Isabella's heart pounded as Vittorio D'Angelo stepped into the light. His smile was sharp, dangerous and predatory.
"Isabella Moretti," he said again, savoring her name like wine. "Such a pleasure to finally meet you properly once again."
The ballroom had gone quiet as Guests turned to stare. The orchestra held their instruments but didn't play.
"I think you have me confused with someone else," Isabella said. Her voice didn't shake. Good.
"Do I?" Vittorio moved closer. He was tall like Matteo, but thinner. His suit was perfectly tailored. His smile never reached his eyes. "You have your father's stubborn streak."
Matteo stepped forward. His body was tense. Ready for a fight. "D'Angelo. I wasn't aware you were invited."
"Oh, but I was." Vittorio pulled an invitation from his jacket. Gold edges. Expensive paper. "Your Uncle Sam sent this personally."
Isabella felt Matteo go rigid beside her. Uncle sam. The man who'd taken over after Matteo's father died.
