(Izzy POV)
My boots echo in the ballroom as I follow Antonio's beckoning hand, my heart pounding like a drum. Marco's ahead of me, his shoulders stiff in that dumb suit. I can't think straight, his dad's Antonio, my mom's Sofia, and we're step-siblings now. The woman, Rosa, keeps smirking, her eyes darting between us like she's won something. Antonio's waiting on the stage, his face hard, and I feel like a kid about to get yelled at. I hate this. I hate all of it.
Before we get there, Marco grabs my arm and yanks me into a hallway off the main room. The noise fades, clapping, chatter, all that wedding junk, leaving just us and the hum of lights. He spins me around, his grip tight but not mean. "Izzy," he says, voice low, "I didn't know, I swear." His eyes are wide, dark, begging me to believe him. He looks freaked out, same as me, but I don't care right now. I'm too mad.
I jerk my arm free, stepping back. "You didn't know?" My voice is loud, sharper than I mean it to be. "How could you not tell me about him?" I point toward the ballroom, where Antonio's probably still grinning like a king. "He's your dad, Marco! A mafia guy! And you didn't say anything?" My chest hurts, like it's caving in. Last night, he was my boyfriend, official, mine. Now he's tied to the creep I've hated since Mom brought him up. It stings, bad.
"Izzy, listen," he says, hands up like he's calming a wild dog. "I didn't know it was your mom. I swear. Dad's been seeing some woman, but he never said her name. I didn't connect it." He's talking fast, his breath shaky. "I hate him too, I don't want this." His face twists, all anger and shock, and I see it, he's messed up over this too. But it doesn't fix anything.
"How am I supposed to believe that?" I snap, crossing my arms. "You kept it quiet, your dad, your life. And now I'm stuck with him because of you!" My voice cracks, and I hate that too. I'm mad at him, mad at Mom, mad at everything. Last night, we were laughing, kissing, drunk and happy. Now it's all crashing down, and he's part of it. "You should've told me," I say quieter, glaring at him. "You should've said who he was."
"I didn't want you in this," he shoots back, stepping closer. "I keep you away from him, away from all that crap. You think I like it? He's a monster, Izzy. I've been trying to get out forever." His hands clench, and his voice drops. "I didn't know it'd be you here. I'm just as shocked." He's close now, his breath on my face, and I feel that spark, his heat, his pull. It's still there, flickering, but it hurts too.
I shake my head, stepping back again. "Doesn't matter. You're his son. I'm her daughter. This," I wave between us, "it's messed up now." My throat's tight, and I want to cry, but I won't. Not here. Not in front of him. He looks at me like I've slapped him, his jaw tight, but he doesn't argue. He knows I'm right. We're family now, step-family, and it's wrong. All wrong.
The hallway's quiet, just our breathing and the faint hum of the wedding outside. I want to run, out of here, away from him, from Mom, from Antonio. But I'm stuck, and so is he. "What do we do?" I ask, voice small. I don't even know why I'm asking him. He's the problem, or part of it.
"I don't know," he says, running a hand through his hair. "But I'm not letting this ruin us." His eyes lock on mine, fierce, like he means it. That spark flares again, and I hate it, hate that I still feel it, even now. I want to believe him, but the sting's too fresh. He's Antonio's son. That's not going away.
Before I can say anything, heels click behind me, sharp, fast. I turn, and there's Rosa, that nosy woman from before. She's smirking, her arms crossed like she's caught us doing something bad. "Boss wants you," she says, her voice all smug. She looks at Marco, then me, her eyes narrowing. "Both of you. Now." My stomach drops. Antonio. He's calling us back, and she's loving it.
Marco curses under his breath, glaring at her. "We're coming," he snaps, but she doesn't move, just stands there watching. I feel her stare, like she knows too much. Did she see us last night? Does she know we're, or were, together? My face burns, and I turn away from her, from him. This is a nightmare.
"Come on," Marco says, softer, touching my arm. I pull back, not looking at him. He sighs, and we start walking, Rosa trailing us like a guard dog. The hallway's short, and the ballroom noise grows louder, clinking glasses, fake laughs. My head's spinning, Marco's words bouncing around. "I didn't know." Maybe he didn't, but it doesn't change this. I'm tied to the Rossi name now, and he's part of it. I want to scream.
We're almost at the doors when I see her, a woman in a plain jacket, standing by the wall with a notepad. She's watching me, her face calm but hard. I freeze. I know her, Agent Mendes. Dad's old partner from the force. She used to come by after he died, checking on me and Mom. Now she's here, scribbling something, her eyes locked on me. My heart slams harder. She's a fed, here, at Antonio's wedding.
Marco bumps my shoulder, and Rosa shoves us forward. "Move it," she snaps. I stumble, glancing back. Mendes is still there, notepad out, staring like I'm a puzzle she's solving. Does she think I'm one of them now? A Rossi? I want to yell, "I'm not!" but we're dragged through the doors, back to the stage, back to Antonio. She's watching, and he's waiting, and I'm caught, stuck between Marco's mess and hers.