Sofia had thought the lie would save her.
Instead, it bound her to him.
Dominic Varga didn't let go of her waist as he steered her toward the bar. His touch was light, almost polite, but it carried the weight of ownership—like he'd been waiting his entire life to be claimed in front of a room full of strangers.
"You're shaking," he said, his mouth close to her ear. "Is it because of him… or me?"
Sofia forced a smile for the watching crowd, but her pulse betrayed her. "Does it matter?"
Nico's laugh was low and dangerous, curling like smoke. "It matters to me."
At the bar, crystal glasses clinked, the scent of expensive whiskey hung in the air, and Miami's elite drifted in glittering waves around them. Yet Sofia felt cornered, pinned by his eyes.
"You used me," Nico murmured as the bartender slid a drink across the counter. He didn't drink. He only watched her, studying every flicker of her face. "Do you know how reckless that is?"
"I didn't have a choice." Her voice was sharper than she intended. "He was watching. He needed to believe I've moved on."
Nico's jaw flexed, his gaze cutting past her to Marcus, still staring, still smirking from across the ballroom. Then his attention snapped back to her, sharp as a blade.
"Then congratulations," Nico said. "Now he believes you belong to me."
Her breath caught. "That's not what this is."
"Oh, querida," he whispered, leaning closer, his hand brushing hers on the glass. "With me, there's never 'just pretend.' Lies become truths. And truths… destroy."
Before she could reply, a shadow fell over them. A man with a scar carved into his cheek leaned in, speaking in rapid Hungarian. His presence chilled the air around them, and for a split second, Nico's mask slipped. His expression hardened into something lethal.
Nico straightened, his grip tightening at her waist. "Stay here."
"No," Sofia shot back, panic and defiance colliding in her chest. "I don't—"
His eyes pinned her, burning green. A devil's promise. "You will."
And then he was gone, disappearing with the scarred man into a side corridor.
Sofia's hand shook around her drink. Every rational part of her screamed to run—to slip out into the humid Miami night, to vanish before Dominic Varga returned.
But across the ballroom, Marcus raised his glass in mocking salute. His smile said she was still the girl left behind, still the one not chosen.
Sofia lifted her chin. She wasn't running. Not from Marcus. Not from Nico. Not from the lie that had already started unraveling around her.
Because the truth was worse.
For the first time in her life, Sofia Alvarez wasn't sure if she wanted to be saved… or claimed.
Nico is pulled into mafia business, leaving Sofia to face Marcus's taunt alone—but she chooses defiance over escape, pulling herself deeper into Nico's dangerous orbit.