Sophia's POV
The soft chuckle from the VIP section made my skin prickle with unease. Had someone been listening to our entire conversation? The realization that I'd been pouring out my deepest fears and secrets in what I'd thought was a private corner suddenly made me feel exposed and vulnerable.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, suddenly hyper-aware of how loudly I'd been speaking. How much had they heard? The part about my father forcing me into marriage? The details about the Romano family's reputation? My voice describing Vito Romano as a monster?
Oh God. What if word gets back to the wrong people?
"You know what, honey?" Emily said gently, apparently noticing my sudden tension. "Everyone goes through difficult times. The important thing is that you don't have to face them alone."
I tried to focus on her words, but that chuckle kept echoing in my mind. It had sounded amused, but there was something darker underneath it, something that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end.
"Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is meet your fears head-on," Emily continued, her hand still covering mine across the table. "You might find that the reality is different from what you've imagined."
"I don't think I'm brave enough for that," I whispered, my voice shaky. "Some fears exist for good reasons."
Emily's eyes were full of compassion. "Fear is natural, especially when you're facing the unknown. But running away isn't always the answer either."
I wanted to tell her that she didn't understand, that this wasn't just pre-wedding jitters or normal relationship anxiety. This was life and death, literally. But how could I explain the full scope of my situation to a kind stranger in a coffee shop?
"What if the person you're supposed to marry really is dangerous?" I asked quietly. "What if all the stories are true?"
"Then maybe," Emily said thoughtfully, "you need to decide if you're going to let other people's stories define your reality, or if you're going to find out the truth for yourself."
Before I could respond, a voice drifted from the shadows behind us—deep, smooth, with just a hint of an accent that made my pulse quicken in ways I didn't want to examine.
"Miss, you seem to have quite an in-depth understanding of Vito Romano."
The blood in my veins turned to ice water.
I turned slowly in my chair, my heart hammering against my ribs as I peered into the dim VIP section. In the low lighting, I could make out the silhouette of a man seated in what appeared to be a wheelchair. He was large, imposing even while seated, wearing what looked like an expensive dark suit. Designer sunglasses covered his eyes despite the already dim lighting.
Something about his posture, the set of his shoulders, the way he held his head... it was familiar. Terrifyingly familiar.
No. It can't be.
"Vito?" Emily's voice was filled with surprise as she stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I didn't realize you were here."
The name hit me like a physical blow.
Vito.
Vito Romano.
The man I'd been describing as a monster for the past twenty minutes was sitting less than ten feet away from me, and had apparently heard every word.
My vision started to tunnel. The room seemed to tilt sideways, and I gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling out of my chair. This couldn't be happening. This was the kind of nightmare scenario that only existed in bad movies or anxiety-induced fever dreams.
But it was real. The man in the wheelchair, the one I'd literally fallen on top of at the hospital just hours earlier, was Vito Romano. The same man my father wanted me to marry. The same man I'd just spent twenty minutes calling a violent, unhinged monster.
"Emily," his voice was warm when he addressed her, but there was an undertone of something sharp and dangerous. "I see you've made a new friend."
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but stare at him in absolute horror as the full scope of my situation crashed down on me.
I hadn't just bad-mouthed Vito Romano to a stranger in a coffee shop. I'd bad-mouthed him to his face, while sitting three tables away from him. And not only that, but Emily—sweet, pregnant Emily who'd shown me such kindness—apparently knew him personally.
How does she know him? Why didn't she tell me he was here? Did she know who I was talking about the whole time?
"Sophia," Emily said gently, though her voice carried a note of tension I hadn't heard before. "I'd like you to meet—"
"We've already met," Vito interrupted smoothly, and I could hear the amusement in his voice. "Earlier today, at the hospital. Though I don't believe we were properly introduced."
Emily's eyes widened as she looked between us. "You two know each other?"
"Not exactly," I managed to croak out, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... there was an accident. I fell..."
Fell on him. Fell on Vito Romano. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
"An accident indeed," Vito said, and I could swear I heard a smile in his voice. "Miss Cohen was in quite a hurry. Weren't you, Miss Cohen?"
He knew my name. Of course he knew my name. He was supposed to marry a Cohen daughter. The realization that he might already know about the engagement, about the arranged marriage, made my stomach lurch violently.
"Miss Cohen ?" Emily's voice was soft, surprised. She looked at me with new understanding, and I realized that she'd probably known all along who I was supposed to be marrying. She'd let me ramble on about my fears and call her friend a monster, all while knowing exactly who I was talking about.
I wanted to disappear. To sink through the floor or spontaneously combust or wake up from this nightmare. Anything to escape the absolute mortification of this moment.
"Indeed she is," Vito confirmed. "And apparently, she's formed some very strong opinions about me based on... what was it you called me? A monster?"
The question was asked in that same smooth, amused tone, but underneath it I could hear something that made every survival instinct I possessed scream danger. This was a man accustomed to respect, to fear, to people watching their words very carefully when speaking about him.
And I'd just called him a violent, unhinged cripple.
"I..." I started, then stopped. What could I possibly say? How could I explain or apologize for something like that?
Emily was watching the interaction with growing concern, her hand protectively cradling her pregnant belly. "Maybe we should—"
"Please, don't leave on my account," Vito said, though his tone suggested it wasn't really a request. "I'm quite interested in hearing more of Miss Cohen's thoughts about my character. After all, we're going to be seeing much more of each other very soon."
He definitely knew about the arrangement, about the marriage, about everything. And I'd just given him every reason to call the whole thing off, to let my family burn, to make sure Alfonso never got the medical care he needed.
Unless, of course, he decided that humiliating me wasn't enough. Unless he decided that I deserved the kind of lesson he was famous for giving people who disrespected him.
"Cat got your tongue, little one?" he asked softly, and the endearment he'd used at the hospital now sounded distinctly ominous.
I forced myself to meet his sunglasses, even though I couldn't see his eyes behind the dark lenses. "Mr. Romano, I... I owe you an apology."
"Do you?" His head tilted slightly. "For which part? Falling on me at the hospital, or calling me a monster in public?"
"Both," I whispered, my cheeks burning with shame. "I had no right to speak about you that way. I don't even know you."
"No," he agreed quietly. "You don't. But you're going to."