Chapter 2 - The Weight of a Name
His hand was warm, calloused, and unyielding against my waist.
As Giovanni steered me into the center of the polished marble dance floor, the soft chatter of four hundred affluent wedding guests completely evaporated. The string quartet seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a beat before settling into an elegant, melancholic waltz. Every eye in the room followed us, their gazes heavy with shock, reverence, and thinly veiled terror.
"Breathe, Jessica," Giovanni murmured, leaning down slightly. His breath brushed against my ear, carrying the scent of cedarwood, expensive bourbon, and cold night air. "You're holding your breath as if I'm about to drop you."
"I don't know who you are," I whispered, keeping my eyes fixed on the silver silk tie beneath his sharp jaw. "And judging by the fact that the entire room looks like they’ve seen a ghost, I’m not sure I want to know."
"You already know enough," he replied smoothly, effortlessly turning me in a wide arc. Over his broad shoulder, I caught sight of Tyler standing frozen by the champagne fountain. My ex-husband’s glass was suspended halfway to his mouth, his face drained of all color. Beside him, Vanessa was frantically tugging on his sleeve, her venomous smirk completely replaced by wide-eyed panic.
"Tyler looks like he's going to be sick," I muttered, unable to suppress the sudden spike of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
"Tyler Vance is a junior asset manager at an investment firm where my family holds seventy percent of the voting shares," Giovanni said quietly, his amber eyes dropping to meet mine. "He knows that one word from me could terminate his career before sunrise."
My heart hammered frantically against my ribs. "Your family?"
"The Fierro Group. Shipping, logistics, private infrastructure." A ghost of a smile touched his lips, highlighting the jagged scar along his jawline. "Among other private enterprises that polite society prefers not to name out loud."
A chill ran down my spine. The Fierro name wasn't just wealthy; they were untouchable titans with roots that ran deep into both international commerce and the city's dark underbelly. And here I was, a pediatric nurse wearing a clearance-rack dress, wrapped in the arms of their most feared heir.
"Why me?" I asked, looking straight into his gaze. "You could have hired an actress. A model. Someone who belongs in this world."
"Actresses lie for money," Giovanni said, spinning me so close that my chest brushed his tailored lapels. "You stood alone at table twelve, enduring humiliation from people beneath your dignity, yet you refused to lower your head. You don't bow. That is a rare currency."
Before I could process his words, the music swelled, and his hand tightened possessively at the small of my back. He wasn't just dancing with me.
May you like
He was claiming me in front of everyone who had ever treated me like nothing.
***
