"l'm sorry, ma'am, but you're not on the list. It doesn't matter whether you're Mr. Russo's mother, sister, or fiancée..." The hostess raised a brow at my bare ring finger. "I can't let you in without an invitation."My smile didn't falter. "If you call Dante, he'll confirm my identity," I said, even though I wasn't sure he would. I'd deal with that bridge when we got there. "This is simply an oversight."I'd gone home as planned after happy hour and lasted a total of twenty minutes before I caved to Isabella and Sloane's suggestion.They were right. I couldn't sit around waiting for Dante when my move-in date loomed so close. I had to suck it up and see him, no matter how much he annoyed or unnerved me.Of course, in order to see him, I had to get into the party. The hostess's face reddened. "I assure you, there was no oversight. We are meticulous in–""Vivian, there you are."An aristocratic British accent cut smoothly through our standoff. I turned, surprise coasting through me whe
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