Chapter Five

The Gossip

Lila

“I’m going to freshen up,” I murmured, already needing to escape. The tension between Luca and Vanessa was too much. 

Luca glanced at me, something unreadable in his eyes, but he didn’t stop me. Maybe he knew I was seconds away from breaking. Maybe he didn’t care.

The ladies’ room was tucked down a marble hallway lined with gilded mirrors. My heels clicked across the polished floor as I pushed the door open. Inside, everything was white and gold, as pristine as a museum. Scented candles flickered along the countertop, casting dancing shadows across the sinks.

I stepped into one of the stalls and locked the door behind me.

For a moment, I just stood there, my forehead resting against the cold metal, breathing in shallow little gulps like I was trying to swallow my own panic.

I had survived the cameras. The endless smiles. Vanessa’s cutting little barbs. But the worst part was how effortlessly I’d pretended I belonged there, draped on Luca’s arm like an accessory. A trophy he’d purchased at the expense of my dignity.

The memory of Vanessa’s smile sympathy and scorn tangled together made my stomach twist.

'You must be very brave.' her words echoed in my mind. 

God. I was so tired of pretending bravery was the same thing as survival.

The door creaked open again. I held perfectly still as footsteps clicked across the tiles.

Then another pair joined them. And another.

Voices followed sharp, familiar in that glossy, practiced way women in this world had of destroying each other without ever raising their volume.

“Did you see her dress?” someone said, her voice dripping with condescension. “Like a charity case playing princess.”

A soft, amused laugh. “I heard she was a waitress. Can you imagine? Serving drinks one day, and the next, marrying Luca Deluca?”

My pulse thrummed in my ears. Ofcourse they were all talking about me. 

“Of course,” another voice chimed in. “It’s obvious she trapped him. These girl, they always find a way. A scandal, a baby, something to leverage, I wonder what she has on him”

“She doesn’t look pregnant,” the first woman mused.

“Give it time,” the second replied. “Or maybe she’ll fake it. You know how they are.”

My fingers dug into my palms until I felt the sting of my nails breaking skin.

“She didn’t even look embarrassed,” someone said, sounding genuinely affronted. “Standing there like she belonged. Like she was one of us.”

A brittle laugh. “Oh, she’ll learn. Luca will get bored eventually. He always does.”

Something in my chest twisted so hard it hurt.

Another voice, lower, almost pitying. “You know, part of me feels sorry for her. Imagine thinking he married her for love.”

It was followed by total silence 

Then the door opened again, their laughter fading as they drifted back into the gilded ballroom.

I stood there long after they were gone, breathing in the perfumed air like it was poison.

My heart felt like it was unraveling, stitch by fragile stitch.

They were wrong about so many things.

I hadn’t trapped Luca. I hadn’t tricked him.

I hadn’t begged him to rescue me.

He’d cornered me into this life. He’d used my desperation as a lever until I gave in.

But they were right about one thing.

I didn’t belong here.

My mother’s face flashed through my mind, her tired smile, her hand reaching for mine as she drifted to sleep. That was why I was here. That was the only reason.

I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. I couldn’t cry. Not here. Not where anyone might walk in and see.

I unlocked the stall door and stepped out.

In the mirror, I looked exactly the way I’d looked when I walked in. Perfect makeup. Perfect hair. Perfect lie.

My throat burned as I forced myself to fix a stray curl by my temple, smoothing it back into place. The woman in the mirror looked composed. Beautiful. Unbothered.

She looked nothing like me.

I reached for a paper towel, dabbing at the corners of my eyes. My engagement ring caught the light, so large it looked absurd, like a prop in a play.

That’s all this is, I thought, swallowing down the ache in my chest. A performance.

If I was going to survive this year, I would have to become someone else. Someone who could stand next to Luca Deluca without flinching. Someone who didn’t care if the world thought she was a gold digging waitress with no right to breathe their rarefied air.

I inhaled slowly, willing my heartbeat to settle.

Then the bathroom door opened again, and I flinched before I could stop myself.

But it wasn’t one of them.

It was Luca.

He stopped just inside the doorway, his dark eyes locking on mine. He looked so composed, so frustratingly unaffected.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “This is the ladies’ room.”

“I know.” His gaze dropped to the sink, then back to me. “You’ve been gone too long.”

“Checking to make sure I didn’t run?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he took a slow step closer. “Were you crying?”

“No.”

His jaw tightened. “I heard what they said.”

“I don’t care,” I lied, my voice unsteady.

He studied me for a long moment, and I hated how the silence between us felt thick with things neither of us knew how to name.

“You’ll learn to ignore them,” he said finally.

“And if I can’t?” I whispered.

“Then you pretend,” he said quietly. “Until you can.”

I looked away, because the alternative was looking into those eyes and seeing the man who had ruined my life.

“Come,” he said, offering me his hand. “They’re waiting.”

I stared at his palm for a moment, hating that I didn’t have a choice. Hating that my mother’s life depended on me walking back into that ballroom with my head high.

Slowly, I slipped my hand into his. And he led me back into the gala and straight to the dance floor. 

Sam Smith was playing, his hands immediately went to my waist and it sent chills all over my body as he leaned forward and his masculine scent was all I could inhale.