Chapter 6: "To Silence Tongues"

I walk out of the bathroom, ready to give my best ‘wife’ performance just to annoy him, only to stop in the middle of the room as I take in the scene unfolding before everyone.

Salvatore is having a pleasant conversation with Eva, Martina’s friend. I scan the room and notice several eyes on me. My gaze falls on Salvatore, who gives me an arched look while Eva flips her blonde hair back and sips her drink.

I decide to head to the bar for a drink. I sit down at the counter and ask the bartender for a glass, just as a figure positions himself in front of me.

“I finally get to meet the principessa of the Rossettis.” I blink, looking at the man standing opposite me. He is tall, with coffee-colored eyes and dark brown hair, in his thirties. He is wearing a formal suit and holds a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

I clear my throat, shaking off my stupor.

“I apologize, I’m at a disadvantage since I don't know who you are.” The waiter places my drink down, and I nod. “Thank you,” I murmur before returning my attention to the man. “Well?”

He extends his hand.

“Tiziano Ferretti.”

Ferretti.

I look at his hand before taking a sip of my drink.

“Well, I see the new Mrs. Di Sante has heard of our family.” He drops his hand.

I place the glass on the bar and look at him intently.

“Your family’s reputation precedes you, Mr. Ferretti,” I state in a serene tone, and I can hear murmurs rising around us. “You and your family are famous for wanting to dominate the market in Florence at the expense of us, the Rossettis, who are one of the oldest families and have provided jobs for thousands of people.”

He clicks his tongue.

“I thought you were a Di Sante now,” he smiles mockingly. “I mean, it was the best thing you could do to prevent either of your illustrious families from joining us, thus finishing off the other side.” He nods. “I must admit, it was a good move, but at what cost?”

His words don’t surprise me. It’s clear that the Ferrettis didn’t expect the hatred between the families to be set aside just to stop these people from taking over the city.

I adopt a stoic expression.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“It’s obvious that you and Mr. Salvatore don’t get along at all,” he gestures around. “We can all see it.”

“How observant, Ferretti. I didn’t know you were privy to gossip.” Salvatore interrupts in an impassive tone, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing his solid chest against my back.

“You may be the biggest families and dominate this city, but your disputes and grudges will give us the final advantage.” He raises his glass and sips.

“My wife and I know who the enemy is, Ferretti, and don’t worry about us. You should focus on finding land for your projects, since we ended up with the one you wanted.”

I find myself giving the man an amused smile as I watch his expression tighten.

He finishes his drink, sets the glass on the bar, and looks at us, giving me an appreciative glance.

“Until another opportunity, principessa.”

With that, he turns and leaves us alone.

“What an imbecile,” I whisper as he walks away.

“Come with me,” Salvatore says, pulling my hand.

“Now what?” I hiss, not losing my smile for the sake of the others. We cross the room and step out onto a terrace where the cool breeze envelops us. “You can let go of me,” I growl, tugging my hand free. He releases me before cornering me against the balcony railing.

“What were you supposed to be doing with Ferretti?” he snaps, seeing me through narrowed eyes.

“Are you joking? I don’t even know him.”

“Really? Or are you looking for an alliance behind my back?” he challenges.

God, he is a complete beast.

“I’m not…”

“It better not be that, Helena.”

“Don’t you threaten me!” I shriek through clenched teeth, pushing him, trying to make him back away. “He was just saying it’s obvious we’re a joke of a marriage, and it’s true, because we can’t be together without something happening.”

He pierces me with his dark gaze.

“You want people to say good things about us? Fine, we’ll give them something to talk about,” he whispers harshly before his mouth crashes onto mine, taking me by surprise.

It takes me a few seconds to react to his assault, which is far from gentle—it’s a hard, punishing kiss. His hands hold my waist firmly as he bruises my lips, and I gasp at the sensation of blood when he bites my lip and thrusts his tongue inside. Furious at what he’s doing, I bite his tongue, making him recoil as if burned.

“You bitch!” he hisses with palpable hatred. “You almost tore my tongue off.” He growls before spitting to the side.

“You shouldn’t have put it where it didn’t belong,” I reply quickly, gasping.

Even though I feel breathless and my eyes are wide, I manage to give him a smile while he curses under his breath about crazy brats.

He talks about crazy people? Ha! Look who’s talking.

“Don’t kiss me again,” I declare, and he laughs without humor.

“As if I wanted to,” he counters acidly. “I just wanted to silence tongues in that damned room.”

The detestable way he says it and his look of contempt make me even angrier.

“I thought you were satisfied with the situation. I mean, I saw you were quite entertained inside with your little friends.”

“Jealous?”

“Please, to be jealous, I would have to care, and I don't give a flying fuck.”

“The feeling is mutual, believe me,” he narrows his eyes. “Now smile, and let’s go inside before I throw you over the balcony.”

Miserable.

I don't respond. Instead, I walk past him, aware that he is following closely. Inside, all eyes are on us, so I slow my pace for Salvatore to catch up.

To say this is a nest of vipers is an understatement. Paulette and Eva look at me as if they want to kill me, and I avoid scoffing.

Larry and Moe are ready to run the gossip back to Curly.

A waiter approaches, and I take one of the glasses he offers. Salvatore does the same and takes a drink.

“Thirsty, darling?”

“Don’t play with fire, Helena,” he speaks without losing his carefree posture, which is obviously a facade. “You don’t know me, and I won’t be condescending with you.”

“Can’t we just be friendly with each other? I know our families have detested each other for years, but why live like this?”

For a few seconds, he considers my words, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know if you’re naive or stupid.”

I let out a sigh and look away, meeting Antonio’s gaze. He raises his glass to me from his spot, and I give him a friendly smile.

That prompts him to approach, and from Salvatore’s expression, it’s clear he is displeased.

“Wipe that look off your face. It looks like you don’t like my friend.”

“I don’t trust him, which is very different,” he snaps bluntly. “He is loyal to your father, and that’s enough for me not to like him.”

“That means you don’t like me either because I’m my father’s daughter.” Antonio is stopped by a man halfway and they talk, so I decide to try to clear up a doubt. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask. I decide if I answer.”

What an idiot.

Of course, he would say something like that. I straighten up and look around, making sure no one else can hear us.

“This afternoon, before the incident, I heard some workers in the stable say they never thought they’d see a Di Sante and a Rossetti together… they also mentioned a certain Ginevra.” I blurt it out and watch his expression turn contemptuous. “Who is Ginevra?”

His jaw clenches, and he grips his glass tightly.

“Salvatore?”

“Don’t mention her again,” he hisses, and his eyes full of hatred take my breath away. “Don’t say her name in your entire life because you don’t deserve it.” He takes a step forward, and I refuse to back down, although his expression causes me some fear. “Neither you nor any Rossetti deserves her.”

I blink, somewhat stunned by his words.

“I…”

“Shut up. Don’t say anything else, Helena.”

I open my mouth, unwilling to give him the satisfaction, but Antonio arrives at our side, and I give him a fake smile.

“It’s good to see you two as a united front.” He looks around. “That will silence the rumors and ruin the bets.”

I frown.

“The bets?”

“That’s right. Some say you won’t last six months married,” he smiles cynically while Salvatore looks at him like he wants to rip his head off. “Others bet not even a month.”

“And which group are you in, Morelli?” Salvatore questions, maintaining a bored expression.

It’s astonishing how this man can change his facade in the blink of an eye. It’s almost creepy.

“I do the sensible thing,” he finally replies. “I don’t bet unless I know I’m going to win.” He looks at me with a flirtatious smile that I decide to ignore.

“You know I’m going to be your boss on the Inverness hotel construction, right?” Salvatore spits out without a trace of humor. “Now, I suggest you wipe that shit-eating grin off your face and get lost right now.”

“Let me correct you, Di Sante,” Antonio murmurs, holding his gaze. “I work for the Rossettis, and my loyalty is to Helena, a Rossetti.”

“Your sense of honor moves me,” Salvatore scoffs and gives me a quick look before returning his attention to Antonio. “But don’t mistake your role as a mere employee. Tell me, if I ask for your head at tomorrow’s meeting, do you think Mauricio would deny me?”

“Salvatore,” I intervene. “I don’t think this is the time or place for this conversation.”

Antonio’s expression tightens, and I can see it takes everything in him not to fall for Salvatore’s provocation, who is smirking smugly.

It is clear that he doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit, and even though it infuriates me, he’s right: Dad won't risk everything. I’m sure he would delegate Antonio away from the project, even if it were just for Salvatore’s whim.

Antonio takes a step forward, and Salvatore raises an eyebrow. I intervene again.

“Enough. Your pissing contest can wait,” I declare. “I know you don’t like each other and everything that this union implies,” I take a deep breath. “And I’m not just talking about the marriage.” I snap, keeping a relaxed posture. I see Salvatore take on a bored expression.

“It would be best if I withdrew,” Antonio interjects and gives me a wink. “See you tomorrow at the meeting. It will be a pleasure to work with you side-by-side.”

“Vanish,” Salvatore snarls.

“See you tomorrow, Antonio.” I object, and before I realize it, I place a hand on Salvatore’s chest, stopping any further confrontation. We are doing what we shouldn't: drawing attention in a bad way.

Antonio walks away, and when we are finally alone, I look at Salvatore, still keeping my hand on his chest, which I pull away from as if burned when his gaze drops to it.

I swallow hard before taking a step back.

Damn.

“I… I think we should leave. I’m tired,” I stammer. “It’s been a long day.”

He doesn't answer, just nods subtly.

What a miserable night.