Chapter 4: The Dinner

Portia’s POV

The heavy silence in the dining room lasted for a few long seconds. Marcelo was the first one to move. He broke the spell with a warm smile and stepped around the table.

"Dante," Marcelo said, his voice smooth and welcoming. "Your wife is stunning. You are a lucky man."

Dante finally set his glass down on the table. His hand was steady, but those icy eyes of his didn't leave my face for a fraction of a second. The intense heat in his gaze lingered for a second before his cold, business mask slid right back into place.

"She is late," Dante said. His voice flat and uncompromising.

"Only by two minutes," I replied smoothly. I walked into the room, my emerald dress rustling softly against my ankles. I took a seat at the table, keeping my posture straight and elegant. "I had to ensure my presentation met your high standards."

Dante’s jaw tightened at my remark, but he didn't call me out in front of his uncle. He sat down, signaling the staff to start serving the food.

"So, Portia," Marcelo began, leaning forward gracefully as the first course was served. "Tell me about your studies. Dante mentioned you have a brilliant mind for numbers, though he rarely praises anyone."

I offered a polite smile, feeling Dante's heavy gaze on the side of my face. "I study corporate finance and forensic accounting. I like looking at things that don't add up and finding the missing pieces."

Marcelo chuckled, raising his wine glass. "A dangerous skill in our world. Most people prefer to keep their missing pieces hidden. Don't you agree, Dante?"

Dante took a slow sip of his scotch, his eyes locked onto mine. "People who look too hard for things that aren't theirs usually get hurt, Uncle. But my wife is still learning the rules of the house."

The underlying threat made the air feel thick, but I didn't let my smile drop. "Rules are easy to follow when everything is transparent, Dante. It's the gray areas that cause trouble."

Marcelo looked between the two of us, a sharp, knowing glint in his eyes. He quickly changed the subject, smoothing over the tension. "Well, you both will need to look perfectly united very soon. The global Mafia Council is keeping a close watch on this marriage. Our public appearance at the upcoming winter charity gala will lock in Dante’s inheritance for good. The family legacy depends entirely on the image you two present."

"We will give them exactly what they want to see," I said softly, looking directly at Dante.

"Let's hope so," Dante murmured, his voice low and rough.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Dante barely spoke. He spent the entire evening watching me. Every time I laughed at one of Marcelo's stories, or whenever I leaned forward to speak, Dante's eyes tracked my movements. The air between us felt charged with a strange, heavy tension that made it hard to breathe. He was trying to read me, but I could feel his gaze dropping to my bare shoulders and my lips whenever he thought I wasn't looking.

Good, I thought to myself. Let him be distracted.

***********

By the time dinner ended, Marcelo stood up to leave, looking pleased. "I am glad we had this chat, Portia. You are exactly what this family needs."

Dante escorted his uncle to the front doors, leaving me waiting in the grand hallway under Marco’s watchful eye. A few minutes later, the heavy front doors closed, and Dante walked back into the hallway alone.

 He stopped right in front of me,"You're playing a dangerous game, Portia," he murmured, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. His eyes burning with a dark, possessive intensity. "You were supposed to be a quiet observer tonight. Instead, you made sure every eye in the room was on you."

"I did exactly what you wanted," I whispered, refusing to back down. My heart was thumping hard against my ribs, not out of fear, but from the sheer, suffocating closeness of him. "I played the perfect wife."

Dante’s gaze dropped to my lips, his breathing turning heavy. He didn't say a word to me at first. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on mine as he spoke over his shoulder.

"Leave us, Marco," Dante commanded. His voice was flat and freezing.

"Yes, Boss," Marco replied instantly, his boots clicking rapidly against the marble as he walked away, leaving the hallway completely deserted.

The moment we were entirely alone, I could feel the thick, suffocating heat. Dante crowded me, using his massive frame to trap me against the wall near the door. 

Slowly, he raised his hand. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of my shoulder, his touch burning like ice and fire all at once.

An electric shock shot straight down my spine. He gripped my shoulder, his thumb smoothing over my collarbone with a slow, heavy pressure that made my breath hitch. I could feel the rigid tension in his body, his pulse racing just as fast as mine. 

He leaned in so close his lips almost brushed my ear, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. "You were late, Portia. You think you can keep me waiting, walk into my dining room looking like this, and think you're the one in control?"

"I was just giving your uncle the perfect performance, Dante," I breathed, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs.

His grip tightened on my shoulder for a split second, his gaze dropping to my mouth, staring at my lips .The tension between us was so thick it was suffocating. His hand slid down my arm, a rough drag of heat, before he reached around my waist pressing his thumb against the electronic lock.

The door clicked open.

"Go back to your room," he commanded, his voice dark and gravelly.

"Goodnight, husband," I whispered. I gave him a slow, teasing smile, turned on my heel, and walked into my wing.

The heavy door shut behind me, locking with a definitive, chilling snap.

I leaned my back against the closed door, my chest rising and falling rapidly. My skin was still tingling where he had touched me, the heavy attraction still humming in my veins. 

Yet, as dangerous as that moment was, it had provided the perfect cover.

Slowly, I uncurled the fingers of my left hand.

Resting in my palm was the sleek, encrypted master keycard. I had slipped it right out of his suit pocket the exact moment his body had crowded against mine.

My lips curved into a sharp, triumphant smile, the perfect plan forming in my mind.