~Tiara
The evening air felt heavy with anticipation as I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate folds of my deep crimson gown. The dress hugged my curves just right, accentuating my figure in a way that made me feel both elegant and powerful. My hair was swept into a loose updo, with a few tendrils framing my face. Tonight was Cedric’s birthday—Giovanni’s father—and even though his health was failing, he had insisted on having the dinner. “It might be my last,” he had said with a faint smile, his voice tinged with melancholy.
I glanced at the clock. It was already evening, and Giovanni would be waiting. Or maybe not. Giovanni rarely waited for anyone, least of all me.
With a sigh, I grabbed my clutch and opened the door to step out. As if on cue, Giovanni appeared at the
