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I DIDN'T CHANGE MY NUMBER

♧

BILLIE EILISH

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I TOSSED my coat onto the marble island, loosening the top two buttons of my shirt as I let out a tired sigh. The day had been long, and I had little patience left for the performance we were expected to put on tonight.

"Master Antonio," Albert greeted me, his tone as polished as ever, carrying a hot comb resting neatly on a plush pillow. He breezed past me, heading toward my bedroom without so much as an explanation.

"Albert," I called after him, raising an eyebrow and following his brisk stride. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

He didn't respond, only disappearing into the room as if it were his.

The second I stepped inside, a wave of scents hit me-vanilla musk, jasmine, faint traces of expensive leather, and something sharp and powdery, almost like a mix of lipstick and a high-end whiskey spill. It was a heady concoction, both alluring and overwhelming, like Marilyn Monroe had a perfume duel with Maddy Perez, and Raven Baxter added her flair with incense.

My room, usually a haven of understated masculinity, had been transformed into something that screamed Celine. The vanity was cluttered with a lineup of glossy tubes, powders, and tiny brushes. A fur stole was draped over the back of a chair, and the faint sound of a female rapper hummed from the speaker on the bedside table.

"Yeah I hit a bitch 'cause I got nothin to lose. Runnin' through these checks like the ones on my shoes. So don't get geek'd up."

"What the fuck?" I muttered as I stepped into my room, my polished shoes narrowly avoiding a trail of couture clothing scattered across the floor. Dresses, shoes, and bags-all thrown around like a hurricane had passed through.

Celine was seated at the vanity in the bathroom, her head full of hair rollers, her face half-done as she meticulously applied makeup. Summer was steaming a dress by the corner, while Lottie carefully started taking the rollers out of Celine's hair. The smell of hairspray and expensive perfume hung in the air like a fog.

"Thank you, Albert," Celine said without looking up, her focus unwavering as she blended something onto her cheek with a brush that looked more like a weapon.

Albert, ever loyal, was kneeling on the floor, wiping down a pair of heels with a cloth as though they were sacred artifacts.

"What the fuck has my room become?" I asked, my tone sharp as I gestured at the chaos.

Albert didn't even flinch. "It has become a masterpiece in progress, Master Antonio." He glanced up at me briefly, then motioned toward the clock. "Sir, you have to get ready as well."

"How can I?" I snapped, checking my watch. The dinner started at 7:00 PM, and it was now 6:15 PM. "What time did she even start getting ready?"

Albert straightened, his tone matter-of-fact. "Two hours ago."

"Two hours ago, and this is all she's done?" I asked incredulously, gesturing toward Celine, who was now lining her lips with a sharp brown pencil.

"That was the earliest we could get her back from shopping," Albert replied, moving on to organize the cluttered array of makeup and jewelry on the vanity.

"Shopping? On whose credit card?"

"I used yours," Celine answered nonchalantly, leaning closer to the mirror as she carefully perfected her lips.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You're going to bankrupt me, woman."

"Then maybe you should've married someone cheaper," she shot back, her voice sweet but laced with venom.

Albert suppressed a smile as he handed her a small black clutch, already stocked with her essentials. "Mrs. Genovese does have exquisite taste, sir."

I shot Albert a look. "Stop enabling her."

"I live to serve, sir," he replied dryly, stepping aside as Summer handed Celine her freshly steamed dress.

Celine stood, stretching slightly before holding up the sleek black gown. "What do you think?"

"I think you're burning time," I said, my voice edged with irritation.

She ignored me entirely, stepping behind the folding screen with Lottie and Summer trailing behind to help her change.

I looked at Albert. "And here I thought you worked for me."

"Technically, I serve the household," Albert said, his tone neutral but smug.

I sighed, pacing the room as the clock continued to tick down. The De Lucas were punctual people, and the idea of showing up late to this dinner was enough to make my blood pressure spike.

When Celine finally stepped out, the room seemed to pause. The black dress hugged her curves perfectly, the slit revealing just enough leg to make a statement. Her hair cascaded down in perfect waves, and her makeup was sharp, dramatic, and unapologetically her.

I stared at her for a moment longer than I intended.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You look..." I trailed off, clearing my throat. "Passable."

She smirked, grabbing the clutch Albert had prepared for her. "Coming from you, that's practically a love letter."

"Let's go before I change my mind about taking you," I said, holding the door open for her.

"As if you'd dare," she shot back, strutting past me, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

Albert gave me a knowing look as I followed her out. "Good luck, sir. You'll need it."

I muttered under my breath, "Luck won't save me tonight."

We were halfway out the door when Celine suddenly gasped, stopping so abruptly I nearly walked into her.

"I didn't say bye to Venom!" she exclaimed, hoisting her dress up and sprinting back into the house as if she were saving a child from a burning building.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, my patience dangling by a thread. "Celine, it's a fucking bug! Let's go!"

She ignored me entirely, her heels clacking against the marble as she disappeared into the house. "Lottie, bring me Venom's cage!" she called out, her voice echoing like a war cry.

I followed her back inside, muttering under my breath. "The woman is a menace."

Albert, who had been waiting by the door with his usual unflappable demeanor, raised an eyebrow as Celine barreled past him. "Mrs. Genovese has a soft spot for her... unusual companion," he remarked dryly.

"Companion?" I said, throwing my hands up. "It's a homicidal crustacean with a death wish."

Albert smirked faintly. "To be fair, sir, that does sound like her type."

Before I could respond, Lottie appeared, carefully holding the glass enclosure containing the infamous scorpion. Venom sat in the center of her tiny domain, looking as smug as an insect possibly could.

Celine rushed to take the cage, cooing like a mother reunited with her child. "There's my sweet girl! Mommy had to leave in such a hurry, didn't she?"

I stared, incredulous. "Mommy? Are you listening to yourself right now?"

So she can baby a bug but not seem to atleast consider us having a child?

She shot me a glare as she adjusted the cage in her arms. "Don't talk to her like that. She's sensitive."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was in the middle of Charlotte's Web," I deadpanned, crossing my arms. "Do you want me to grab her a suitcase too? Maybe a tiny passport?"

Celine ignored me, placing a kiss on the top of the cage before handing it back to Lottie. "Take good care of her while we're gone."

"I'll guard her with my life, ma'am," Lottie replied, barely containing her amusement.

"You've created a monster," I said, narrowing my eyes at Lottie as Celine finally turned back toward the door.

As we stepped out into the night, I glanced at the clock in the car. We were already late. "You know," I said as the driver opened the door for us, "if the De Lucas ask why we're late, I'm telling them it's because of your bug."

She slid into the car without missing a beat. "Tell them whatever you want, Antonio. Just make sure they know Venom's bite is less toxic than your personality."

I sighed, leaning back in the seat as the car pulled away from the house. Marrying her was like being chained to a hurricane with a sharp tongue and no brakes. And God help me, I couldn't decide if that was a blessing or a curse.

The engine purred as I pressed the gas pedal harder, the dark road stretching ahead like a tunnel into obligation. My grip on the steering wheel tightened as I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. We were already flirting with tardiness, and I hated being late-it was sloppy, disrespectful.

"What the fuck are you rushing for?" Celine asked, her voice lazy as she propped her feet up on the dash like she didn't have a care in the world.

I shot her a pointed glare. "This dinner is very important. And thanks to you, we're a few minutes away from being late."

She shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smirk. "And thanks to me, you get to stand next to a pretty lady all night."

I resisted the urge to sigh. "I have to hold a pretty lady all night. Big difference."

"So we agree I'm pretty?" she teased, arching an eyebrow.

"Celine," I said, my tone low and warning. "The De Lucas do not know this is an arranged marriage. They believe we married out of love. Some even think it was because you're pregnant."

"What the hell is up with everyone and children?" she snapped, leaning back in her seat dramatically. "Like, what the fuck. Is that all people can talk about?"

I bit back a laugh, masking it with a faint cough. Her reaction wasn't entirely wrong; the obsession with heirs and alliances was exhausting. But this wasn't the time for jokes.

"Focus," I said firmly. "You'll need to act the part tonight. They're not just allies-they're watching us, testing us. Any sign of weakness, any crack in this... performance, and it'll cost us."

She rolled her eyes but said nothing, her silence louder than any argument.

I adjusted my tie with one hand as I kept my eyes on the road. The mansion came into view, its grand silhouette framed by towering iron gates. "And for the love of God, Celine, don't do anything... reckless."

"Define reckless," she muttered under her breath.

I exhaled slowly, praying for patience. "You'll know it when you do it."

As we pulled up to the gates, the guards waved us through without question. The weight of the night settled in my chest like a stone. This wasn't just dinner-it was a test. And I hated that a small, stupid part of me was more nervous about how Celine would handle it than anything the De Lucas could throw our way. I stepped out of the car, adjusting the cuffs of my jacket before heading around to Celine's side. The soft click of her door opening seemed deafening against the quiet evening air. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the edge of the seat, as if weighing the consequences of accepting my help.

I extended my hand, impatient. "Married people touch each other, remember?"

She slipped her hand into mine, her skin cool and hesitant. "I still have no idea why people do it," she whispered under her breath as she rose gracefully, holding the hem of her dress to avoid dragging it against the ground.

Without missing a beat, I placed my hand lightly on the small of her back. She flinched at the contact but didn't pull away.

"That too," I said dryly, steering her toward the grand entrance of the De Luca mansion, "is what married people do."

The mansion loomed ahead of us, all gilded opulence and forced elegance, the kind of place that made its wealth known before you even stepped inside. The doors opened for us before I had to knock, revealing two sharply dressed attendants with polite but empty smiles.

Inside, the air was thick with expensive perfume and the hum of forced conversation. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above, casting fragmented light over a crowd that would sooner slit your throat than shake your hand. I plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing tray, handing one to Celine.

"Drink slowly," I murmured. "The De Lucas love to test limits."

"Good thing I'm not easily impressed," she replied, her lips curving into a small smirk as she sipped.

It didn't take long for Raffaele De Luca to spot us. The eldest son of the family, Raffaele was the picture of calculated charm, his tailored suit clinging to him like armor. He approached with the air of a predator who didn't need to hunt-his prey always came to him.

"Antonio," Raffaele greeted, his voice smooth but sharp as a blade. His eyes flicked to Celine, lingering just long enough to make his point. "And the beautiful Mrs. Genovese. A pleasure, as always."

"This is Raffaele De Luca," I said to Celine, watching her take him in with the same measured coolness she gave everyone. "The family's golden boy. He's always good for a performance."

Raffaele chuckled, raising his glass to me. "Only if the audience is worth it. And you, Mrs. Genovese? Are you enjoying married life?"

Celine's smile was syrupy sweet, but her words had an edge. "I find it... educational."

Raffaele laughed, but his eyes sharpened, studying her like a riddle he couldn't quite solve. "I can see why you two make such a formidable pair."

And just like that, his gaze shifted, signaling a woman to join us. Isabella De Luca, his wife, was just as cunning as her husband, though she wrapped her sharpness in silk and sweetness. She extended her hand to Celine, her smile warm but calculated.

"You're even lovelier than I'd heard," Isabella said, her tone dripping with sincerity that was anything but. "I hope Antonio's treating you as well as he should."

Celine returned the handshake with just enough pressure to assert dominance, her smile never faltering. "Oh, he tries his best."

I sipped my champagne, letting the back-and-forth play out. This was the De Lucas' game-prodding, testing, always looking for weakness. And as much as I hated to admit it, Celine was better at this than I'd anticipated.

Raffaele's lips curved into a sly smile as he swirled his drink. "And what's the secret to keeping such a sharp woman happy, Antonio? Surely you've learned a trick or two by now."

I raised an eyebrow, my voice dry. "The secret is letting her think she's always right. Saves a lot of time."

Celine turned her head slightly toward me, her lips curving into a faint smirk. "That's funny, considering how much time you spend insisting you are."

Isabella let out a laugh that sounded genuine, though I could tell she was studying the dynamic between us like a hawk. "You two are refreshing. Most couples we know in our circle... well, let's just say their conversations aren't quite so lively."

"Lively?" Celine repeated, a feigned innocence in her tone. "Is that what you call it when someone throws a drink?"

Isabella's smile tightened, but she recovered quickly, brushing a perfectly styled strand of hair over her shoulder. "Well, as long as it's a drink and not a knife, I'd say that's progress."

Raffaele chuckled, raising his glass. "To passion, then. It keeps life interesting."

I clinked glasses with him, my grip firm. "Interesting is one way to put it."

Isabella's gaze darted back to Celine. "We should catch up more later. You must have so many stories from married life. Women like us rarely get the chance to talk freely."

Celine tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly in a way that only I caught. "I'm sure we'll find plenty to discuss."

With that, Isabella slipped her arm through Raffaele's, leading him toward another group of guests. As they left, Celine leaned toward me, lowering her voice.

"Do people actually like them, or is this just one big exercise in pretending?"

I took a long sip of champagne, savoring the bite. "With the De Lucas, it's always pretending. But don't let your guard down. They like to poke until they find a soft spot."

"Good luck with that," she muttered, straightening her posture as a new group of faces approached.

We stepped out into the cool night air, the distant murmur of the party fading behind us as we followed Isabella down a stone path toward the front gate. The glow of the mansion's grand lights barely reached here, leaving long, eerie shadows to stretch across the grounds. A cluster of guards stood near the gate, their stiff postures and hushed tones confirming that something serious had gone down.

As we approached, the crowd parted to reveal what had brought the evening to a screeching halt-a man's body, sprawled out on the gravel, his face bloodied and his chest soaked in crimson. His lifeless eyes stared up at the night sky, and the faint metallic tang of blood hung in the air.

Celine stopped beside me, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. "Well," she said dryly, "this is festive."

"Do we know who he is?" I asked Isabella, ignoring Celine's commentary for now.

Isabella nodded grimly. "A courier from one of the smaller families in the city. Name's Gianni. He was supposed to deliver a message to Raffaele tonight."

I frowned, crouching to examine the body closer. "And he didn't make it. What message?"

"Unknown," Isabella admitted. "The envelope he was carrying is missing."

Celine stepped forward, her heels crunching on the gravel. She didn't flinch at the sight of the corpse, instead tilting her head to examine it like it was a problem to solve. "He wasn't killed here," she said, pointing to the lack of blood around the body. "They dumped him. Sloppy work."

One of the guards cleared his throat, looking nervously between Celine and me. "Mrs. Genovese is right. No signs of a struggle here, and the blood's already dried."

I glanced at Celine, her sharp gaze locked on the body. She wasn't wrong-whoever did this wanted the message to be clear. The timing, the placement, the delivery... It was deliberate. A warning.

"This was for us," I muttered, rising to my feet. "Not Raffaele."

Celine's eyes flicked to me, her lips curving into a faint smirk. "Lucky us. Someone went through all this trouble just to get our attention. Feel special yet?"

"Ecstatic," I deadpanned.

Before I could say more, the sound of approaching footsteps drew our attention. Raffaele appeared, his expression dark and stormy. "What the hell is going on out here?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Isabella stepped forward, her tone clipped. "One of your couriers, Gianni, was found dead at the gate. The envelope he was carrying is missing."

Raffaele's jaw clenched, his gaze flicking to the body before narrowing on me. "And you're already playing detective, Antonio?"

Celine cut in before I could respond. "He's better at it than you, clearly. You didn't even notice one of your own was missing."

Raffaele's nostrils flared, but he ignored her, focusing instead on me. "This is an insult to my family. Someone will pay for this."

"And they will," I said calmly, my voice steady despite the growing tension. "But rushing in blind will only make things worse. We need to figure out who's behind this-and why."

Celine's smirk deepened. "Oh, I think we already know why. They want us to lose our cool and make mistakes. Classic play."

Raffaele scowled, his frustration barely contained. "If you have any ideas, now's the time to share them."

I met his glare evenly. "We'll handle this. For now, we should head back inside before the guests start asking questions."

He hesitated, then gave a stiff nod. "Fine. But this isn't over."

As Raffaele stormed off, I turned to Celine. She was watching me with that same calculating look she always wore when things got interesting.

"What now?" she asked, her tone almost casual.

"Now," I said, placing a hand on the small of her back, "we play nice, finish the dinner, and figure out which rat thought they could send us a message."

Celine raised an eyebrow. "I hope they're ready for what happens when the message is received."

I couldn't help the dark smile that tugged at my lips. "So do I."

As we made our way back toward the mansion, the weight of the situation lingered between us, unspoken but palpable. I kept my hand on the small of Celine's back, guiding her, but her shoulders were stiff, her body radiating defiance even in silence. She didn't like being led-by anyone, least of all me.

The faint hum of music and chatter grew louder as we stepped inside, the atmosphere almost absurdly normal considering what we'd just left outside. I leaned in closer to her ear, my voice low. "Try not to pick a fight with Raffaele again tonight."

Celine tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing the edge of my jaw as she whispered back, "Why? Afraid I'll embarrass you, darling?"

I clenched my jaw, keeping my expression neutral as a group of De Luca associates walked past, their eyes briefly flicking toward us. "No, I'm afraid you'll make me lose my patience, dear."

"Patience is overrated," she replied, her tone sweet but cutting. "Besides, I thought you liked my sharp tongue."

"Not when it risks starting a war at a family dinner," I said, my voice dropping even lower. "Keep it in check, Celine."

Her eyes met mine, and there was a spark of challenge there that I recognized all too well. "If you want obedience, Antonio, you married the wrong woman."

"Don't I know it," I muttered under my breath, earning a sly smile from her.

We entered the grand dining hall, where the De Lucas and their key allies were already seated. The long table was laden with an obscene spread of food and champagne, the room filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. But beneath the surface, the tension was tangible-every smile was forced, every laugh a little too loud. These people were sharks, circling and waiting for a drop of blood in the water.

Raffaele was at the head of the table, his expression carefully composed as he gestured for us to join. "Antonio, Celine, so glad you could make it. Please, sit."

I pulled out a chair for Celine, but before she could sit, Raffaele added, "Celine, I must say, that dress is... captivating. Antonio is a lucky man."

She turned to him with a dazzling smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, Raffaele. Antonio reminds me every day just how lucky he is."

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to roll my eyes as she gracefully took her seat. I sat beside her, my hand casually resting on the armrest of her chair, a silent reminder to her and everyone else in the room that we were a united front. Even if it was a façade.

Dinner began, the conversation flowing from mundane pleasantries to subtle power plays disguised as casual remarks. Celine, as always, was a natural at navigating these waters, her wit sharp and her charm disarming. She laughed at the right moments, deflected probing questions with ease, and even managed to get Isabella to crack a genuine smile.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that she was enjoying herself a little too much, pushing boundaries just to see how far she could go.

At one point, Raffaele leaned in toward her, his tone almost conspiratorial. "You know, Celine, I've always wondered-what was it about Antonio that swept you off your feet? Was it his charm? His looks? Or did he simply wear you down?"

Celine tilted her head, pretending to think. "Hmm... I'd say it was his persistence. Antonio doesn't take no for an answer. It's both his greatest strength and his most annoying flaw."

The table chuckled, but I caught the faintest edge in her tone. She was testing me, pushing buttons, and enjoying every second of it.

I leaned closer to her, my hand brushing against hers under the table. "Careful, tesoro," I murmured, my voice low enough for only her to hear. "You're playing with fire."

She turned her head slightly, her lips barely moving as she whispered back, "Good thing I don't burn easily."

I clenched my jaw, forcing a smile as the next course was served. The night was far from over, and if Celine wanted to test my patience, she'd find out just how far I was willing to go to keep up appearances.

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omg I think this is the longest chapter I've ever wrote 😭😭

ugh wherever Celine goes a body drops dead I swear to Godd and her and venom are growing such a special relationship like thats 😭😭

- zio 🍸