Chapter 10 · Blood On Cut Glass

Silvio was already smiling at me from across the room.

Forty floors up. Five families. A hundred candles bouncing off black glass. And my uncle stood dead center with a champagne flute, like he owned the Atlantic howling behind him.

My pulse jumped. The collar logged it. I felt Lucian's hand at the small of my back go still, then press.

"Breathe, wife," he said into my hair. "Smile."

"I am smiling."

"You look like you want to bite someone."

"Give me a minute."

His thumb dragged one slow line down my bare spine. Anyone watching saw a husband being sweet. I felt a threat with its own heartbeat.

Drain duct. East stairwell. Forty-one steps down, rust on the third ladder. Mia's route kept running behind my teeth, and I kept my face soft as milk.

We walked in. Heads turned. Capos in tuxedos, wives in diamonds, every one of them looking at the collar first. Then at me. Then at Lucian, fast, like checking the dog was still leashed.

The dog wasn't leashed. I was.

Silvio kissed both my cheeks. He smelled like cedar and old money.

"Bianca. *Bellissima*. You wear it well.