𝐏𝐎𝐕 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀Dinner was not over yet, and the minutes seemed to drag on. The men talked incessantly—so many topics, business after business. Meanwhile, my mother remained the same: quiet, with calculated movements.And I ate slowly, to avoid giving them any opportunity to ask me questions or make comments.I picked up my glass of juice, took a small sip, and put it back on the table.When I looked up, I noticed that Dom Vittorio was watching me.In the wrong way.Again.He was practically undressing me with his eyes. His gaze lingered for a long time on the horrible neckline of the dress he had chosen."Helena," I heard my name come out of his mouth. I had to control myself not to roll my eyes. "You don't talk much," he commented, swirling the wine in his glass. "I like that. Women who talk too much usually cause problems."My father smiled slightly.I don't think I had ever seen him so pleased. He laughed at everything Dom Vittorio said.I, on the other hand, kept a neutral ex
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