THE TEST
756 Words
Sofia’s POV
I felt him before he spoke.
Not Alessio.
Romano.
There’s a certain kind of attention that crawls across your skin—measured, patient, invasive without touching. I kept my expression serene as I finished my sentence with one of the donnas, nodding politely at something about trade routes and charity fronts.
Then—
“Mrs. DeLuca.”
His voice was smooth. Amused.
I turned slowly.
Romano stood too close for coincidence, but not close enough to cause a scene. Calculated. Always calculated.
“Don Romano,” I replied evenly. “Enjoying the evening?”
His eyes flicked briefly toward Alessio across the room before returning to me.
“Immensely,” he said. “Though I find myself more interested in observing than participating tonight.”
“I’m sure you always are.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. He liked that answer.
“You’ve changed,” he said quietly.
There it was.
Not flirtation. Not insult.
Assessment.
“I imagine marriage changes many things,” I replied.
“For some,” he agreed. “But not usually like this.”
His gaze sharpened.
He was studying my distance. My composure. The invisible space between Alessio and me.
Testing for cracks.
Across the ballroom, I felt Alessio’s attention shift.
He hadn’t moved.
He hadn’t intervened.
But he was watching.
Romano leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice just enough to imply intimacy without creating spectacle.
“You don’t look like a woman newly claimed,” he murmured.
The air thickened.
I held his gaze. Calm. Unblinking.
“And you don’t look like a man who should be commenting on another don’s wife.”
A pause.
A flicker of approval in his eyes.
Good.
Let him see that I was not fragile.
Let him misinterpret my calm as indifference rather than discipline.
Romano’s lips curved slowly. “Forgive me. I forget that some arrangements require… adjustment.”
Arrangement.
The word was deliberate.
A blade wrapped in silk.
I let the silence stretch between us, then lifted my glass and took a slow sip.
“If you have something to say, Don Romano,” I said softly, “say it clearly.”
His gaze darkened.
“You don’t look unhappy,” he said. “You look… detached.”
There it was again.
He was trying to determine whether I was loyal—or vulnerable.
Across the room, Alessio finally moved.
Not rushed.
Not threatened.
Just inevitable.
He approached like a man who owned the floor beneath our feet.
Romano noticed first.
Of course he did.
Alessio stopped beside me, not touching, not claiming. Just standing close enough to reestablish gravity.
“Romano,” he said evenly.
“DeLuca.”
Silence.
Measured.
Deadly.
Romano gestured casually toward me. “Your wife and I were discussing change.”
Alessio’s expression didn’t shift. “My wife adapts well.”
His tone was calm.
Too calm.
I felt it—the subtle tension beneath his stillness. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t jealous.
He was calculating.
Romano tilted his head slightly. “Adaptation can sometimes look like resignation.”
And there it was.
The provocation.
A suggestion that I might not be content.
A suggestion that Alessio’s control wasn’t absolute.
Alessio’s gaze turned to me then.
Not questioning.
Not demanding.
Assessing.
Waiting to see what I would do.
I placed my glass down deliberately.
“I assure you,” I said smoothly, “I do nothing unwillingly.”
The words were layered.
Romano heard the challenge.
Alessio heard the restraint.
Romano’s smile returned, thinner now. “Of course.”
He stepped back first.
That was important.
He conceded the moment—but not the game.
As he walked away, I felt Alessio’s presence beside me, steady and silent.
“You handled that well,” he said quietly.
I didn’t look at him.
“I wasn’t aware I needed handling.”
A subtle pause.
The faintest tightening of his jaw.
“There are men who mistake composure for weakness,” he said.
“And there are men,” I replied, “who mistake silence for surrender.”
That one landed.
He turned slightly toward me now.
“You are neither weak nor surrendered,” he said.
It wasn’t comfort.
It was acknowledgment.
But he still didn’t understand.
He thought this was strategy.
He didn’t yet realize—
My distance wasn’t rebellion.
It was protection.
And if Romano believed there was a fracture between us, he would try again.
More boldly next time.
The game had officially begun.
And I intended to win it.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD