Page 81 of Luca
The drive to his father’s villa is silent except for Paolo's occasional updates. Extra security, Luca had mentioned. I wonder what kind of threats require additional protection at a dinner party.
The villa blazes with light when we arrive, every window glowing against the darkening sky. Expensive cars line the circular drive, and I can hear laughter and conversation spilling from the open terrace doors.
"Remember," Luca murmurs as we walk toward the entrance, "you've been to events like this before. With your father. You know most of these people."
"I remember."
But my heart is racing as we step into the foyer. This is the most dangerous performance I've given yet. We’ll be surrounded by people who knew Sofia before the wedding, who might notice inconsistencies I can't anticipate.
Elena sweeps toward us in a cloud of expensive perfume and genuine affection. "Darling! You both look radiant. Prague obviously agreed with you."
"It was wonderful," I say, accepting her air kisses.
The evening passes in careful navigation through conversations about art, politics, and business deals. I nod at appropriate moments, laugh when expected, and let Luca guide most of the discussions.
But I sense his eyes on me throughout the night. Not just the usual attention a new bride receives, but something more protective.
That's when I spot him.
Dante Mancini.
He’s standing near the bar, impeccably dressed and holding a glass of champagne. When our eyes meet across the room, he smiles. It's the same predatory expression I remember from Milan, but tonight it carries a sharp edge that makes my skin crawl.
"Excuse me," I murmur to the woman I've been speaking with about museum exhibitions. "I need to find the ladies' room."
Before I can escape, Dante appears at my elbow.
"Mrs. Romano. How lovely to see you again." He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. I fight the urge to snatch it back away from him. "You look even more beautiful than you did in Milan."
"Mr. Mancini. What a nice surprise."
"Oh, I made space in my busy schedule to attend tonight. I was hoping for another chance to speak with you." His smile widens. "And your husband, of course. I believe I see him across the room."
He guides me toward Luca with a hand at my elbow that feels more like a trap than courtesy. Luca sees us approaching and something dangerous flickers in his eyes.
"Dante," Luca says evenly. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Elena and I are old friends. She was kind enough to extend an invitation when I mentioned how much I enjoyed meeting your charming wife." Dante's tone is perfectly pleasant, but there's something underneath it that makes me pay closer attention. "I've been thinking about our evening in Milan quite a bit."
"Have you?" Luca's voice is carefully neutral.
"Oh yes. Particularly about the poker game. Your wife has such... interesting skills for someone who claimed to be a beginner."
He’s threatening me.
I smile at him. "Beginner's luck, as you said that night."
"Yes, that's what I thought initially. Then I started wondering about other explanations." Dante sips his champagne, eyes never leaving my face. "I did a little research."
I keep my expression pleasantly confused. "Research? On what?"
"Into your background. Your education. Your family history." Each word is carefully chosen, calculated to unnerve me. "Fascinating what you can discover when you know the right people to ask."
Luca moves closer, and slides his arm around my waist, tugging me tight against his side. "And what did you discover, Dante?"
"Oh, many interesting things. For instance, did you know that the Arcari family has quite a complex history? More complex than most people realize."
"Most families do," Luca says.
