ARIA

“Champagne,” Dante says, taking two flutes from a passing waiter. He hands me one. “Drink.”

I do, grateful for something to occupy my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have engaged with them. I should have just walked away...”

“Don’t apologize.” His voice was firm. “You stood up for yourself. That’s exactly what you should have done.”

“But the scene...”

“It was necessary. And long overdue, from the sound of it.” He turns me to ...