Serafina
The orchestra shifted, strings rolling into a waltz heavy with velvet and light. It was the kind of song that pulled people to the floor whether they wanted to move or not. Silk rustled, diamonds winked, whispers sharpened. The marble was a stage, and everyone knew it.
I didn’t need to turn my head. Dom Costa would never let this moment pass.
He appeared through the tide of donors like a man answering a cue, Eva hooked to his arm in red silk loud enough to compete with the music. His grin was wide and hungry, his eyes scanning for the nearest lens. The crowd bent around him, following the heat of his entrance.
Dante’s hand closed over mine beneath the table. One squeeze. Warning, anchor, command.
“He’s coming,” I whispered.
“I know.” His voice was velvet with iron bene
