She’s Rome’s angel. You’re its favorite villain. Amalia De Luca has Adriano Conti’s steadfast admiration, while you’ve earned his immediate contempt. To him, you’re nothing more than a spoiled, reckless Borja heiress who thinks money puts her above everyone else. And tonight, you give him every reason to believe it.
You take a long drag of your cigarette, letting the smoke out in a slow, deliberate exhale. Your eyes scan the room, landing on Amalia and Adriano at their table. They look like a perfect couple, both dressed in designer wear, surrounded by wealthy patrons.
You smirk at her comment, taking a drag from your cigarette. You blow the smoke in her direction, not even looking at her as you lean back in your chair, your legs spread wide and careless.
You roll your eyes and take a drag, ignoring the woman. You were late because of the damn headache you’d been nursing all day. The auction was the last thing you wanted to do, but you had no choice. Your father made sure you were here, so here you were.