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“Pleasure,” Antonia says. “And how do you know the Venittis?” Her eyes are piercing blue, the color seemingly able to look through me. Whatever she sees she doesn’t like.
“I, uh—”
“She is the future Queen of the Venitti empire,” Nico answers for me. He brings my hand to his lips, kissing me softly.
Oh, God.
Enzo drapes his arm around my shoulders.
“I’m not a Venitti,” I whisper as quietly as I can, so just the guys hear me.
It’s true, I’m not. My name is legally Christina Navoli, and there’s no reason to change it. It’s not like I’m a child.
“For now,” Nico says, his voice low and commanding.
I shiver. The heat from their bodies radiates through their touch. It pools in my stomach, turning my insides upside down at their blatant display of affection.
Our parents could see, I want to scream.
They could literally look over at any moment. Anyone could.
But it doesn’t seem to deter either of them.
“Oh,” she says, not bothering to hide her disdain. “How charitable! I heard that your father married a poor single mother, but I didn’t know that he was going to claim the poor girl as his own. How sweet!”
She turns to me, her eyes icy. “Pass on my congratulations to your mother, darling. It’s clear she has…skills… if she was able to lock down Albert Venitti and convince him to take on a fatherless brat too. But, then again, maybe she’s taught you too.”
I gasp. Did she just… call my mother and I whores? Nico’s face looks stormy.
“Watch yourself,” he growls at her, pushing her off his lap.
My first instinct is to recoil in my chair, and my second instinct is to hide.
But that’s not an option anymore.
So, finding my bravery, I lean into Enzo’s touch and use him as a safety net. With him touching my back, I feel strong enough to make eye contact and not look away.
I might not be a Venitti, but I sure as fuck won’t be made to feel less than them.
“How… charitable.” She gives a tight smile. “Nico, Enzo,” she says, ignoring me completely as she turns to walk away.
I inhale sharply as I watch her walk back to her table.
“It’s okay, Angel, breathe.” Nico’s grip on my hand grounds me to the moment but Enzo’s grip on my thigh threatens to take me away again.
I down the champagne in one gulp, setting the empty glass on the table and gesturing at our parents. “We need to be careful.”
“No. What we need,” Nico says, leaning in, his voice a low rumble against my skin, “is to make this official.”
Is he crazy? How on earth are we going to do that? What does that even mean?
I exhale and give him the side eye. So much for the comfort I had just found.
Nerves coil in my stomach and I suddenly need to be away. I stand abruptly, shaking off Enzo’s hand.
“Where are you going?” He asks.
“Bathroom,” I say, lifting the skirt of my dress and hurrying away.
