“What is this benefit about?” she asked, leaning close to whisper to her husband.
Giovanni squeezed her arm tighter to his side. “To anyone looking in, it’s a charity for abused women tonight, but this is where a whole lot of business deals are being made.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” she asked.
Most of the men had women at home with bruised bodies, if not a broken bone or two.
“Don’t judge, Valentina. You know the way the world works, especially our world. It’s full of hypocrisy. All that matters is business deals. Rubbing shoulders with politicians and board members. That is all that matters.”
She glanced up at her husband. “And what are you?”
“I’m the muscle. I’m here to terrify them.” He offered her a smile, but it didn’t in any way comfort her. She didn’t know how she could ever feel comfort again.
Of course she knew their world worked in different ways. Stepping from legal to illegal within a blink of an eye. She was often kept away from all of this, but seeing the mistresses on the men’s arms, it was … sickening. They looked happy. None of them cared that they were homewreckers.
“I don’t like this,” she said.
Giovanni curled his arm around her waist, and seeing as her ink was completely healed, there was no pain when he touched her. He found a small, secluded alcove and pressed her against the wall.
“You don’t need to like this, but I have a job to do tonight, and there is no one else I wanted on my arm.”
“I don’t belong here.”
“As my wife, you belong at my side. These women, none of them are wives, Valentina. None of them are ever going to know real security.”
She couldn’t help but snort. “Security. This is a benefit for abused wives. My own mother is at home right now sporting a black eye.” She had seen it on her last visit.
Giovanni slammed his lips down on hers, and she cupped his face, loving the kiss so damn much. She wished they were home, not here at this spectacle.
“I know, baby, but tonight, we have to play the roles we’re dealt. I will never pass you over for a mistress. I have no intention of ever getting one.”
He’d told her this multiple times in the past few days. Valentina was almost afraid to ask what he truly meant by that. Was this his declaration of … love? Of fidelity? In their world, that didn’t happen. Their match wasn’t based on love. She was a reward to him, a trophy.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Not once in all her twenty-one years had she ever heard her father ask her mother that question. “Yes.”
“I need you by my side, Valentina. We have to show a united front. Those men out there need to know that you’re not some delicate flower that can easily be shoved to one side. You’re so much better than that.” He cupped her face. “Please, for tonight.”
She’d never been begged before, or asked, or pleaded. Staring at Giovanni, she had a feeling if she demanded he take her home, he’d do it, but then what would that show these men? Would they believe him to be weak? She had no doubt it would. The men always judged in the moment, rather than an entire lifetime of actually doing stuff for Thomas Rossi.
Valentina slid her hand down his arm and then captured his hand. “I’m ready.”
Giovanni was already breaking so many rules in bringing her here. The least she could do was play the part of being his submissive, willing wife.
He’d already given her so much. In the past couple of months of being married to him, she no longer felt like a damaged, insignificant person. That was how people treated her. Especially her father. He’d been so disappointed in her kidnapping. He didn’t care that she’d been hurt, and he didn’t care about the nightmares that had plagued her. All he could think about was what an inconvenience she was since he couldn’t get rid of her.
Valentina refused to think about it. She pushed those memories right down deep, where they didn’t deserve to surface, not even for a second.
Stepping out from the alcove, Giovanni threaded her hand through his arm, keeping their hands locked together as they made their way through the mockery of a benefit. At least something good would come of this.
Several of the men stopped and stared at them. A waiter offered them champagne, and Giovanni grabbed two glasses, letting her go to grab them both and then offer her one. She’d never been much of a champagne, wine, or any kind of alcohol drinker, but with the stares they were getting, she intended to make an exception.
“They’re staring, Giovanni,” she said, leaning in close to him.
“They want you.” He placed a hand around her hip, drawing her close. “Not that I could blame them. Of course they would want you.”
“Giovanni, as always it is so good of you to come.”