Chapter 7

Aurora POV

By the time I step back into the private dining room, I feel more drained than ever.

I slide back into my seat as if nothing happened, as if Dominic Guerrero didn’t just turn my world on its head and create more problems than I came here with. I fele more trapped than ever, a bug trying desperately to escape the web of a spider slowly closing in on me.

Without knowing what Dominic ultimately wants from me, I’m flying blind until I can figure it out.

The rest of the table engages in smooth, easy conversation that I keep my head down for. None of it means anything to me anyway, all of it served as some mask to talk about power plays happening beneath the surface.

I hardly notice Dominic coming in and taking a spot at the other side of the table, instead choosing to focus on the delicate rim of my untouched wine glass.

Camilla on the other hand is beaming while she tries to talk to Dominic a few spots away from her, though he barely acknowledges her at all.

I know his eyes are on me—I can feel them boring into me with such intensity that I nearly cave and look up at him.

But I don’t. I refuse to. Not when he just got done successfully blackmailing me.

Leonardo suddenly clears his throat.

“There will be a banquet in a few days,” he announces. When I look up, his gaze flickers to me. “Aurora, you will be attending with me.”

My fingers curl around the stem of my glass. The cold of the glass helps to ground me, stopping me from reacting.

Unfortunately, it’s not a request. It’s a demand. The first of many I’m sure from my new husband-to-be. Much like his son, this man doesn’t ask for things, he commands and people fall into line accordingly.

Including me.

“Of course.” My father answers for me. “She’d be honored to accompany you. Isn’t that right, Aurora.”

The way he frames it like I have any choice in the matter is almost laughable. It would be if I wasn’t feeling so defeated.

I force my lips into a polite, practiced smile. One I’ve perfected over the years. “Of course.”

But even as I say the words, my stomach twists when a hand settles onto my thigh. Leonardo gives it a firm squeeze.

My fingers tighten around the wine glass, taut enough that I expect it to shatter and slice my palm. Maybe that will be my saving grace tonight—having to go to the hospital to get a few stitches and get me away from this horrible dinner.

Clearly the banquet isn’t about Leonardo needing a companion with him. It’s all about ownership, showing me off like a prize to whoever else is going to be in attendance. I’ll be living proof that, even at his age, he can still claim a young bride like me.

Maybe even spark the rumor of another heir being born.

Just as that thought settles in my chest, my phone vibrates against my thigh. I don’t know why I reach for it so quickly, but when I see Dominic’s name—or rather, the initials I saved him under—my breath hitches.

You don’t need to worry, I’ll be there too.

I hesitate.

The momentary flicker of relief that washes over me is so irrational that I want to slap myself.

Why does his presence reassure me? Is he being nice just to get something else out of me?

I quickly shake off the thought, reminding myself exactly who he is. Dominic Guerrero is a man who blackmailed me the moment he saw an opportunity. He’s the kind of man who holds power over anyone he can, who enjoys reminding them of it.

He is not someone I can trust.

I shove my phone back into my purse.

I keep my focus elsewhere, purposefully away from Dominic’s heated stare as I try to blend into the background again while the conversation from earlier continues between my father and Leonardo.

Well, until someone new arrives.

A man strides in, heading straight for our table, quieting the entire private room immediately.

The moment his sharp gaze lands on me, a slow smirk spreads across his face. He pivots his strides then and heads directly for my side of the table.

Cold dread shoots through me. Oh, god. Not again.

He slides into the chair beside me. “Hello, there. You’re a new face.”

“This is my bride-to-be.” Leonardo says, his hand squeezing my thigh again. “Aurora, this is Theo. The son of my Consigliere.”

Shit.

While I don’t know much about him personally, I have heard how he is arrogant, cruel, the type of man who enjoys making others feel small simply because he can.

Much like Dominic.

“Pleasure,” Theo murmurs, holding out a hand toward me. “I’m sure you’re delighted to be sitting here at this table.”

Every word that slips from his mouth is laced with condescension, each one carefully chosen to remind me of my place—that I’m nothing more than a young, beautiful, and slightly noble prostitute.

Much like what most men like him think of me.

I keep my expression neutral, refusing to shake his hand or give him the reaction he wants, but when his hand shifts beneath the table and touches my thigh, my entire body goes rigid.

What the fuck?

I feel his fingers trace lazy, unwelcome patterns against my skin, not at all caring that my fiance’s hand is resting on my other one. Glancing over to Leonardo, he’s too busy talking to my father to notice. Of course, the one time I need someone to actually give a damn.

Theo’s touch is light, like he’s testing just how much he can get away with in the presence of not only his boss but of my family’s too. He’s testing to see what kind of scene I’ll make, if any, in the future when he tries to pull another stunt like this again.

I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around my purse. Iglance across the table again, catching Dominic’s gaze for the briefest moment.

His expression doesn’t change, but I know he sees it. Or at least, he notices something is off. I shift slightly, shoving my hand into my purse and angling my phone as I quickly type out a message.

Help.

I’ve never been so eager for a psychopath to come to my rescue in my entire life.

I guess he has no reason to help me, no obligation to.

But that doesn’t stop me from hoping nonetheless.

Suddenly, Theo jerks violently beside me, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes back from the table and lets out a strangled, pained grunt. “Ow!”

It takes me a second to register what happened as he pulls his foot into his lap to inspect the very obvious heel print embedding into the surface of his Italian leather loafers.

I almost laugh.

Dominic stepped on him.

I exhale slowly, but the relief is short-lived. Because in Theo’s rush to push back from the table, his knee had somehow knocked against the side of it with just enough force to jolt the wine glass in front of Leonardo.

A deep red wine stain stretches across his chest, coating his very expensive suit in it.

The entire room goes deathly silent.