That night was the Castellano Family's annual gala. Everyone was there. Allied families, business fronts, politicians on the payroll, soldiers in tailored suits who looked almost civilized under the chandeliers. The grand ballroom of the Castellano hotel glittered with lights and champagne glasses.
I wore something simple. Quiet. I wanted no attention. Serafina, on the other hand, walked in wearing a blood-red dress that clung to every curve. All eyes followed her.
I caught Marcello choking a little on his drink when he saw men crowding around her. He smiled like a perfect host, but his jaw ticked. His rage was simmering under the surface.
Guests kept whispering about me, how lucky I was. How Marcello was "so obsessed" with me. Allied bosses toasted to his devotion, calling me the envy of every woman in the room.
When a man offered Serafina a drink, Marcello stepped in, took the glass, and downed it himself. His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Can't risk my friend's sister being taken advantage of," he said smoothly.
Serafina chuckled, tilting her head. "Careful, Marcello. If you keep acting like this, Arianna might get jealous."