★ZAVARELLI★
The backseat door of the limo was opened by the chauffeur. I stepped out first, then extended my hand so my wife could join me.
My wife… How much I had once despised that word. Yet, seeing Angelita in that ocean-blue dress—a vision that could steal the breath from anyone—I could not quite recall why I had hated the thought of her as my wife. A small smile lit her face, practiced and poised, and I wished it were sincere. Not that I truly knew what a sincere smile looked like.
Paparazzi crowded both sides of the red carpet, jostling against the railings. As we were led inside by my bodyguards, the questions began to fly.
"Ms. Angelita, are you married to Mr. de Luca?"
"Ms. Angelita, please say something."
"Mr. de Luca, is this a farce or a real marriage?"
"Is this business to you both?"
Their questions rolled on until they finally faded as we entered the hall. I expected nothing less from Hardin, the investor hosting tonight's gala.
