Page 210 of Untamed

I watch him, unblinking...waiting. He doesn’t look at me.

Doesn’t look athereither.

He takes the seat Luciano gestures to, one away from Giana, at the head of the table, and says nothing.

Not even to Enzo. Not even to me.

Dinner begins. Courses come and go. Mineuntouched. Wine is poured. Conversation stretches like a taut string, measured, rehearsed. Giana fills the silence between men’s words with soft laughter and agreeable glances. She leans toward Ares when she speaks. He doesn’t lean back.

I try not to watch him.

But I feel him. Every breath, every shift, every glance I don’t catch still feels like it’s meant for me. He’s too still. Too quiet. And that quiet is worse than rage.

It’s restraint. It’s the storm waiting.

My breath gets caught in my throat when Luciano clinks his glass toward the end of the meal. The silver fork in my hand shakes ever so slightly.

Shit. Here it comes.

He stands.

“Tonight,”he begins, his voice rich and full,“we celebrate not only the enduring strength of old alliances, but the forging of new ones.”

Breathe Jordyn.

Luciano’s smile is sharp and polished as he gestures to Giana.

“The future of our families lies in unity. And so, it is with honour that I share what many of us have long awaited.”

Giana lifts her chin, smiling softly, like a bride in a fairytale.

“It is with great pride I announce the future union of our bloodlines, an engagement between the beautiful Giana Mancini and my son Ares Russo.”

My fingers grip the napkin resting in my lap and I twist it so tight the fabric burns my fingers.

My pulse is thunder in my ears.

The room swims, not from the wine I haven’t touched, but from the way the air has hollowed itself out around me. I can’t breathe. I can’tmove. The words settle into my skin like ash.

A future marriage.

Legacy.

Giana.

Ares.

This can’t be happening.

There’s a roaring in my chest, something frantic and breaking. I stare at the grain of the table, willing myself not to cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front ofher.

She’s glowing across from me, gracious, elegant, untouched. She doesn’t even glance in my direction. She doesn’t need to.

She thinks she’s already won.

I feel a hand take mine under the table. Bianca’s, but I barely register it. My heart splinters into a million pieces. How could he do this to me? How could he sit there, silent, while they hand him over to someone else?

While they eraseme, like I was nothing more than a placeholder, a girl he entertained before duty called.

---