Sofia stood in front of her closet, staring at the collection of dresses she rarely wore. Court suits, yes. Business attire, absolutely. But gowns suitable for the Metropolitan Museum Charity Gala? Her options were limited.
"Wear something memorable," Dante had said. As if she needed the added pressure.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Gabriella, her paralegal and closest friend.
*Canceling on drinks two weeks in a row? Who are you and what have you done with my workaholic boss?*
Sofia hesitated before responding. She'd told Gabriella she was seeing someone new, but kept the details vague. Even that small disclosure felt like a violation of her agreement with Dante.
*Rain check. Promise I'll explain soon*, she texted back.
Another buzz: *It better be someone amazing to justify all this mystery.*
Sofia set down her phone without responding. Amazing wasn't exactly the word she'd use to describe Dante Castellano. Dangerous, compelling, unsettling - those fit better.
She finally selected a gown she'd worn to a law school alumni gala last year - deep burgundy silk with a modest neckline but a daring open back. Elegant enough for the Metropolitan, distinctive without being ostentatious, and most importantly, already in her closet.
As she dressed, applied makeup, and swept her dark hair into a sophisticated updo, Sofia rehearsed the cover story they'd agreed upon: they'd met at a legal charity function three weeks ago, exchanged numbers, and had been seeing each other since. Simple, plausible, and close enough to truth to be sustainable.
At precisely 7:15, Sofia got into her car and entered the address from the envelope into her GPS. Dante's residence turned out to be a luxury high-rise in Tribeca with a discreet doorman who seemed to be expecting her.
"Ms. Ricci," he greeted her. "Mr. Castellano is expecting you. Penthouse."
*Of course he lives in the penthouse*, Sofia thought as the private elevator whisked her upward. *Probably has an excellent view of his kingdom.*
When the doors opened, they revealed not a foyer but a direct entrance into a stunning apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a panoramic view of Manhattan, the lights of the city creating a breathtaking backdrop. The space was immaculately designed - modern with classic touches, all in a palette of grays, blues, and dark woods.
"Right on time."
Sofia turned to find Dante emerging from what appeared to be a hallway leading to other rooms. He wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. His dark hair was styled impeccably, his jawline freshly shaved. He looked, she had to admit, devastatingly handsome.
"Nice place," she said, trying to sound unimpressed.
"Thank you." His eyes traveled over her, a slow, appreciative assessment that made her face warm despite herself. "You look beautiful."
The simple compliment, delivered with evident sincerity, caught her off guard. "Thank you," she managed.
"Wine before we go?" He gestured to an open bottle of red breathing on the kitchen counter.
"Better not. I need to keep my wits about me tonight."
That earned her a smile. "A wise approach." He crossed to a side table and opened a sleek black box. "I have something for you."
Sofia tensed. "That wasn't part of our agreement."
"It's just for tonight." He removed a velvet pouch and held it out to her. "A couple in our position - certain appearances are expected."
Cautiously, Sofia accepted the pouch and opened it, tipping the contents into her palm. A teardrop ruby pendant on a delicate gold chain slid out, catching the light with deep crimson fire.
"I can't wear this," she said immediately, though her fingers closed around it reflexively. "It's too much."
"It matches your dress perfectly," Dante observed. "And it's just borrowed. Part of the appearance we're creating."
Sofia hesitated. The pendant was exquisite, likely worth more than she made in several months. But he was right - if they were going to be convincing, details mattered.
"Fine," she conceded, lifting the necklace. "But just for tonight."
"Allow me." He took the pendant from her hands before she could object.
Sofia turned reluctantly, lifting her hair. She felt him step closer, his presence solid and warm behind her. The pendant settled against her skin, cool at first but quickly warming. His fingers brushed the nape of her neck as he fastened the clasp, lingering perhaps a moment longer than necessary.
"Perfect," he said, his voice low near her ear.
Sofia dropped her hair and turned, finding him closer than she'd expected. She took an instinctive step back. "Shall we go?"
If he noticed her retreat, he didn't comment on it. "Of course. The car is waiting."
The elevator ride down was silent, tension humming between them. In the lobby, a different doorman held the door as they exited to where a black Bentley idled at the curb. Not a rental service, Sofia noted, but a private car with a driver who greeted Dante by name.
Once they were settled in the back seat, Dante turned to her. "Are you ready for this?"
"I've argued before the Supreme Court," Sofia replied. "I think I can handle a charity gala."
"The courtroom is your territory. Tonight, we're entering mine." His expression grew serious. "The people we'll meet - they'll be watching us closely. Not just because I rarely bring dates to these functions, but because of who you are."
"The judge's daughter."
"The respected defense attorney with an impeccable reputation," he corrected. "Dating the heir to the Castellano empire. It will raise eyebrows."
Sofia touched the ruby pendant absently. "Then we'll have to be convincing."
"Indeed." He studied her face. "You should know that my father will be there tonight."
That got her attention. "Marco Castellano? You didn't mention that."
"Would it have changed your decision to come?"
"No, but I would have appreciated the warning."
"Consider yourself warned." His mouth curved slightly. "He's curious about you."
"Suspicious, you mean."
"That too." Dante's hand moved to cover hers where it rested on the seat between them. The gesture seemed almost unconscious. "Just be yourself, Sofia. Your genuine intelligence is more convincing than any act."
The Metropolitan loomed ahead, its classical facade illuminated against the night sky. A line of limousines and luxury cars discharged passengers onto the red-carpeted entrance. Photographers clustered near the doors, capturing images of New York's elite in their finery.
As their car pulled up, Sofia felt a flutter of nerves. This was it - their first public appearance, the official beginning of their charade. Dante seemed to sense her tension.
"Follow my lead," he said softly. "And remember, tonight isn't about convincing strangers. It's about convincing the people who know me."
The car door opened. Dante exited first, then turned to offer his hand. Sofia accepted it, stepping out into the flash of cameras and the hum of conversation. His hand moved to the small of her back, warm through the silk of her gown, guiding her up the steps.
"Dante!" A photographer called out. "Over here! Who's your date?"
Dante ignored them, keeping Sofia close as they approached the entrance. A gray-haired man in an impeccable tuxedo stood greeting guests just inside the doors. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of them.
"Dante," he said warmly, extending his hand. "Didn't expect to see you tonight."
"Senator Jenkins." Dante shook the offered hand. "I never miss your wife's gala. The children's hospital is a worthy cause."
"And who is this lovely lady?" The senator's curious gaze shifted to Sofia.
"Sofia Ricci." Dante's arm slipped around her waist in a gesture that appeared intimate and natural. "Sofia, Senator Richard Jenkins, an old family friend."
"Ms. Ricci." Recognition flickered in the senator's eyes. "Judge Ricci's daughter, if I'm not mistaken? I believe we met at a judicial fundraiser last year."
"We did, Senator." Sofia offered her most charming professional smile. "It's good to see you again."
"Sofia is one of the city's finest defense attorneys," Dante added, a note of pride in his voice that seemed entirely genuine.
The senator's gaze moved between them, curiosity evident. "Well, this is... unexpected. How did you two meet?"
"Legal charity event," Sofia supplied smoothly. "Last month."
"She refused to give me her number at first," Dante added, the corner of his mouth lifting. "I had to be very persuasive."
Something in his tone made Sofia's cheeks warm. It wasn't entirely untrue, if one considered threats to be a form of persuasion.
"I'm sure you were," the senator chuckled. "Well, don't let me keep you. The bar is exceptional tonight, and Katherine will want to meet your... friend, Dante."
As they moved past the senator into the grand hall, Sofia felt Dante's lips brush her temple, his breath warm against her skin. "Well done," he murmured. "One down, about two hundred to go."
The Metropolitan's main hall had been transformed into a glittering wonderland. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over elaborately decorated tables. A small orchestra played in one corner, while waiters circulated with champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The city's elite mingled in their finest attire - politicians, business leaders, old money families, and celebrities.
"There's my father," Dante said quietly, nodding toward a distinguished man across the room.
Marco Castellano stood conversing with two other men, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. Even from a distance, Sofia could see the resemblance between father and son - the same commanding presence, the same watchful eyes. Marco was older, silver threading through his dark hair, lines of authority etched into his face.
"Should we go over?" Sofia asked.
"Not yet. He's seen us - that's enough for now." Dante steered her toward the bar. "First, champagne. Then we circulate. I want to introduce you to some people."
The next hour passed in a blur of introductions and small talk. Sofia found herself drawing on all her courtroom skills - listening carefully, responding thoughtfully, observing the subtle dynamics at play. Dante rarely left her side, his hand a constant presence at her back or holding hers. He was different in this setting - more charming, more animated, yet still with that underlying watchfulness that never quite disappeared.
What surprised her most was how easily they fell into rhythm together. When she spoke, he listened attentively. When he introduced a topic, she could follow and expand on it. They moved through the crowd like a couple who had been together far longer than a few weeks, anticipating each other's movements, exchanging glances that communicated without words.
"You're a natural at this," Dante commented as they stepped away from a group of art patrons.
"I'm good with juries," Sofia replied. "This isn't so different."
"Except the verdict comes much faster." He nodded subtly toward several people watching them with undisguised interest. "And I believe we're winning."
A waiter approached with a fresh glass of champagne for Sofia. As she accepted it, she caught sight of Marco Castellano making his way deliberately toward them.
"Your father is coming over," she murmured.
Dante's hand tightened slightly at her waist. "Remember, he's more suspicious than anyone else here. He knows me too well."
Before she could respond, Marco reached them. Up close, his resemblance to Dante was even more pronounced, though his eyes were a lighter brown, almost amber, and considerably colder.
"Dante." Marco's voice was deep, richly accented. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."
"Just making the rounds, Father." Dante's tone remained respectful but with an undercurrent of tension Sofia hadn't heard before. "I'd like you to meet Sofia Ricci. Sofia, my father, Marco Castellano."
"Ms. Ricci." Marco took her offered hand, his grip firm. "What a surprise. I wasn't aware my son was seeing anyone."
"It's recent," Sofia said smoothly.
"And yet serious enough to bring you to a family event." Marco's gaze was assessing, missing nothing. "Judge Ricci's daughter, yes? I know your father. A man of... principle."
The slight pause suggested this wasn't entirely a compliment.
"He speaks highly of La Luna," Sofia replied. "He mentioned you were acquaintances."
"Professional circles," Marco agreed. "Though I wonder what he would think of his daughter's choice of... companion."
Dante's expression hardened slightly. "Sofia makes her own decisions, Father."
"Clearly." Marco's gaze moved to where Dante's hand rested possessively at Sofia's waist. "And what brings a defense attorney of your reputation into my son's orbit, Ms. Ricci?"
The question carried layers of implication. Sofia met his gaze directly.
"Your son is intelligent, accomplished, and surprisingly persuasive," she said, allowing a hint of genuine feeling to color her tone. "Sometimes connections form where you least expect them."
Marco's eyebrows rose slightly. "Indeed they do." He turned to Dante. "Elena was asking for you earlier. She's by the east gallery."
"We'll find her," Dante promised.
"See that you do." Marco's attention returned to Sofia. "Ms. Ricci, a pleasure. I hope we'll have the opportunity for a more... extended conversation soon."
With a slight nod, he moved away, immediately engaged by another guest.
"That went better than expected," Dante murmured.
"He doesn't approve," Sofia observed.
"He's suspicious. My father doesn't believe in coincidences." Dante guided her toward a less crowded area. "But you handled him perfectly."
"Who's Elena?"
"My sister." Something softened in Dante's expression. "The one person in my family you might actually like."
As they made their way toward the east gallery, Sofia was acutely aware of the eyes following them, the whispers that trailed in their wake. She was being assessed, categorized, judged - not just as Dante's date but as a potential weakness, a liability, an asset. The weight of the ruby at her throat seemed to increase with each step.
She had stepped fully into Dante Castellano's world now, a world of power and danger concealed beneath a veneer of wealth and sophistication. And despite all her preparation, all her careful boundaries, Sofia couldn't shake the feeling that she was already in deeper than she'd planned.