Chapter 1 - The Breadcrumb Treaty
The silence beneath the banquet table suddenly felt heavier than the mahogany tabletop itself. Frankie stood there holding the linen drape aside like a stage curtain, his heavy silver ring catching the ambient candlelight from the ballroom. Outside, the chamber orchestra was sawing their way through Vivaldi, but down here on the plush carpeting, the tension was thick enough to carve with a bread knife.
Evelyn froze mid-chew, the half-slice of chicken sandwich hovering near her lips. Her heart banged against her ribs, partly from the mortification of being caught by a bodyguard who looked like he could snap an oak branch with his bare fingers, and partly because Rocco Ventresca was sitting barely three inches away, completely unbothered.
"No more sandwiches, Frankie," Rocco said calmly, wiping his thumb with a cloth napkin before tossing it onto the empty plate. "What's the situation out there?"
"Your mother has intercepted Mrs. Hartwell near the ice sculpture," Frankie reported in a gravelly monotone. "They have reached an alliance. They are currently combining their search radius. Bianca is patrolling the west terrace, and the widower Colby looks like he's about to start checking coat closets."
Evelyn groaned, pressing her forehead against her knees. The burgundy silk of her skirt rustled. "I'm a dead woman. My mother will drag me by my collar into the center of the dance floor and auction me off like salvaged crown molding."
Rocco tilted his head, studying her. The faint light filtered across his jawline, highlighting the shadow of dark stubble and the sharp cut of his cheekbones. "You restore antiques, right? Luca said you spent three weeks rebuilding a 1920s crystal fixture for the governor's mansion."
She blinked at him, caught off guard. "Yes. How do you know that?"
"I pay attention when people talk about craftsmanship," Rocco answered simply. He shifted his broad shoulders, ducking his head slightly to avoid the table frame. "My mother wants me married to Bianca because Bianca's father owns three shipping terminals in Newark. Your mother wants you married to Colby because Colby is safe and quiet and won't make waves at brunch. Neither of them cares what we actually want."
"And what do you want?" Evelyn blurted out before her filter could stop her.
Rocco's gray eyes locked onto hers with sudden intensity. The teasing sarcasm was gone, replaced by something dangerously steady. "Twenty minutes of peace. And maybe someone who doesn't look at me like I'm either an ATM or an assassin."
Before Evelyn could digest that, heavy footsteps stopped right beside the table skirt.
"Rocco?" Margaret Hartwell's shrill voice sliced through the dining room air. "Carmela, dear, I thought I heard someone whispering over by the buffet."
Frankie immediately let the tablecloth drop back into place, plunging the space back into shadow. Evelyn felt her breath hitch. Instinctively, she leaned closer into the gloom, her shoulder brushing Rocco's arm. He didn't pull away. Instead, his large, warm hand found her wrist in the darkness, steadying her trembling fingers with a firm, protective grip.
"They're walking away," Rocco murmured, his breath brushing against her temple.
The heat radiated through her dress. Evelyn had spent years feeling too visible, too awkward, too much of a disappointment in rooms filled with Saratoga's old-money elite. Yet here, squeezed under a folding table in the dark with a man who ran half the state's underworld, she didn't feel flawed at all. She felt seen.
"Frankie," Rocco called softly without letting go of Evelyn's wrist.
The tablecloth lifted an inch. "Yeah, boss?"
"Have the car brought around to the kitchen entrance. Kill the lights on the side driveway." Rocco turned to Evelyn, his gaze piercing through the dimness. "Come with me. I'll get you out of here before your mother finds a priest."
Evelyn's brain shouted every logical reason to say no. He was dangerous. He was her sister's future brother-in-law. He was trouble wrapped in a tailored suit.
She looked at his outstretched hand.
May you like
"If we get caught," Evelyn said, "I'm telling your mother this was all your idea."
Rocco's slow, lethal grin returned. "Deal, Hartwell."
