us over for more photo ops with the governor and his wife.

My mother and I rejoin them with smiles plastered on our faces as people approach, offering congratulations.

“Mia, I know we’re here to celebrate your union with Dario, but I’m dying to know to ask you a question. The community center is opening soon, and I know you have been not only vocalbut also alongside your father to turn this passion project into reality. How are you feeling about it coming to fruition?”

“Well, this is something my family and I have wanted for a while. So many disadvantaged youths could be more if they had the right resources available to them. With our center, they will have access to tutors and counselors to help with emotional concerns or just a place to go and be themselves, fostering their unique talents.”

“How’s that going to look when your fiancé, or shall I say husband, becomes an elected official?”

“He’s not my husband yet, but if he thinks I’m going to stop my advocacy work, he’s got another thing coming.”

“You’re a strong pillar in this community in your own right with your work with not only the disadvantaged and youths but also vlogging to get young people more active.”

“And she does it so well, and that’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with her,” Dario interjects.

There he goes, touching me again, placing his hand on the exposed area of my back. My skin melts under his touch, my body reacts to his presence, and my mind wants to erase it all. But I can’t. I’m intrigued. Part of me wants to know what my body is obviously picking up.

"Mia, you look stunning," Mrs. Alba, one of the city’s most wealthy socialites, comments when she makes her way over. She gives me an air kiss on both cheeks and takes my hands.

"I was just telling my fiancé the same thing," Dario responds smoothly.

“Mr. DeLuca. You are running a fine campaign. The revitalization you’re planning for your district would bring value up for the homes and businesses, making for some very happy constituents. You’re doing this without forcing anyone out, but instead, you’re helping them keep what they’ve worked hard for.That is a campaign I can certainly get behind. I see why you two make a beautiful couple.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Alba. That means a lot to me…to us. But this is our engagement party, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to dance with my fiancé. Excuse us," he murmurs, leading me to the dance floor. His touch is a script I follow, each movement a line rehearsed.

I can feel each person’s gaze fall on us as we take center stage. The space between us closes as he draws me into the dance, the world narrowing to the span of our embrace. The warmth of his palm seeps through the silk of my gown, branding my skin with a heat that whispers of a desire we both pretend doesn't exist.

Our bodies move together naturally in a way words can't fully describe. I touch his shoulder, following the edge of his tuxedo up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His intense eyes meet mine, and I am completely drawn in, content to be lost in that moment.

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