The city was not hung up on scandals.
It fed on them.
Cameras had been waiting by the time Giulia emerged from her car--in a line going across the steps of the courthouse like a line of battle. Microphones lifted. Voices sharpened.
“Is the wedding real?”
“Are you pregnant?”
“Is this damage control?”
She didn’t pause.
Didn’t hesitate.
And, even if this were a battlefield, she was already in arms.
Matteo got out next to her and behaved as though he were almost unnatural. Black suit, cold stare, shallow breathing. Untouchable.
Except he wasn’t.
Not today.
With everything hanging in the balance.
And his hand touched the small of her back, not this time possessive, not for the cameras.
Steady.
Grounding.
“Stay close,” he murmured.
I have nothing to save, you see, suggested she.
