Chapter 43 Sara

Gala night felt unreal. Salvatore had insisted on “the full treatment,” and apparently that meant a spa day, professional hair, professional makeup, and a stylist who kept saying things like “your bone structure is a gift.” By the time they were done with me, I barely recognized the woman in the mirror, elegant, polished, glowing. For once, I didn’t argue, I let myself enjoy it. I smoothed my hands down the emerald dress Marco had chosen and took a steadying breath before stepping out of the bedroom.

Halfway down the stairs, I heard voices drifting up from the foyer. Salvatore’s low, warm tone. Roc’s steady rumble. Marco’s bright, teasing laugh. And Gabe excited, bouncing, talking a mile a minute.

“…but Mama’s dress is green like a princess one! And Uncle Roc said...” I stepped into view, and all four heads turned at once. Gabe’s eyes went huge. “MOM!” He ran to the bottom of the stairs, practically vibrating. “You look like a movie star!”

I laughed, heart swelling. “Thank you, baby.”

Salvatore stepped forward next, and the look on his face… it stopped me cold. Soft. Proud. A little stunned. “You’re beautiful,” he said quietly.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself.” He did in his black tux, crisp lines, hair slicked back just enough to look dangerous in a good way. Roc and Marco stood behind him, both in tailored suits, both pretending not to stare at each other.

Gabe tugged my hand. “Can I take a picture before I go to Uncle’s?”

“Of course.”

We took a few, me and Salvatore, then all four of us, then Gabe insisted on one where he stood between us like he was the one going to the gala. When Uncle Rafael arrived to pick him up, Gabe hugged us both tight. “Have fun,” he said seriously. “But not too much fun.” Roc snorted. Marco choked on a laugh. Salvatore looked like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or panic. We said our goodbyes, and once the door closed behind Gabe and Rafael, the house fell quiet.

A different kind of quiet. The kind that meant the night was officially beginning.

Salvatore offered me his arm. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The four of us stepped outside together. The limo waited at the curb, sleek and black, headlights glowing in the dark.

Roc and Marco slid in first, still pretending they weren’t sitting closer than necessary. Salvatore helped me inside, his hand warm at my back, then settled beside me as the door shut. The city lights blurred past the windows as we drove. My heart thudded with nerves and excitement. Tonight, everything changed. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but I wasn’t afraid. Not with the three of them beside me.

The limo slowed, and the glow of camera flashes spilled through the tinted windows like lightning. My stomach flipped — excitement, nerves, disbelief all tangled together. Salvatore reached for my hand. “Breathe,” he murmured. Easy for him to say. He looked like he was born for this, tux perfect, posture relaxed, confidence radiating off him in waves. Meanwhile, I was trying not to sweat through a dress that probably cost more than my first car.

Roc peeked out the window. “Press is heavy tonight.”

Marco smirked. “Of course it is. Salvatore’s bringing his wife.”

My heart thudded. The door opened, and the sound hit me first, cheers, voices calling names, the rapid‑fire click of cameras. Salvatore stepped out, then turned and offered his hand to me. The moment I took it, everything else faded. He helped me out of the limo like I was something precious, and the crowd reacted instantly, a wave of flashes, murmurs, excitement. Salvatore didn’t flinch. He stood tall beside me, shoulders squared, pride written all over his face. He placed a hand at the small of my back. “Ready?”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I was. We stepped onto the carpet together. Lights exploded around us. People shouted his name...

“Salvatore! Over here!”

"Salvatore who is your date?”

I felt his hand tighten slightly, grounding me. Roc and Marco followed behind us, trying to look casual and failing miserably. Marco was eating up the attention. Roc looked like he wanted to melt into the pavement.

Salvatore leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re doing perfect.”

I lifted my chin, letting the confidence in his voice settle into my bones. For the first time, I understood why people loved this world, the glamour, the spectacle, the feeling of stepping into a story bigger than yourself. But I also understood why it was dangerous. Because every flash, every whisper, every stare meant someone was watching. Still, with Salvatore beside me, his hand steady on my back, I walked forward. Tonight, I wasn’t just surviving this world. I was stepping into it.