The man’s words cut through the gala like broken glass.
“She’ll ruin you, Angelo! She’s trouble and she'll have you wrapped around her finger.”
The room froze. All eyes flicked toward us, waiting for blood.
Angelo didn’t even blink. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, tapped the ash into his glass of whiskey, and turned just enough to glance at the man.
“That's it, you’ve had too much to drink,” he said flatly. “Get him out of here.”
His guards moved instantly, dragging the man by his collar as he cursed and spat. The crowd’s tension broke into forced laughter and mutters, but Angelo’s focus had already shifted. He didn’t bother defending me, didn’t rage or argue. He dismissed it like swatting a fly.
And that was worse.
Because as the man’s voice faded down the hallway, I could
