Olimpia immediately clutched the back of her hand, her eyes flooding red. I caught it, the tiny thing no one else would notice: she bit the inside of her lower lip, a quick mechanical preparation, and then fat tears rolled down her cheeks in an instant.
"Giuliana, I just thought the necklace was pretty and wanted a closer look. If you didn't want to show me, you could've just said so. Why did you have to push me?"
The music stopped.
Every pair of eyes in the hall turned toward us. The Capos' wives. The underbosses' women. The associates who owed Domenico favors and feared his moods. All of them watching, calculating.
For the past seven years, any woman who tried to get close to Domenico or provoke me had been thrown out without mercy. I had once shoved a starlet's face into a cake in front of the entire Capital's elite for trying to crawl into his bed.
Domenico crossed the hall in long strides and pulled Olimpia behind him. The crowd parted for him without being asked. They always did.
He looked down at the faint red mark on the back of her hand, and his brow furrowed tight.
"Giuliana, what the hell is wrong with you? Olimpia just got back to the country. Why are you going after her?"