Chapter 2 - The Stolen Glass of Wine
The tension in the Grand Marquee Ballroom didn't dissipate with Tyler's departure; it merely evolved into something thicker and far more dangerous. The whispers around the room spread like wildfire among the white-clothed tables. The bride's neglected sister—the single mom everyone treated like a charity case—was sitting beside a man whose name made even the wealthiest developers in Chicago lower their voices.
Jessica took a slow sip of ice water, trying to ground herself. ""You didn't have to threaten him, Giovanni. He's an arrogant coward, but he has connections through his father's law firm. He talks too much.""
Giovanni leaned back, crossing one long leg over the other. His cuff links caught the chandelier light—heavy platinum engraved with a crest Jessica didn't recognize. ""Men like Tyler Mitchell only understand power, Jessica. If you show them mercy, they mistake it for weakness. If you ignore them, they mistake it for fear. The only language a coward respects is absolute authority.""
Before Jessica could respond, a shadow fell across their table once more. This time, it wasn't Tyler.
Vanessa stood there, draped in emerald green silk that hugged her heavily pregnant frame. Her blonde hair was pinned in an elaborate updo, dripping with diamonds that Tyler had bought with his trust fund. Vanessa had been Jessica's favorite cousin growing up, the one who shared secret late-night phone calls and borrowed sweaters—until the week Jessica's life fell apart, and Vanessa suddenly appeared on Tyler's arm at Christmas dinner.
""Jessica, honey,"" Vanessa purred, holding a glass of sparkling cider. Her eyes swept over Jessica's thrifted navy dress with poorly disguised amusement before landing squarely on Giovanni. Her gaze lingered on his broad chest, the cut of his jaw, and the unmistakable air of old money and raw danger radiating from him. ""Aren't you going to introduce us? The whole family is simply dying of curiosity.""
Jessica felt her stomach turn to lead. She knew Vanessa’s game. Vanessa didn't just want what Jessica had; she wanted to ensure Jessica had nothing at all.
""Vanessa, this is Giovanni Fioraldi,"" Jessica said evenly, keeping her voice devoid of emotion. ""Giovanni, my cousin, Vanessa.""
Giovanni didn't stand up. He didn't offer his hand. He merely tilted his chin by a millimeter, his eyes colder than Chicago winter slush. ""Signora Mitchell.""
Vanessa’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second at his dismissive greeting, but her predatory socialite instincts kicked in immediately. She pulled over an empty chair from table 11 and seated herself uninvited, leaning forward so her diamond necklace sparkled beneath the lights.
""We were just so stunned to see Jessica with someone,"" Vanessa laughed, touching her pearl earrings with manicured nails. ""You know how she is. She works those awful night shifts at the public hospital, never dates, never goes out. Honestly, Tyler and I were worried she was becoming a recluse. It must be so exhausting raising a child all alone on a nurse's salary. Tyler and I have already hired two full-time European nannies for our little prince on the way. I simply cannot fathom changing diapers by myself.""
It was a deliberate, poison-tipped arrow aimed straight at Lily. Jessica felt the familiar heat of rage burning behind her eyes, but before she could speak, Giovanni spoke first.
""A nurse's salary is earned with honor and steady hands, Signora Mitchell,"" Giovanni said, his voice quiet yet carrying an edge sharp enough to split bone. ""Saving dying children requires character. Walking through life spending an inheritance you did nothing to build requires nothing more than breathing.""
Vanessa blinked, her pale skin turning mottled pink. ""I beg your pardon?""
""Jessica does not need two nannies to prove her devotion as a mother,"" Giovanni continued smoothly, swirling the dark red wine in his crystal glass. ""And she certainly does not need to justify her life to a woman who built her marriage upon the wreckage of another's betrayal. In Italy, we have a very colorful word for women who take their family members' castoffs. But out of respect for the bride, I will refrain from translating it.""
Vanessa gasped aloud, her hand flying to her chest. Several guests at the neighboring table turned their heads, their eyes wide with shock. No one in their polished suburban circle ever spoke with such raw, brutal honesty.
""You are shockingly rude!"" Vanessa hissed, her voice shaking with outrage. ""Tyler was right about you. You're nothing but a thug in a rented tuxedo!""
""Think whatever comforts your conscience, signora,"" Giovanni replied coolly, finally fixing her with a gaze so lethal and unblinking that Vanessa visibly recoiled into her seat. ""Now, stand up and walk away from our table. Jessica came here to celebrate her sister, not to endure the chatter of an insecure social climber. Go back to your husband before I decide to audit his father's offshore accounts out of sheer boredom.""
Vanessa scrambled to her feet so quickly she nearly tipped her chair over. She cast one last venomous, humiliated glare at Jessica before retreating across the marble floor in a blur of emerald green silk.
Jessica sat in stunned silence, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked at Giovanni, who casually picked up his wine glass as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
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""You really don't care what any of them think, do you?"" she whispered.
Giovanni looked at her, the harshness fading from his expression, replaced by an intensity that made Jessica's breath hitch. ""I care about the people who matter, Jessica. And right now, in this entire room, you are the only one who matters to me.""
