Sofia smoothed her dress for the third time in the backseat of the black Mercedes, her fingers trembling slightly over the crimson fabric. The satin hugged her figure in a way that made her feel too exposed, like every sharp gaze in the ballroom would see right through her. Alessandro hadn't said much since she stepped out of her room dressed according to his instructions—something red. He had only given a single nod of approval before offering his arm.
Now, the silence between them was a thick, humming thing.
He finally spoke as they neared the venue. "Don't wander off."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Just smile when needed. You'll be fine."
The ballroom was already humming with activity when they stepped inside—tinkling laughter, clinking glasses, the low hum of orchestral music undercutting sharp conversations in Italian and English. Chandeliers spilled light across marble floors and towering columns. Sofia had never seen so many glittering gowns and custom suits in one place. She felt like a paper doll in a war zone.
Alessandro placed a firm hand on the small of her back and guided her toward a group of older men in tailored suits. He introduced her with a clipped, "My fiancée, Sofia," then stepped into a conversation about property deals and regional elections.
She stood awkwardly beside him, nodding when someone looked her way, trying to remember everything he told her: Smile. Don't speak unless spoken to. Stay close.
When the questions came, they started innocently enough.
"So, how did you two meet?" asked a woman in a diamond-studded dress, her lips red as wine.
Alessandro didn't miss a beat. "Through family connections."
"And the wedding? When's the big day?"
"Not yet decided." He gave nothing away.
A man chuckled, "It's always the quiet ones that get scooped up first. How long have you been together?"
"Long enough," Alessandro said, his jaw stiffening slightly.
Sofia tried to smile. The lie sat like a rock on her tongue. Long enough? They barely knew each other.
Someone asked her directly, "You must be over the moon, darling. He's quite the catch."
Sofia blinked. "Yes, of course. I—um—feel lucky."
Alessandro looked down at her briefly, unreadable.
More guests joined the circle. Sofia's heels started to pinch, and her throat was dry. She murmured something about the bathroom and slipped away before he could object.
---
The bathroom was a palace in itself. Golden sconces, marble counters, soft lighting. Sofia leaned against the sink and took a deep breath. Her reflection stared back at her—flushed cheeks, too-red lips, eyes flickering with anxiety.
She was reaching for a paper towel when a voice behind her cut through the quiet.
"Interesting choice in dress. Makes sense. Red suits a thief."
Sofia turned slowly. A tall, raven-haired woman leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes glittering with malice.
Viola.
Even without knowing her name, Sofia would have guessed. There was something about her—the way she smirked like she owned the world, the faint whiff of expensive perfume and danger.
"I'm sorry?" Sofia said quietly.
Viola pushed off the counter and walked closer. "You heard me. You must be really special to land him. Did you beg your father for a rich husband? Or did you just look helpless enough for him to pick you like a pet?"
Sofia's heart thudded painfully. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, sweet girl," Viola drawled, circling her now, like a cat with a trapped bird. "You think he's yours? He'll get bored. They always do. You're the doll he puts on the shelf to make his family happy. That's all. You won't last."
Sofia wanted to respond, to say something sharp or smart, but her throat had closed. Her nails dug into her palms.
"Better enjoy the spotlight while it lasts," Viola said with a smirk, brushing past her.
Sofia stood frozen, staring at the floor.
A second voice spoke from the doorway. "Wow. That was disgusting."
A girl around Sofia's age stepped inside, blonde curls bouncing and green eyes narrowed. She wore a navy-blue dress and looked like she had wandered into the party from a much more fun one.
"You okay?" the girl asked, walking over.
"I—I think so," Sofia murmured, blinking fast.
"She's just mad she wasn't picked," the girl said, rolling her eyes. "You're Sofia, right? I've heard all about the engagement. I'm Daisy."
"Hi." Sofia hesitated, then added, "Thank you."
Daisy grinned and pulled out her phone. "Let's exchange numbers. In case you need backup next time."
Sofia couldn't help smiling faintly as she typed her number in. Daisy's energy was a breath of fresh air.
"You've got this," Daisy said, touching her arm lightly. "Viola's a bored has-been with a mean streak. You didn't do anything wrong."
Sofia nodded, though her hands still trembled.
---
Back at the table, Alessandro glanced up the moment she returned. His eyes raked over her, assessing.
"You took your time."
"Sorry," she said quickly. "I got a little turned around."
He didn't press, but his frown lingered.
As the evening wore on, Sofia barely registered the conversation around her. Viola's words looped in her head: You won't last. A doll on a shelf. He'll get bored.
Even when Alessandro's hand brushed hers beneath the table, even when he leaned in to murmur something about the investors' obvious greed, all she could think about was how little she truly knew about him—and how much less he probably cared to know about her.
---
Later, when they were alone in the car again, silence stretched between them like a tightrope.
"You did fine," Alessandro said, eyes on the dark road ahead.
"Thanks."
She hesitated, debating whether to tell him what had happened in the bathroom. But what would she say? That she had been humiliated by someone from his past? That she felt small and shaken?
It would only make her look weak. Worse—he might think she was trying to cause drama.
So she said nothing.
Instead, she stared out the window, fingers curled around her phone, the new contact labeled Daisy a small comfort in a night that had left her feeling anything but strong.