Page 464 of Rosetti Family New York
"Package already on its way. Midnight blue. Hair and makeup at four."
"You don't understand, I'm not in New York—"
"In Chicago with Van, I know. Which is why this works perfectly. Van's invited too. Consider it your first official appearance as a couple."
I glance at Van, who's clearly listening despite pretending to focus on scrambled eggs. "Dom—"
"This isn't optional, Carmela. The Torrinos are making moves. We need to show strength." His voice softens slightly. "Sometimes independence means choosing your battles wisely."
The words sting more than they should. This is exactly what I ran from—family obligations disguised as choices, my life arranged around their needs.
But looking at Van's rigid shoulders, I realize Dom's right about one thing. We can't hide forever, pretending the world outside this apartment doesn't exist.
"What kind of gala?" I ask.
"Medical research fundraiser. Van's world, actually. He'll fit right in."
Of course Dom already knows exactly how to frame this. Make it about Van's comfort instead of family duty, like he's doing me a favor.
"Fine," I say, hating how easily I cave. "We'll be there."
"Excellent. Car at seven-thirty. Oh, and Carm? Try to have fun. You might be surprised how good it feels to use the family name as a weapon instead of running from it."
When I hang up, Van turns to face me. "Your brother doesn't leave much to chance."
"Never has." I accept the perfectly prepared eggs. "Are you okay with this? Playing couple in public?"
Something flickers in his expression—too quick for me to read. "Is that what we'll be playing?"
The question sends a shiver through me. "I don't know what we are, Van."
"Neither do I," he admits. "But tonight, you stay close. No wandering off." His voice drops. "Tonight, you're mine."
"Yours?"
"To protect. To keep safe." His fingertips brush my cheek with unexpected gentleness. "To worry about when you explore places you shouldn't."
The expensive gown arrives within the hour—midnight blue silk that flows like water. Dom's perfect orchestration, transforming our awkward morning into something requiring formal partnership.
The dress transforms me from runaway to something more sophisticated—off-shoulder design showing my collarbones, bodice fitted perfectly, skirt falling in elegant lines. Delicate beading catches the light like stars scattered across the midnight sky.
"Carmela?" Van calls. "Car's here in ten minutes."
"Coming," I call, checking my lipstick once more.
Van stops mid-motion with his cufflinks when I emerge. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The age gap has never been more apparent—I look like youthful glamour while he embodies dangerous sophistication.
His tuxedo emphasizes broad shoulders and controlled power. That hair perfectly styled, eyes darker against black fabric.
"You look…" He trails off, jaw working.
"Like a proper princess?" I supply with slight bitterness. I almost say 'mafia princess' but catch myself—if Van doesn't know exactly what my family does, I'd like to keep it that way.
"Like trouble," he says quietly. "The kind that starts wars."
Something shifts at his words. The girl who fled New York would have blushed. But the woman who discovered his hidden room meets his gaze directly.
"Good. I'm tired of being safe."
