He wore a charcoal suit without a tie, his black hair brushed back, his expression unreadable. Two security men followed several steps behind him. They did not crowd him. They did not need to. Power made space for him before his body arrived.
Lila straightened too quickly and nearly dropped the ribbon.
Dante stopped beneath the arch and looked up.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Lila’s stomach tightened. “The right side isn’t finished yet. It needs more depth.”
“It looks finished.”
“It isn’t.”
One of his brows lifted.
Lila realized what she had said and to whom she had said it. Heat rushed into her cheeks. “I mean… from a distance it’s acceptable, but up close it needs balance.”
“Do you always correct dangerous men about roses?”
“Only when they’re wrong about roses.”
The faintest change touched his mouth.
Not a smile.
Almost.
“Then I’ll try to be wrong less often,” he said.
Lila looked away first. She had learned young not to enjoy the attention of men who lived in rooms she could not afford to enter. Attention could be flattering until it became a bill.
Dante stepped closer to the arch, careful not to touch anything. “You kept the blue.”
“You asked for them.”
“Vivienne asked you to remove them.”
Lila froze. “She sent a planner.”
“I know.”
“Then you know I said no.”
“I do.”
She waited for punishment.
Instead, Dante looked at the flowers. “My mother used to say white roses were too proud alone. She said every beautiful thing needed a little memory tucked inside it.”
Lila’s throat softened despite herself. “She sounds like someone who understood flowers.”
“She understood people. Flowers were easier.”
Lila almost smiled.
Then laughter rose from the other side of the hedge.
Vivienne’s laughter.
Dante turned his head slightly. So did Lila.
The voices were low, hidden behind the tall wall of boxwood that separated the ceremony lawn from the east garden path. Lila could not see them, but she recognized Vivienne’s polished tone at once.
“Tomorrow he signs,” Vivienne said. “After that, he can glare at the whole city if he wants. It won’t matter.”
A second woman answered. “And if he refuses?”
“He won’t. He thinks it’s about protecting me.”
The women laughed.
Lila’s hand tightened around the ribbon.
Dante’s face did not change, but something in the air around him sharpened.
“Who is with her?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Lila whispered.
A man’s voice joined them, smooth and amused. “Careful. The staff moves everywhere.”
Vivienne scoffed. “The staff hears everything and understands nothing.”
The second woman laughed again. “Especially the florist.”
Lila went still.
“They all think she’s sweet because she’s soft,” Vivienne said. “Women like that are always grateful just to be allowed near rich people.”
The words hit old bruises Lila thought she had buried.
Dante looked at her.
Lila wished he hadn’t.
She wanted to be composed. Professional. Invisible in the useful way. Instead, she could feel every inch of herself: the body Vivienne had dismissed, the hands red from flower thorns, the shoes bought on sale, the black dress that looked modest beside this estate’s wealth.
The man behind the hedge spoke again. “Enough. The media package is ready. The forged approvals are in place. The transfer order goes live once the marriage papers are signed.”
Dante’s eyes darkened.
Vivienne said, “And the video?”
“Prepared. By the time he realizes what happened, the room will already believe he did it all to himself.”
Lila’s pulse roared so loudly she almost missed Dante’s next words.
“Go back to work,” he said softly.
She stared at him. “What?”
His voice remained calm. “Not here. Not now. Go back to work.”
“But you heard—”
“I heard.”
“Then stop it.”
His gaze flicked toward the hedge. “If I stop it now, I catch only the bride. I want the hand behind her.”
Lila swallowed.
Before she could answer, Vivienne emerged from the garden path with her maid of honor, Celeste Wynn, and Dante’s cousin, Nico Vescari.
Nico was younger than Dante by nearly ten years, handsome in a bright, careless way. He had the easy confidence of someone raised close enough to power to mistake borrowed light for his own sun. He smiled when he saw Dante.
“Cousin,” Nico said. “Inspecting the flowers?”
Dante turned toward him with the calm of a closed door. “Admiring them.”
Vivienne’s eyes moved to Lila. “Still working on the arch?”
“Yes,” Lila said.
“Do try to make it look less sentimental.”
Dante said, “It will stay exactly as Miss Marlowe designed it.”
Vivienne’s smile held. Only her eyes changed. “Of course, darling.”
She slipped her hand through Dante’s arm. He allowed it. Lila looked down before she could see anything more.
But as Vivienne passed, Lila noticed something caught beneath the rose bundles waiting near the stone urn.