Chapter 8 - A Dance with the Devil: The Underground Masquerade Gala
We didn't go to Bellori. We went to an underground masquerade gala hosted by a neutral syndicate—a place where violence was strictly forbidden. My manager, flush with Moretti cash, was trying to buy his way into the high society of crime.
I wore a floor-length black silk gown that clung to every curve, with a delicate lace domino mask hiding my features. Mateo wore a tailored black tuxedo, looking like a dark god of death. The moment we stepped into the ballroom, heads turned. The whispers began. Everyone knew the Vitiellos were hunting.
"Dance with me," Mateo whispered, pulling me onto the floor. It was a strategic move; we could scan the room while hiding in plain sight. His hand was hot against the bare skin of my back, pulling me flush against his solid chest. I could feel the hard outline of his concealed weapon.
"I see him," I murmured, my lips brushing Mateo's ear. "By the champagne pyramid. Two guards."
"I see him too," Mateo replied, his grip on my waist tightening. "Listen to me carefully, Tessa. When the music stops, I'm going to create a diversion. You walk straight to the east exit. Do not run. Do not look back. I will meet you at the car."
"Mateo, be careful," I breathed, realizing in that moment that my fear wasn't for myself anymore. It was for him.
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He looked down at me, his gray eyes blazing behind his mask. Right there, in the middle of the crowded dance floor, he dipped his head and kissed me. It wasn't gentle. It was possessive, fierce, and desperate—a promise of survival. My knees went weak, and I kissed him back, the danger surrounding us fading away.
When he pulled away, he smirked. "I always am, Principessa."
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