“A Don Doesn’t Date Fat Girls,” She Spat. He Locked The Door “Watch Me Make You My Wife”
Chapter 1
The ballroom went silent for exactly three seconds.
That was all it took for Bianca Moretti to realize everyone had heard her.
She stood beside a marble pillar at the annual Moretti Foundation gala, one hand wrapped around a glass of sparkling water, the other tightening around the strap of her black clutch.
Across the room stood Matteo De Luca.
The De Luca family owned half the legitimate businesses in the city and quietly controlled most of the things nobody talked about.
He was thirty-eight, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and dressed in a black tuxedo that looked almost unfair on him.
People called him the Don.
Not because he enjoyed the title.
Because everyone else had given it to him.
He was the man who could walk into a room and make conversations die.
He was also the man Bianca had spent the last twenty minutes avoiding.
Unfortunately, she had just overheard two women talking near the champagne table.
“A Don doesn’t date fat girls,” one of them had whispered.
The other had laughed.
Bianca had turned.
She hadn’t planned to say anything.
She was tired of defending herself.
Tired of people looking at her body before they looked at her face.
Tired of men flirting with her in private and pretending not to know her in public.
But then one of the women had looked directly at Bianca and smiled.
“What? We’re only being realistic.”
Bianca had walked over.
“Then here’s something realistic,” she said. “A man’s title doesn’t make him attractive, and a woman’s size doesn’t make her unworthy.”
The women went quiet.
Then one of them glanced toward Matteo.
“A Don doesn’t date fat girls.”
Bianca laughed bitterly.
“I wasn’t asking him to.”
And that was when Matteo finally turned.
His eyes met hers from across the ballroom.
He didn’t look amused.
He didn’t look offended.
He looked interested.
Bianca immediately wished she had never spoken.
Matteo walked toward her.
People moved aside without being asked.
He stopped directly in front of her.
“What’s your name?”
She lifted her chin.
“Bianca.”
“I know.”
That surprised her.
“You know me?”
“I know everyone who works for the Moretti Foundation.”
“I don’t work for them.”
“You do now.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“You just volunteered.”
Bianca stared at him.
“You’re very arrogant.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
Her cheeks warmed.
“Then you probably deserve it.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“What were you doing before that conversation?”
“Trying to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate events like this.”
“So do I.”
“Then we’re finally agreeing on something.”
Matteo leaned slightly closer.
“I don’t care what those women think.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because people who think like that eventually decide people like me don’t belong in rooms like this.”
Matteo’s expression changed.
“Do you belong here?”
Bianca looked around.
At the gowns.
The diamonds.
The polished marble.
The people who had spent generations teaching themselves how to look important.
Then she looked back at him.
“I worked for every room I’ve ever entered.”
Matteo held her gaze.
“Good answer.”
Bianca turned to leave.
He caught her attention with one sentence.
“You should know something.”
She looked back.
“What?”
“I don’t choose women by size.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Congratulations.”
“I choose women who can stand in front of a room full of cruel people and still tell the truth.”
Bianca didn’t know what to say.
Matteo stepped closer.
“And tonight, you’re the first person here who did.”
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression became cold immediately.
“Where?”
A pause.
“Get her out.”
Bianca watched him.
“What happened?”
Matteo looked at her.
“You’re coming with me.”
She blinked.
“Excuse me?”
He held out his hand.
Bianca stared at it.
She didn’t take it.
“I barely know you.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
“That,” he said quietly, “is about to change.”
