Chapter 10

Zara’s POV

The car door opened before I could even change my mind and I just stood there for a brief moment, staring at the black interior like it was a mouth waiting to swallow me whole.

Matteo was already inside, seated comfortably, one arm resting against the door, his perfectly tailored suit suddenly catching my attention.

Tall, broad shoulders, with a sharp jaw and presence that makes people step back without thinking. And for some damn reason, his eyes hold this coldness that seems to make women lose in them, but totally not me though. And his hair, slightly messy. But tonight it looked a lot different.

He didn’t look at me. Didn’t rush me. Didn’t say a word either. That somehow made it worse.

I climbed in anyway, smoothing my dress beneath me as the door shut with finality in the air. The car pulled away almost immediately, tires gliding over gravel like this wasn’t the most inconvenient, infuriating situation of my life.

Moving to Italy, sleeping with a stranger turns Stepbrother. Now being forced to a compulsory family gala.

“Can this day get any worse?” I mumbled to myself.

I crossed my legs sharply and turned toward the window with my arms folded against my chest.

The silence pressed in. I could feel him without looking, his presence heavy, taking up space the way he always did. I hated that it felt that way. Hated that part of me was still too aware of him.

I pulled my phone out of my clutch with more force than necessary.

Me: Mum. I’m actually losing my mind.

The dots appeared.

Mum: What happened now?

I exhaled sharply through my nose.

Me: Matteo!. He’s suddenly everywhere. He decides when I leave. Who drives me. What I wear. I didn’t even know about this gala until today.

I paused, fingers hovering.

Me: He’s starting to run everything happening around me and I don’t know how it even happened.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He was watching the road now, jaw set, expression completely calm. Completely infuriating.

Mum: Ah nice, you have met your brother already. That’s a relief. Right?

The question struck me more deeply than I expected.

Me: Mum!!

The dots disappeared for a long moment.

Mum: Zara, you’re just settling in. You will be fine…

“Seriously Mum?” I grumbled, and then turned off my phone angrily, slipping it back into my clutch just as the car slowed.

Lights flooded the street ahead, whites reflecting off polished stone and glass as we approached the gates. I leaned forward instinctively, my irritation momentarily overtaken by disbelief.

“Oh.”

The building loomed ahead of us, impossibly grand. Tall columns framed the entrance, banners draped elegantly between them, chandeliers glowing through towering windows. A red carpet stretched out like something from a movie, lined with photographers and guests stepping out of sleek black cars.

My stomach twisted at the sight of what was in front of me.

“This is what it looks like?” I asked quietly.

Matteo glanced at me and then surprisingly responded. “Yes.”

“I thought galas were… smaller,” I muttered. A faint curve touched his mouth. “Not this one.”

The car came to a stop. Suddenly, my hands felt clammy. My heart picked up speed, thudding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

I had never done this before. Never worn a gown in public like this. Never walked into a room filled with people who belonged to a world I barely understood. Never been expected to perform.

In less than a minute, the driver opened Matteo’s door. He stepped out smoothly, adjusting his jacket as cameras immediately shifted toward him. Flashes went off in rapid succession.

Then my door opened. The noise hit me first, voices, laughter, camera shutters, the hum of power and wealth wrapped in suits and silk.

I hesitated for a moment and Matteo noticed. He turned back toward me and extended his hand. For a split second, I considered refusing. Then I remembered where I was. I placed my hand in his.

His grip was steady, firm enough to ground me, gentle enough not to draw attention. As I stepped out, the cameras turned toward us.

“Who’s that?”

“She’s stunning.”

“I didn’t know he had a sister.”

Sister.

The word echoed in my head as Matteo guided me onto the carpet. He didn’t let go. Instead, he adjusted our pace, subtly positioning himself slightly ahead of me, like a shield.

My heart raced.

“I’ve never done this,” I whispered to myself. But somehow he heard and then leaned in close.

“So much for a smart mouth huh?” he said mockingly.

I glanced up at him, as I parted my lips to respond but my heel caught slightly on the edge of the carpet, panic flaring instantly and to my greatest shock, Matteo’s hand tightened around mine, steadying me before I could even stumble.

“Careful, I tend to make people stumble a lot,” he said under his breath with an annoying smile.

Anger flared in my chest, but I tightened my fist as I tried to hold back the words on my lips, making sure not to cause a scene.

We walked forward together. People greeted him easily as we passed. Heads nodded. Smiles were exchanged. Respect followed him like a shadow.

“And this must be…?” an unfamiliar voice called out.

“My sister,” Matteo said smoothly, without hesitation.

The lie slid into place as it had always been there. I smiled when expected, nodded politely, my cheeks aching from holding myself together. Every step felt rehearsed, even though it wasn’t.

“Nice to meet you miss—-,”

“Zara,” I cut in with a forced smile.

Inside, the ballroom was breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, light scattering across marble floors filling up the empty spaces of the hall. Music drifted softly through the air, and the room buzzed with conversation and laughter from the guests around.

I suddenly felt very odd being in such a space and Matteo’s hand surprisingly remained in mine as he led me forward.

Eventually, he slowed near the edge of the room, releasing my hand only when we were partially shielded from the crowd.

“Don’t move an inch from here,” he said. “I’ll handle the other guests.”

“I’m not helpless,” I replied coldly.

His eyes met mine. “I know.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten and then without another word, he turned as someone approached him, slipping seamlessly into conversation, leaving me standing there with a glass of wine and a thousand thoughts.

A couple of minutes later I watched him from across the room. The way he commanded attention without effort. The way people leaned in when he spoke. The way the room subtly shifted around him.

That I had to confirm that this was his world. And somehow, tonight, I was standing in it clueless about my situation.

“Arghh!”