Page 94 of Secret Baby for my Off-Limits Fiancé

She’s not happy. She’s not glowing the way someone who just got engaged should be. She looks like she’s drowning.

And fuck, I feel like I’m the one who threw her overboard.

Before I can get to her, Dante steps up beside me, rubbing his jaw with a tired sigh. “Well, that was a shit show.”

Understatement of the year.

“Did she leave?” I ask, my voice still tight with frustration.

Dante nods. “Yeah. Not without making a few threats about how the ‘Marchettis haven’t seen the last of her,’ but at least she’s gone for tonight.”

He exhales sharply, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You good?”

I don’t answer immediately. My eyes flick back to Layla.

Dante follows my gaze, his brows furrowing. “She doesn’t look happy.”

His words land like a gut punch.

I know. I fucking know.

“She looked happy enough,” I mutter, but even I don’t believe the words as I say them.

Dante scoffs. “To everyone else? Maybe. But to me? To you?” He shakes his head. “She looked… off. Almost like she was trying to convince herself she was happy instead of actually feeling it.”

I swallow hard, running a hand down my face. “Yeah,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “She did.”

Dante studies me for a long moment, his sharp gaze dissecting me like he can see right through me. “You don’t look too happy yourself, brother.”

I huff out a humorless laugh. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”

Dante tilts his head slightly, waiting. He knows I need to get something off my chest.

I exhale slowly. “Everything feels wrong.”

The words slip out before I can stop them, but once they’re out, they won’t stop. “From the second I got down on one knee, it was like I was watching myself from the outside. Like I was in a fucking movie playing a role I don’t even know if I want.”

Dante arches a brow. “You sure this wasn’t the plan all along?”

I shake my head. “The plan was simple. Pretend. Act. Get my father off my back so I can take over the business.” My jaw tightens. “But somewhere along the way, things got… messy.”

Dante leans against the porch railing, crossing his arms. “Messy how?”

I drag my hand through my hair, frustration bubbling in my chest. “Because I don’t know what’s real anymore.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “I don’t know if we’re still just playing our parts, or if—”

Dante doesn’t press me, but I know he’s waiting for me to say what I really mean.

I sigh, my shoulders slumping. “What do I do know?”

I swallow hard, my throat tightening. “When I told her I was falling in love with her…” I look Dante in the eye, no longer running from the truth. “I meant it.”

Dante watches me carefully. “Does she know that?”

I clench my jaw. “I don’t know.”

“You never talked about it?”

I laugh bitterly. “We never talk about it. I don’t know if she thinks it was just another line in our act.” I shake my head, my hands balling into fists. “But it wasn’t.”

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