Dante
The applause still echoed in the marble, long after the orchestra had shifted to something lighter. The gala was winding down—donors collecting coats, politicians shaking hands like deals were written in skin—but the air hadn’t cleared. Every eye that had seen the dance still weighed me. Every whisper still spun like smoke.
Serafina stayed close, her hand brushing mine as we sat again. Her expression was perfect for the room, calm, poised, not a flicker of what she’d said on the floor. But I felt the steel beneath it, the way she held herself a fraction too tight.
Dom lingered at the far end of the hall. He laughed when people spoke to him, grinned for the cameras, leaned when Eva whispered against his shoulder—but he kept glancing back. He wanted me to see it, wanted me to kno
