Matteo's sharp eyes caught the shift in Arabella's expression, and his jaw tightened ever so slightly. He said nothing, but his stance subtly shifted, a protective presence at her side.

"Shall we?" Tomasso asked, offering her his hand. Arabella placed her hand in his, willing herself to play the part of the dutiful fiancée.

They walked together toward her father, who was already making rounds with their guests. The noise of the crowd and the soft clinking of glasses filled the air. Arabella's eyes flicked around the ballroom—always aware, always scanning.

Her attention caught on Gabriele Bruni, Tomasso's younger brother, leaning casually against a wall. He was speaking to a young female server, his face far too close to hers, a familiar smirk curling on his lips. Arabella had seen it too many times before. He was always trying to charm some pretty woman into his bed. Her frown deepened, unease tightening in her chest. Gabriele had a way of making her uncomfortable—a reputation for carelessness and indulgence that left a trail of rumors in his wake. His playboy persona and reckless behavior were no secret, and neither were the whispers about his disregard for anyone but himself.

It sickened her to know Serena would be bound to him. Her sister's unhappiness with the arranged engagement gnawed at her. Arabella hated the thought of Serena's misery, trapped in a future she didn't want. She wished Gabriele would straighten up, show some respect, and stop being a walking embarrassment to the Famiglia.