Page 41 of Broken Vows

Vincent's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "The Lucchesi heir? Interesting choice."

"Maya doesn't make social calls. If she's bringing him, she's making a statement." I watch Vincent's profile, noting the way his jaw clenches. "She's testing the waters. Seeing how Russo-Mastroni cooperation plays with other families."

"Smart girl. Dangerous, but smart."

"She's my sister. Of course she's dangerous."

We pull up to the entrance where photographers and security create a controlled chaos of flashing lights and careful choreography. Vincent comes around to open my door—a gesture that looks gentlemanly but positions him between me and any potential threats.

"Remember," he murmurs as we walk up the steps, his hand warm at the small of my back, "we're happy. Engaged. In love."

"Right. In love." The words taste strange in my mouth.

Inside, the gala is in full swing. Classical music mingles with the sound of expensive conversation, and I recognize faces from both legitimate society and the shadowy world we actually inhabit. Vincent guides me through the crowd with practiced ease, introducing me to business associates and politicians who undoubtedly know exactly who we are and what our union represents.

"Melinda Mastroni—doctor, right? What a pleasure," Mayor Davidson says, pumping my hand enthusiastically. "Vincent tells me you're doing incredible work in trauma surgery."

"Thank you, mayor. It's rewarding work." I smile, playing the role of accomplished doctor rather than mobster's daughter.

"And congratulations on your engagement. When's the wedding?"

Vincent's arm tightens around my waist. "We're still planning. Soon, though."

As we move away, I murmur, "Define 'soon.'"

"Soon enough to legitimize the baby. Not so soon it looks forced."

The music shifts to a slower tempo, and couples begin moving toward the dance floor. Vincent extends his hand. "Shall we give them something to photograph?"

I let him lead me onto the floor, acutely aware of how perfectly I fit against him despite the strategic nature of this moment. His hand spans my lower back, fingers splayed possessively, while his other hand engulfs mine. We move together with surprising ease, like we've done this before.

"You're good at this," I observe, letting him guide me through the steps.

"Private school has its advantages." His breath is warm against my ear. "You're not bad yourself."

"Ballet. Eight years." I'm hyperaware of his body against mine, the solid strength of his chest, the way his thumb traces small circles on my back. "Before I decided I wanted to save lives instead of performing."

"Different kind of performance tonight," he says, spinning me expertly.

As we turn, I catch sight of Maya across the room. She's stunning in black silk, her arm linked with a man I recognize immediately—Alessandro Lucchesi. Tall, dark-haired, with the kind of Mediterranean good looks that photograph well and hide a razor-sharp mind. He's watching Vincent and me with calculating interest.

"Your sister's making an entrance," Vincent murmurs, following my gaze.

"Maya always makes an entrance. The question is what she's really doing here."

Alessandro says something to Maya that makes her laugh, but her eyes never leave us. There's something predatory in her smile, the kind that means she's playing chess while everyone else thinks it's checkers.

The song ends, and we separate just enough for appearances. Vincent's hand remains at my back as cameras flash around us—society photographers capturing what they think is a romantic moment between New York's newest power couple.

"Vincent! Melinda!" A voice cuts through the crowd. Alessandro approaches with Maya on his arm, both of them radiating the kind of dangerous charm that makes politicians nervous. "Congratulations on your engagement. Such wonderful news."

"Alessandro." Vincent's voice is cordial but cautious. "I didn't know you were in the city."

"Business brings me here occasionally. And when beautiful Maya invited me to celebrate your happiness, how could I refuse?" His accent adds charm to words that carry weight. "The Lucchesi family is always interested in... new alliances."

Maya's smile sharpens. "Alessandro was just telling me about some mutual interests our families might explore. Trade opportunities."

I feel Vincent's tension increase, though his expression remains pleasant. "Always open to discussing legitimate business ventures."

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