The Announcement

CHAPTER FOUR

The Announcement

Finally, this was it. I stood in front of the high class restaurant where all the high class families of Crimson Bay were dining at this moment. Dante had called them all together for the big announcement. Vittorio and Pa were here.

The restaurant's interior was already filled with Crimson Bay's power players. I recognized faces from every major family: Castellanos, Salvatores, representatives from the Yakamoto group, even a few Petrovs from the Russian Bratva.

And there, near the back of the room, the center of all attention stood Dante.

He was deep in conversation with Luca Moretti, his cousin and owner of the restaurant, but the moment I entered, his gaze found mine.

The room could have caught fire and I wouldn't have noticed.

He excused himself from Luca and crossed the room to meet me, all eyes on the prime heir of Salvatore Conglomerate.

"Isabella." He took my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles that sent electricity up my arm. "You look beautiful tonight."

An arrogant chip of my chin, and, "I always am beautiful."

"Ready for this?" He nodded to the crowd of 70 or so people, who were dining but also watching us. The rivals who supposedly hated each other.

"Ready to announce our fake engagement to fifty of the most dangerous people in the city? Absolutely."

His lips quirked. "That's my girl."

My girl. The words shouldn't have affected me. They did anyway.

"Shall we?" He offered his arm, and I took it, feeling the solid muscle beneath expensive fabric.

As we moved through the room together, murmurs broke out.

"Salvatore," someone called out. Antonio Russo, the man Dante had supposedly threatened at a wedding. "Interesting dinner party. What's the occasion?"

"Patience, Antonio. All will be revealed." Dante's hand moved to my lower back. A clear statement of ownership. I should have objected. But I leaned into him instead.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Vittorio bristle.

Someone moved. When I saw her, I recognized her. Dante's ex-fiancée, the result of a failed arranged marriage.

She walked confidently to us, smiling at Dante like he was her best friend when he jilted her on the altar a year ago. "Dante, darling." Her voice was forcefully sweet. "I didn't know you'd be here tonight."

"Bianca." His tone was polite and cold. "This is my dinner party. Why wouldn't I be here?"

"Of course, how silly of me." She finally acknowledged my presence with a dismissive glance. "And who is this? Another business associate?"

"This is Isabella Castellano." A pause for effect. "My fiancée."

The impact was immediate. Bianca's smile froze. Around us, conversations stopped. Heads turned.

"Your what?"

"Fiancée," I supplied helpfully, leaning into Dante's side. "We got engaged this morning. We're very happy."

"That's impossible." Bianca looked between us, her brows drawn. "You two hate each other. Everyone knows you've been at war for twenty years."

"Love and hate are two sides of the same coin," Dante said smoothly. "And Isabella and I have decided life is too short to waste on rivalry when there are so many more... interesting things to do together."

The implication in his voice made heat crawl up my neck.

"I don't believe you." She placed her hands on his chest. The gesture was intimate. "Dante, we need to talk. Privately."

“No, you cannot,” I blurted before I could stop myself, my voice steeped in jealousy. An emotion I had no right to feel for a man I was only pretending to love.

But the performance required commitment. That's what we'd agreed.

I reached up and removed Bianca's hand from Dante's chest, my grip just tight enough to send a message. "I'm sorry, but my fiancé and I have an announcement to make. Perhaps you two can catch up later. Much later."

Bianca's eyes flashed with anger. "You have no idea what you're getting into, little girl. Dante and I have history. Real history. Not some fake arrangement designed to"

"Enough." Dante snapped. "You have no right to question my choices."

She chuckled in derision. "It's easy to see that this is all a facade. You can't fool no one with your games, Dante."

In reply to her statement. He. Kissed. Me.

It wasn't the brush of lips I'd expected for the show. It was consuming, possessive, a claim that had nothing to do with performance and everything to do with the twenty years of tension that had been building between us.

His hand cupped the back of my neck, angling my head exactly how he wanted it. His other arm banded around my waist, pulling me closer to him. And when his tongue traced my lips, I opened for him without thinking.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. The room had gone absolutely silent.

"Any other questions?" Dante asked Bianca, not looking at her. His eyes were locked on mine, and I saw hunger there that made my knees weak.

Bianca gasped and fled. I should have felt triumphant. Instead, I felt off-balance, like the ground had shifted beneath my feet.

"That was..." I started.

"Convincing?" Dante's thumb stroked my jaw. "Good. Because everyone in this room now believes we're madly in love."

Right. The performance. This was all just for show.

So why did his touch feel so real?

"Ladies and gentlemen." Luca's voice rang out across the restaurant, pulling everyone's attention. "If I could have your attention, please. My cousin has an announcement."

Dante kept one arm around my waist as he turned to address the room.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," Dante began, his voice carrying the authority of a man born to command. "I asked you here to share some news. Isabella Castellano has agreed to be my wife."

The room erupted. Shock rippled through the crowd. The Castellanos and the Romanos started to argue.

"The Castellano and Salvatore families have been rivals for three generations," Dante continued. "But Isabella and I have decided to put an end to the petty competitions. When merged together as a family, we have more interesting conclusions than mutual destruction."

He pulled me closer, and I played my part, looking up at him like he was my savior.

"We'll be hosting an engagement party next week," I added, my voice steady despite my heart beating against my chest. "And we hope you'll all join us in celebrating."

More murmurs, no applause.

"How touching." A voice cut through the mayhem.

Vittorio Romano stood at the corner of the restaurant, flanked by two of his soldiers. His expression was violent.

"Vittorio." Dante boomed with a chuckle. "What a surprise."

"Is it?" He moved across the room and people stepped aside for him. Not out of respect. Out of fear. "I heard rumors of Salvatore's little dinner party and thought I should attend. Imagine my surprise to hear about your engagement. Especially since she is already engaged. To me."

The room went deadly silent.

"That contract was signed under duress," I said, lifting my chin. "My father and I both know it."

"Your father seemed quite willing when we toasted to the alliance." Vittorio's eyes were black. "And you signed your name very prettily, Bella. Your tears even made the ink run a bit. Very romantic."

Dante's body went rigid against mine. "You made her cry?"

"I made her understand her place." Vittorio's smile widened. "As I'll make her understand again, once this ridiculous charade is over. Isabella, sweetheart, we both know you're only doing this to avoid me. But it won't work. Your father has already accepted my suit, the contracts are signed, and in two weeks, you'll be mine."

"She'll be dead before she's yours." The chuckle was replaced by rage. "That contract is void. Isabella is engaged to me. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with me directly."

"Oh, I intend to." Vittorio's hand moved to his jacket, and I saw Dante's soldiers shift subtly, hands moving toward their weapons. "But first, I thought I should give Isabella a gift. An engagement present, if you will."

He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and turned it toward us.

The blood drained from my face.

It was footage from my father's study. Me, walking into the room. Vittorio's gun. My father's fear. The contract. Everything.

But it wasn't the violence that made blood drain from my head. It was the timestamp. The footage continued past when I'd left, and with horror I watched my father and Vittorio toasting. He was laughing and perfectly calm. The gun to his head was staged. An act to manipulate me.

"This is quite the scandal, don't you think?" Vittorio's voice was sweet. "The great Marco Castellano staging his own daughter's terror to force her into an arranged marriage. I wonder what the other families would think if this footage was released. How much respect would he lose? How many allies would question his stability?"

"You bastard," I whispered.

"I prefer businessman." He pocketed the phone. "Here's my counteroffer, Isabella. You break off this fake engagement with Salvatore, and we all know it's fake, darling, you're far too smart to actually love this arrogant stronzo, then marry me as planned. In exchange, this footage never sees the light of day. Your father's reputation remains intact. Everyone wins."

"Except Isabella," Dante growled.

"She'll learn to enjoy our marriage, eventually." Vittorio's gaze raked over me in a slimy way that made me recoil. "The first year might be... difficult. But I'm told I'm very persuasive."

I was going to be sick. The room spun, the walls closing in, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think

Dante's hand found mine, squeezing gently. When I looked up at him, his expression was calm, controlled, but his eyes blazed with fury.

"We're leaving," he said quietly. Just to me. "Now."

"But the footage"

"Let me handle it." He turned back to Vittorio, and his smile was pure evil. "You want to play games, Romano? Fine. But you just made a critical error."

He scoffed, egoistic bastard. "I never make errors, Dante."

"You threatened what's mine." Dante's voice sent ripples of tension through the restaurant. "And I don't share."