"Then what would you call it? Love?"
The question itself sounded like a trap, and Mara knew it.
"I'd call it fate," Mara replied.
Donna Greco's laughter rang out, a sharp and icy sound that drew the attention of those nearby."How romantic. Though I suppose when Don Gio's other... arrangements... failed to produce an heir for decades, fate does seem like the only explanation, doesn't it?"
Nico's jaw tightened. "Careful, Sylvia."
"I'm simply curious," she said, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping to something more dangerous. "After all, so many women tried for so many years. Beautiful women. Connected women. And yet you…" her eyes raked over Mara with barely concealed contempt, "...you managed it in one night. Truly remarkable."
Mara met her gaze and didn't blink. "Maybe they just weren't trying hard enough."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
The smile on Donna Greco's face froze.
Nico's hand tightened on Mara's back… half warning, half approval.
