to Trey, then focus back on me as he offers his reply, seeming almost pleased with himself.
The mayor is on his feet, making his way back to my table. At this point last year, he’d already looked defeated. Yet tonight, he looks hopeful as he takes his seat across from me.
I look back to Raphael, who’s still staring, so I maintain eye contact with him as Alexander begins to speak.
“As expected, Mr. Marocchi politely declined your offer, but has proposed one of his own. One he wants you to take your time in considering.”
This is new. I give the mayor my full attention. “What is it I should consider, Mayor Salvatore?”
“Since neither of you are willing to give up control, he suggested going back to your original plan?”
My eyes cut across the room to Raphael, whose smirk has turned into a full-blown grin. Inhaling deeply, I make sure not to give anything away. He has to be joking. We were silly kids back then who knew nothing of what we spoke of.
“Announce the dance, Alexander.”
The mayor’s surprise is overridden by Trey’s disapproval. “You can’t be serious, Mila?”
I’ve had enough of his input for one night. “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.” Turning to the mayor, I repeat myself, hating that I have to do so. “Announce the dance.”
Raphael isn’t going to be the only one throwing a curveball tonight.
“Mila, no Camarco has ever accepted a compromise for peace in over two hundred years. If you accept tonight, it can never be undone.”
How absurd. The dance was introduced ten years ago by the mayor at the time to adhere to a vow of peace, if taken. Before that, there was never a woman at the head of the family; it was always men facing off with men. Before the dance, if a deal was brokered, they would be made to exchange weapons—a sign of willingness to end the bloodshed.
Rising from my chair, I smooth out my dress and narrow my eyes. “Have I ever needed you to remind me of historical facts or to point out the obvious?”
Leaning back in his chair, he downs his whiskey in an acquiescence. Good.
“Surely you’ve felt times are changing. He’s becoming bolder, greedier. I want him and everyone here to see I won’t be viewed as less than him.”
His chest deflates with a heavy sigh, and I wait for him to say his piece. Instead, he queries, “What was your original plan?”
There are only three people who know of it: Raphael, Father Luke—now an old man, tucked away somewhere safe—and I. It was ambitious and absurd to believe love could conquer all. Such foolish minds of children.
“If I could have the attention of the good people of Vita,” Mayor Alexander announces over the mic, the crowd immediately quieting. “It’s time I call Ms. Camarco and Mr. Marocchi to the floor in a single dance of hope for peace.”
The murmurs fade to silence, the buzz of shock and astonishment drifting around me as I take the first step. As I make my way toward the dance floor, the crowd parts, their wide eyes following my every move.
Not one guest accepted the invitation tonight expecting it to end in peace. And as I stand with my head held high, my hands clasped in front of me, I focus on the head of the Marocchi family.
He hasn’t moved, though his narrowed eyes don’t stray from mine. I used to be able to read him, but not any longer. However, we both know that at this moment, I’m holding all the power in the eyes of the people. I’m standing here willingly, and he’s not. They’ll see him as the one choosing to continue on with the bloodshed.
Seconds pass, turning into minutes. A slow, smug smile begins to spread across my lips, but it comes too soon. Raphael rises to his feet, straightens his shoulders, and adjusts his tux jacket. Whispers grow louder as his men move out of his way, allowing him to strut down to the dance floor.
I’m no fool—this is uncharted territory. One wrong move from either one of us can end this night early, bathing it in blood and butchery.
“W–We have made history…”
Mayor Alexander’s voice fades away, lost in the music that grows in volume, as Raphael stands five feet in front of me. Looking into his blue eyes, so many memories shared between us resurface before he holds his hand out to me.
It’s been ten years since we’ve touched one another, spoken a