Page 32 of Dario DeLuca

I step through the lobby, the sound of my heels making their presence known. The car waits, a black beast ready to devour the remnants of the night.

Dario appears just when I reach for the handle and opens the door. As we slide into its leather-clad interior, the barrier between us shifts, tangible in the silence that envelops us.

Rafael pulls away from the hotel and heads toward the mansion. The ring on my finger is a cold reminder, its weight disproportionate to its size—a shackle more than a symbol.

I lean back against the seat, the cool material a balm to the fire threatening to consume me from the inside out. As the city lights blur past, I sit there, lost in thoughts of what might be real and what is merely for show.

THIRTEEN

DARIO

The door closeshard behind us, the night seeping into the condo I use for visits to the city. It’s late, and the city's elite have long since abandoned our engagement party. The last thing either of us wants is to endure the two-hour drive back to my main estate, so I’ve brought her back here for the night instead. We’ll head home tomorrow, but I’ll let her rest for now.

Darkness blankets the room, and the only light shining through the blinds is faint and fleeting, but we can see more with each soft flicker of light. Mia hovers close to me, almost as if afraid to step further inside. I reach to my left, flicking on the lamp before stepping around Mia and tossing my keys onto the tiny table near the door.

“The rooms back there on the left, bathroom on the right. There should be extra toothbrushes under the sink, and there should be fresh pajamas you can sleep in,” I let out, the exhaustion of the day coming out with every word.

In normal circumstances, I’d leave the political life to the politicians. All the mixing and mingling takes a lot out of you, and today, it felt like it was on overdrive. Not only did people want to talk about my engagement to the mayor’s daughter, butthey also questioned me about my campaign. After tonight, I have a newfound respect for people in this line of work.

Some are cut out for it, while others do better pulling the strings from the shadows. But Mia—my fiancée, my obligation—today she shimmered in the light of something genuine, something perilously close to real.

She played her role perfectly, almost as if she was made for this—the wife of a very powerful man—handling the crowd like a pro. I spent half the time contemplating firing Evelyn and letting Mia take over.

It was sexy, and watching her move so in that fucking dress had me dangerously close to pushing every boundary in existence.

“Where are we?” Mia asks, breaking my thoughts.

Glancing at her, I say, “My condo.”

“And you just happened to have extra female pajamas lying around? Is this where you bring your girls?” Mia takes in the room, a hint of what I can easily mistake as jealousy on her face.

“Does that matter to you? Who I bring here?”

“No. I just need to know we’re safe here. I don’t know the type of people you associate yourself with.” She looks back at me, nervousness etched into her posture.

“You’re safe. I already told you that earlier. You can relax now,” I assure her. “We’ll stay here for the night and return to the estate in the morning. And if you must know, the pajamas are yours. I knew it would be late when the party ended, so I made sure to have some of your things brought here.”

“Oh.” Mia nods and then takes a step forward while pointing. “Bathroom on the right.”

“Yes.”

She disappears down the hall, and I head straight for the kitchen, stopping once I reach the cupboard. I remove a tumbler,letting the cabinet close with a soft click, and make my way over to the fridge for a round of ice.

I drop it into the glass, then reach for the decanter of scotch on the counter. The brown liquid splashes into the glass, the sound filling the air. A second later, it’s drowned out by the shower turning on in the distance.

The memory of the evening comes forward. I think about Mia again, how she looked, felt, and even smelled. She was beautiful tonight, and she knew it.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I dig it out while bringing the drink to my lips and downing the contents in one swallow. It’s an email from Evelyn, so I open it without reading the subject line. After pouring another drink, I take it and my phone back into the living room. The sound of the shower running seems louder now that the walls no longer surround me and I am in the open space.

I glance down the hall, hoping to see Mia. It doesn’t matter that she is in the bathroom with the door closed, I look for her anyway. This woman—she’s so damn intriguing. Once I reach the oversized couch, I drop my phone, sit the scotch down on the coffee table, remove my blazer, and drape it neatly over the arm of the sofa.

I lower myself on the plush cushion and pick up my phone to read Evelyn’s email. She’s debriefing me on the night and updating me on all the donations my campaign has received in the last few hours alone. Apparently, she was right. People seeing Mia and me together was what I needed to strengthen my place in this election.

Attached to the email are a bunch of files and photos of the night, one of which is a picture of us dancing. I remember how she felt pressed flush against me, so soft and succulent. I shake the thought away and reach for my drink while going through the details in the emails. I pull up the updated campaign notesshe included, tracing the lines of text, each strategy plotted precisely to uphold Enzo's command.

The files, as endless as my family's ambitions, demand my attention. Yet they go forgotten as soon as I hear the shower turn off, and the scrape of the curtain hooks against the metal rod follows. A few moments later, the door opens, and I hear Mia’s soft footsteps as she hurries over to the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Silence fills the air, and I’m left alone with my thoughts just as the phone buzzes in my hand. I glance down at the alert from the security system app.

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