Page 183 of Forbidden Forget-Me-Not

My stomach flipped and churned while I smiled for the benefit of the crowd. Unable to take it any longer, I glanced out at the million-dollar yachts moored in the marina.

Once the congratulatory clapping died down, we took our seats.

Julian basked in the attention we garnered. His designer black suit, flashy watch, and that flawless white smile were built for an audience.

My father sat beside Arturo. They were very alike in their stoicism. Their calm demeanors didn’t come from peace. It came from the certainty of knowing they were the apex predators in the room.

Julian was speaking with Arturo when Adriano dropped into the seat beside me.

“Sorry, I was detained,” he said, wiping a smudge of lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

“I can see that.”

I picked at my salad, not really hungry despite it looking delicious.

He leaned a little closer.

“Are you jealous,” he asked, lowering his voice to a whisper against my ear.

I paused with my fork mid-air.

“And why would I be jealous?”

Sheer will alone kept me planted in my seat as his hand drifted onto my thigh.

“I’m a lover of all things beautiful, and you, Kaylani, are like an exquisite flower just waiting to be plucked by the right man.”

I brought my fork down, just hard enough to send a clear warning.

Adriano froze. Shock written all over his face. It was obvious he had never been told no. He was about to learn a very valuable lesson.

“This flower has thorns. You seem to have me confused with a common whore who would welcome your uninvited advances. Now, you have exactly three seconds to remember who you’re touching. After that, my silverware will be the least of your problems.”

He gave me a small nod, and I lifted the utensil. Adriano immediately withdrew his hand, rubbing where I had pressed the tines into his skin.

“I have to tell you that was terrifying, and yet, I’m extremely turned on.”

He stood and left before I could change my mind and stab him anyway.

After the first course was cleared, Julian’s brothers circulated among the guests with practiced grace. Each one a distinct kind of threat.

Matteo floated between groups, grinning as he shook hands, and charming enough to convince strangers he was harmless. He made introductions as if he were hosting a charity gala.

Adriano laughed too easily. Too loudly. His eyes lingered on women’s mouths when they spoke, already imagining how to silence them with his dick. He needed an ice pack permanently strapped to him.

But Luca…

Luca didn’t pretend.

He leaned against the bar, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room in slow, controlled sweeps. He spoke only when necessary, barely moving, but his gaze kept returning to me like I was an unaccounted for variable. It was obvious he didn’t like me.

Julian’s arm rested on the back of my chair, forcing me to sit forward in my seat so we didn’t touch. His possessiveness made my skin crawl, but his poise made it look like affection.

The staff moved like ghosts. Plates appeared and vanished. Forks clinked against porcelain as the main course was delivered. A server set down a new bottle of wine near me. The aroma hit immediately. Rich with a hint of oak and a faint bitter edge of fermented grapes.

I didn’t drink, and I barely touched my food.

The night and its purpose had stolen my appetite. I had attended parties like this as a guest, but now I couldn’t help wondering how many of the women I had laughed with were just as miserable as I was on the inside.