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“My head hurts,” she soed to say and it was partly true “I’ are killing my feet Please excuse me”

“How charly you lie, Ms Vito”

He delivered the insult in such a smooth voice that it took her a few seconds to realize it

“Next, you will tellon a good show for Gio’s sake That the jewelry and dress and shoes—the ones that incidentally proclai” He twisted the last tords into awith every man who asked you with that innocent invitation in your eyes That this whole evening is an elaborate charade you’re suffering through like a good sacrificial lamb”

That was exactly what she had been doing

The dress, the shoes, the jewelry, even the complicated updo her hair isted into, none of it was her But she had kept quiet

Because she’d wanted Giovanni to be proud of her

Because she’d wanted to be so and polished—not a wo debt

Yet this arrogantthe attention, not liking being on display were impossible

“You’ve already drawn your conclusions, Mr Mastrantino”

“How do you knoho I am?”

“Gio told me you’d be the ant ht” Heat climbed up her chest as he raised a brow

She looked around the ballroorandfather’s silver hair, she sent him a please-rescue-me look

As if he hadn’t even seen her, Gio carried on his conversation

A pulse of panic druh her It was as if Mr Mastrantino, Gio and even the guests were playing a game, but no one had told Pia the rules