Page 51 of Shattered Engagement

I risk a glance toward Stefano and immediately wish I hadn’t. The rage burning in his eyes is barely contained, his hand hovering near where I know he keeps his gun. For a terrifying moment, I fear he’ll blow his cover, rush across the room, and put a bullet through Luca’s skull right here in front of New York’s elite.

Our eyes lock, and I give an imperceptible shake of my head. Not now. Not yet. Tomorrow.

The dinner continues, course after excruciating course. Luca keeps his hand possessively on my knee, occasionally sliding it higher in a silent threat. I endure it all with practiced grace, counting the minutes until I can escape.

“I need to use the ladies’ room,” I whisper to my mother after the dessert plates are cleared.

She nods, but Luca interjects. “Don’t be long,cara.Your public awaits.”

I weave through tables of well-wishers, accepting congratulations with a smile that never reaches my eyes. As I pass the exit, I deliberately drop my clutch near Stefano’s feet.

“Mr. Gravano,” I say, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “Would you mind bringing that to the powder room for me? I may need my lipstick.”

“Of course, Miss De Angelis.” His voice betrays nothing of the electricity crackling between us.

In the hallway outside the ballroom, away from prying eyes, I slow my pace just enough for him to catch up. “My room was searched today,” I murmur without turning around. “Someone’s suspicious.”

His step doesn’t falter. “Meet me after the party winds down in the east parking lot. My car.”

I continue to the powder room, my heart pounding with adrenaline. Every second we’re together is a risk, but I need to see him, I need to feel his touch one more time before tomorrow changes everything.

After touching up my makeup—a performance for the security cameras—I go back to the party and force myself to act normal.

As soon as the last guest says their goodbye, I yawn and declare myself tired and ready to retire for the night.

Immediately I walk into my room, I change into something simpler and put on a black jacket with a hoodie. I take the service corridor to the east exit, slipping past kitchen staff too busy with the after-dinner to notice me. The night air hits me, raising goosebumps along my skin. Or perhaps it’s anticipation that makes me shiver.

Stefano’s black Audi is parked in the shadows, away from most people’s line of vision. I slide into the passenger seat, immediately enveloped in his scent—sandalwood and something darker, uniquely him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes scanning my face for signs of distress.

“Luca knows something,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper though we’re alone. “That display in there—he’s trying to provoke a reaction.”

“I nearly gave him one.” Stefano’s jaw tightens, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “When he put his hands on you like that, I almost—”

“I know.” I reach for him, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “But we can’t afford mistakes. Not now. Tomorrow—”

“The timeline’s too compressed,” he interrupts, covering my hand with his. “After the shipment was hit, they moved everything up. My men aren’t all in position. It’s too risky.”

Fear coils in my stomach. “What are you saying?”

His eyes meet mine, amber depths reflecting the same turmoil I feel. “I’m saying we have another option. We leave. Tonight.”

“Leave?” The word feels foreign on my tongue. “Just... walk away from everything?”

“I have money,” he says, his voice urgent. “Offshore accounts, properties in Europe, identities ready. We could disappear before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

The offer hangs between us—tantalizing, terrifying. Freedom. A life away from family obligations, away from the blood and violence that have defined us both.

“What about your revenge?” I ask, searching his face. “Twenty years of planning—you’d just abandon it?”

His hand slides to the nape of my neck, drawing me closer until our foreheads touch. “I never planned for you, Isadora. Never imagined wanting something more than vengeance.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “But I do. I want you more than I want Giancarlo’s blood.”

The confession steals my breath. This man who has lived for revenge now offers to give it all up—for me.

“My family would never forgive me,” I whisper, the truth of it burning my throat. “If I run away, if I abandon this wedding, my father would hunt us to the ends of the earth.”

“Let him try.” The dangerous edge in Stefano’s voice reminds me of the lethal weapon he’s become. “I’ve spent twenty years as a ghost. I can keep us both safe.”

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