Thorns And Silk

Chapter 10 — The Gala

Aria's POV

I had never worn black silk before.

The dress clung softly to my skin while Rosa adjusted the final strap carefully behind my shoulder. Golden light spilled across the massive bedroom mirror, illuminating every nervous expression crossing my face.

I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.

The gown was elegant in the kind of way that made people stare without realizing they were doing it. The fabric wrapped around my waist before falling smoothly to the floor, while the low neckline exposed more skin than I was used to.

Too beautiful.

Too noticeable.

Too dangerous.

“You’re frowning at yourself again,” Rosa sighed dramatically from behind me.

“I look like someone else.”

“You look like a Castellano.”

The statement made my heartbeat stumble unexpectedly.

Rosa stepped beside me afterward, her warm hands smoothing invisible wrinkles from the dress.

“You know,” she said softly, “half the city is terrified of tonight.”

I blinked. “Why?”

“Because Dante Castellano is bringing his wife publicly for the first time.”

Oh.

Anxiety twisted immediately inside my stomach.

The gala tonight wasn’t some simple charity event or business dinner.

It was a gathering of Chicago’s most dangerous families.

Mafia leaders.

Politicians.

Men who smiled while planning murders over expensive whiskey.

And somehow—

I was expected to stand beside Dante in front of all of them.

My hands trembled faintly.

Rosa noticed instantly.

“Tesoro.”

I looked up.

Her expression softened with heartbreaking gentleness.

“You don’t have to fear them.”

Easy for her to say.

I swallowed hard. “What if I embarrass him?”

Rosa looked almost offended.

“Impossible.”

Before I could answer, a knock sounded against the bedroom door.

Then Dante entered.

And every thought in my head disappeared completely.

Black suit.

Dark tie.

Silver watch glinting beneath the warm lighting.

Power clung to him naturally, effortlessly, like violence itself had learned how to wear expensive tailoring.

But it was his eyes that stopped my breathing.

Because the moment he saw me—

He froze.

Completely.

Silence filled the room.

Rosa smiled slowly beside me like she’d just witnessed something satisfying.

Dante stared at me for several long seconds without speaking.

Not moving.

Just staring.

Heat crawled slowly across my skin beneath the intensity of it.

Finally Rosa cleared her throat loudly.

“Well,” she announced dramatically, “I’ll leave you two alone before Dante forgets basic human speech entirely.”

She walked out grinning before either of us could respond.

The door shut softly behind her.

Silence again.

My pulse beat unevenly against my ribs.

Dante still hadn’t looked away.

“You look…” He stopped briefly like the words genuinely failed him.

Dangerous pause.

Then quietly—

“Christ.”

My cheeks burned instantly.

“That bad?”

His eyes darkened immediately.

“Don’t say things like that.”

The roughness in his voice made my heartbeat stumble harder.

I looked down nervously while smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from the dress.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?”

Dante crossed the room slowly afterward until he stood directly in front of me.

Too close.

Not enough.

“No,” he said calmly. “It’s exactly enough.”

The air between us suddenly felt too warm.

My breathing turned uneven.

Dante’s gaze traveled slowly across my face before settling on my bare shoulders.

Something possessive flickered behind his eyes.

“You’re cold.”

“I’m okay.”

Lie.

Nerves had turned my entire body tense.

Without another word, Dante removed his suit jacket before placing it carefully around my shoulders.

The fabric still carried traces of his cologne.

Dark.

Warm.

Dangerous.

Comforting.

“You don’t have to do that,” I whispered.

“I know.”

My fingers tightened slightly against the jacket wrapped around me.

The softness of the gesture affected me more than it should have.

Again.

Everything with him affected me too much lately.

Dante tilted his head slightly while studying my face.

“You nervous?”

I laughed softly without humor.

“Terrified.”

Something in his expression softened immediately.

Then quietly—

“Stay beside me tonight.”

I looked up.

“That’s all you have to do.”

The words settled somewhere deep inside my chest.

Stay beside me.

Not perform.

Not impress people.

Just stay.

For some reason, that made breathing easier.

Dante's POV

The moment Aria entered the gala ballroom, the entire room noticed.

Not subtly.

Not politely.

Every conversation slowed.

Every pair of eyes shifted toward us.

And suddenly I understood violence on a deeply personal level.

The black silk dress should have been illegal.

Men stared too long.

Women whispered quietly behind champagne glasses.

Even older Mafia leaders looked momentarily distracted.

Mine.

The thought arrived instantly.

Cold.

Possessive.

Dangerously instinctive.

Aria’s fingers tightened faintly around my arm as we walked through the ballroom together.

Crystal chandeliers illuminated the massive hall while live classical music drifted softly through the air. Expensive perfume mixed with whiskey and cigar smoke beneath the glittering lights.

Chicago’s elite.

Predators dressed in luxury.

I felt Aria tense beside me immediately.

“They’re staring.”

“Yes.”

Her nervous gaze shifted across the room uncertainly.

“What are they saying?”

I looked toward a group of older men whispering near the bar.

“That I’m obsessed with my wife.”

Her breath caught softly.

Interesting reaction.

Marco suddenly appeared beside us carrying two champagne glasses.

“Well,” he announced cheerfully, “you two look emotionally devastating tonight.”

Aria smiled faintly.

Marco handed her a glass before leaning toward me quietly.

“Half the room looks terrified.”

“Good.”

“The other half looks jealous.”

My expression darkened slightly.

Marco immediately raised both hands. “Easy, psycho. Nobody’s touching her.”

Nobody better.

Music swelled softly across the ballroom while guests continued arriving.

Aria stayed close beside me the entire time.

Close enough that her arm brushed mine occasionally.

Small thing.

Dangerous effect.

Several Mafia leaders approached throughout the evening offering polite greetings layered with hidden agendas.

“Castellano.”

“Don Rossi.”

Their eyes always drifted toward Aria afterward.

Curious.

Evaluating.

Some respectful.

Some not.

I hated every second of it.

“You hid your wife from us,” one older Don commented smoothly.

“I don’t share well.”

A few men laughed nervously.

Aria nearly choked on her champagne beside me.

Interesting.

Then suddenly—

A familiar voice cut sharply across the ballroom.

“Well. Look who finally learned how to dress properly.”

Aria froze instantly beside me.

I turned slowly.

Sebastian Voss approached us wearing a smug expression and silver cufflinks worth more than most cars.

Hatred curled coldly beneath my skin immediately.

Aria’s fingers tightened painfully around her glass.

Fear.

The sight of it nearly snapped something violent inside my chest.

Sebastian looked her over slowly.

Disgustingly.

“You clean up nicely, sweetheart.”

My jaw tightened.

Aria lowered her gaze instantly.

Instinct.

Submission.

Trauma.

I stepped slightly closer to her automatically.

Sebastian noticed.

His smile sharpened.

“What?” he mocked lightly. “You afraid I’ll steal her back?”

The ballroom had gone quieter around us now.

People watching.

Waiting.

I spoke calmly.

“Careful.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Still possessive, huh?”

Aria’s breathing turned uneven beside me.

I could feel it.

See it.

And suddenly all I could think about was every bruise she once hid beneath makeup.

Every apology she whispered automatically.

Every nightmare.

Sebastian leaned slightly closer toward her.

“You know,” he said smoothly, “she used to cry much prettier than this.”

Something inside me went completely still.

Cold.

Deadly.

The room blurred briefly around the edges.

Then I smiled.

The expression immediately drained color from Sebastian’s face.

Because men like him understood dangerous smiles better than shouting.

“You should leave,” I said quietly.

He laughed nervously. “Or what?”

I stepped closer.

Close enough that only he could hear the next words.

“I’ll carve your heart out in front of everyone here.”

Silence.

Real silence.

Sebastian swallowed hard.

Good.

For the first time since entering the ballroom, fear appeared in his eyes instead of Aria’s.

Exactly where it belonged.

“You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Possible.”

I tilted my head slightly.

“Now walk away before your family plans your funeral tomorrow morning.”

Sebastian stared at me for several tense seconds.

Then finally stepped backward.

Coward.

He disappeared into the crowd moments later.

Aria remained completely still beside me afterward.

Too still.

I looked down immediately.

Her hands trembled violently around the champagne glass.

“Hey.”

She blinked rapidly like she’d forgotten where she was.

“You okay?”

“I…” Her voice shook softly. “I need air.”

I immediately guided her toward one of the quieter balconies overlooking the city skyline.

The cold night air hit us instantly outside.

Aria breathed shakily while gripping the balcony railing.

“He shouldn’t have said those things,” she whispered.

Rage stirred sharply beneath my skin again.

“He won’t speak to you again.”

Her eyes lifted toward me uncertainly.

“What does that mean?”

Exactly what it sounded like.

But before I could answer—

A loud crack echoed across the ballroom behind us.

Gunshot.

Everything happened instantly afterward.

Screams exploded inside the gala hall.

Glass shattered violently.

Another gunshot rang out.

Sniper.

I grabbed Aria immediately before shoving her down behind the balcony wall.

More bullets tore through the ballroom.

Chaos erupted everywhere.

“Stay down,” I ordered sharply.

Aria’s face had gone pale with terror.

Guards rushed through the hall while guests screamed and scattered desperately for cover.

Another shot fired.

Pain exploded violently through my shoulder.

Hot.

Sharp.

I grunted harshly while staggering slightly backward.

“Dante!”

Aria’s horrified voice barely reached me through the ringing in my ears.

Blood soaked rapidly through my black shirt.

Fuck.

The sniper fired again.

I pulled my gun instantly before firing toward the rooftop across the street where movement flashed briefly.

The figure disappeared.

Coward.

Luca’s voice roared somewhere behind us.

“MOVE THEM OUT!”

Security swarmed the ballroom while Marco appeared near the balcony doors looking furious.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Obviously.”

Aria grabbed my arm suddenly.

Her hands shook violently.

There was blood on her skin now.

My blood.

Fear filled her eyes so completely it nearly hurt to look at.

“Dante…”

I reached for her face instinctively despite the burning pain tearing through my shoulder.

“I’m okay.”

Lie.

But necessary.

Because she looked seconds away from falling apart entirely.

Another scream echoed somewhere inside the ballroom.

Marco fired twice toward the hallway before snarling into his radio.

“Get the cars ready!”

Aria’s fingers tightened desperately around my sleeve.

“You got shot.”

“I noticed.”

Her eyes filled instantly with tears.

Something dangerous twisted painfully inside my chest at the sight.

Not now.

Not here.

I brushed my thumb quickly beneath one tear before it could fall.

“Look at me.”

She obeyed immediately.

Good.

“Breathe.”

Her chest shook unevenly.

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

The same words from the bathroom weeks ago.

Recognition flashed briefly across her expression.

Then slowly—

She inhaled shakily.

Good girl.

Relief flickered briefly through me before dizziness hit hard behind my eyes.

Too much blood.

Marco cursed loudly nearby. “Can we emotionally process this after we leave the murder ballroom?”

I almost laughed.

Almost.

Instead, I pulled Aria protectively against my uninjured side while guards surrounded us.

Then we disappeared into the chaos together.

Aria's POV

The entire car ride home, all I could see was blood.

Dante’s blood.

On my hands.

On his shirt.

On the floor of the ballroom.

Panic clawed violently through my chest while Dante sat beside me in the backseat holding pressure against his wounded shoulder.

His face looked pale beneath the city lights passing outside.

Marco drove like a psychopath while Luca barked orders into his phone from the front seat.

But none of it sounded real.

Only Dante mattered.

Only the blood.

“You’re shaking,” Dante murmured quietly beside me.

I looked at him helplessly.

“You got shot.”

A faint smirk touched his lips despite the situation.

“Still prettier than Marco.”

“Hey!” Marco sounded offended. “I’m very attractive under pressure.”

Nobody answered him.

Dante’s eyes remained fixed on me instead.

Soft somehow despite the pain clearly tearing through him.

“You’re safe,” he said quietly.

The words shattered something inside me instantly.

Because he got shot protecting me.

And somehow—

Somehow—

He was still worrying about whether I felt safe.