CHAPTER 4

I barely had time to process the shock of Dante Moretti kissing me—Luca's fucking uncle—when I heard a familiar voice cut through the haze of my alcohol-addled mind.

"What the hell is this?"

Luca stood a few feet away, his face contorted with rage. Evelyn was clinging to his arm, her expression a perfect mix of shock and poorly disguised delight at the drama unfolding.

I stepped back from Dante, my heart hammering against my ribs. The remnants of his cologne still clung to me, making it hard to think straight. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Dante, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. He straightened his tie—the one I'd just been gripping moments ago—and turned to face his nephew with a cool, almost bored expression.

"Luca," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I didn't realize you were paying attention to your wife tonight. I thought you were too busy with..." His eyes flicked dismissively to Evelyn.

Luca's face reddened, a vein throbbing visibly at his temple. "You're fucking kidding me, right? My own uncle?"

People around us had started to notice, conversations quieting as heads turned in our direction. Great. Just what I needed—to be the center of a public spectacle after signing divorce papers that morning.

"Watch your tone," Dante said, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. "And maybe worry less about who your wife is kissing and more about why she left you this morning."

I felt a strange surge of satisfaction seeing Luca's expression falter. He hadn't expected anyone to know about the divorce. He probably thought I'd be too embarrassed to tell anyone.

"This is none of your business," Luca hissed, stepping closer to Dante. "She's still my wife."

"Ex-wife," I corrected, finding my voice at last. The alcohol in my system made me braver than I should have been. "I signed the papers, remember? Right after you hit me in front of your family."

Several gasps sounded from nearby eavesdroppers. Luca's eyes widened with panic before narrowing into slits.

"You're drunk," he spat. "And making a fool of yourself."

"No, you made a fool of her for years," Dante interjected, placing a protective hand on the small of my back. The touch sent an involuntary shiver up my spine. "And now you're making a fool of yourself."

Evelyn chose that moment to play her part perfectly. "Luca, baby," she whined, tugging at his arm. "Let's go. This is embarrassing." Her eyes, however, were gleaming with excitement as she surveyed the growing audience.

"Listen to your date," Dante suggested calmly. "Before you make an even bigger scene."

Luca stepped forward suddenly, getting right in Dante's face. "You think this is funny? Getting your hands on my leftovers?"

Before I could react to being called "leftovers," Dante moved. It was subtle but threatening—just a slight shift in posture that somehow made him seem taller, more dangerous. His hand never left my back, but I felt the tension in his fingers.

"One more word," Dante said quietly, "and you'll regret it. Not just tonight, but for a very long time."

Something in his tone must have cut through Luca's rage because he hesitated. For a moment, I saw something I'd never witnessed in my ex before—actual fear.

"This isn't over," Luca muttered, backing down. "Vivian, when you're done making a spectacle of yourself, we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. "We're done."

Luca's jaw tightened. He grabbed Evelyn roughly by the arm and started pulling her away. "Let's go."

As they retreated, I heard Evelyn's voice, pitched just loud enough to carry back to us: "I told you she wouldn't come crawling back. She's not as stupid as you think."

I watched them disappear into the crowd, my heart still racing. The entire exchange had lasted maybe two minutes, but it felt like hours.

"Are you alright?" Dante asked, his voice cutting through my thoughts.

I turned to look at him, really look at him for the first time. Blue eyes, sharp jawline, that perfectly tailored suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. He was handsome in a way that was different from Luca—more refined, more controlled, more... dangerous.

"I need to get out of here," I said, suddenly aware of all the eyes still on us.

Dante nodded, his hand still at the small of my back. "Let me take you somewhere quieter."

I should have said no. I should have grabbed a cab and gone back to my hotel room alone. But something—curiosity, rebellion, or maybe just plain recklessness—made me nod.

"Lead the way."