THE WAY WE WERE BEFORE

LLA'S

marble floor. Mafia families mingle in forced civility, their polite smiles as hollow as the greetings exchanged. T

figure, and I can feel the weight of dozens of eyes turning toward me. I've grown used to it-being watched, assessed, judged. My father always

rivals, and those I wouldn't trust to hold an empty glass, let alone a conversation. A subtle pow

posing, has a drink in hand and a detached, almost bored expression. His sharp suit accentuates his broad shoulders, and even from across the roo

nzo R

g demeanor. His reputation precedes him, casting a shadow so vast it's almost tangible. Beside him, his younger brother Matteo l

immediately. Even with his back partially turned, his stiff posture and commanding aura are unmistaka

ceful nods as I pass. A woman from the Marcello family pauses to make a comment,

to the wallpaper." My words are sugar-coated, but the edge underneath isn't

y shaking hands with Vincenzo. "Ah, Vincen

ep forward with a poised smile, extending my hand. "It's a ple

y and releasing it, his grip impersonal. "I'm sure it is."

gala is breathtaking, don't you think?" I ask, studying him c

sip of his drink. "I

muring under my breath. "Q

iate contrast to Vincenzo's. He offers a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with amusem

e my annoyance. "If I had to guess, I

k. But that's what makes him Vincenzo Romano, I suppose. Always serious, always calcula

f my mouth lifting slightly

the one who gets to enjoy these events while Vincenzo broods in the corner." He leans in slightly, l

and gives me a playful salute. "Duty calls. But don't wor

charming, but my mind drifts back to Vincenzo. He hasn't moved, hasn't

ion even as he ignores me entirely. Deciding then and there, I grit

s bring. Waiters weave through the crowd with trays of champagne, the soft hum

nd rivals alike. Every conversation feels like a chess game, e

o spends ten minutes extolling the virtues of her new villa in Lake Como.

of my vision. I can feel his presence even when I'm not

ick quip about the absurdity of the Marcello family's outfits. His humor is

reparing to leave, I'm exhausted, both physically and emotionally. As I walk toward the exit, I st

n't loo

r at least, that's