Chapter 6 - A Waltz with Wolves
The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a sea of black tuxedos, silk gowns, and dripping crystal chandeliers. To the outside world, this was the city’s most elite philanthropic gala. To those who knew the truth, it was the annual gathering of the modern mafia elite.
Every entrance was monitored by private security. Every waiter was carrying a concealed sidearm.
When the grand double doors opened, the orchestra seemed to lose its rhythm for a split second as heads turned in unison.
I walked in with Evelyn on my arm.
She was breathtaking.
She wore a custom-fitted emerald green silk gown that cascaded to the floor, her dark hair pinned up with vintage diamond clips, exposing the elegant line of her neck. She carried herself with the poise of an empress, her chin high, her gaze steady, showing neither fear nor hesitation.
“They’re all staring,” she whispered under her breath, her lips barely moving behind a radiant smile.
“Let them stare,” I murmured, guiding her down the grand marble staircase. “They’re looking at a woman who should have been dead twenty-five years ago. You are their worst nightmare made flesh.”
“I feel like I’m walking into a cage of lions.”
“They are lions, Evelyn,” I said, looking down at her, meeting her brilliant green eyes. “But you are with the king.”
We reached the center of the ballroom floor just as a slow waltz began. I took her right hand in mine, slipped my left arm around the small of her back, and pulled her smoothly into the dance.
Her body was warm against mine, perfectly synchronizing with my steps. For a few measures, the danger, the syndicate, and the impending war faded into the background. There was only the rustle of her dress, the faint scent of jasmine in her hair, and the fierce, electric rhythm of our hearts beating together.
“You dance well for a ruthless crime boss, Mr. Voss,” she teased softly, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
“I had to learn how to keep my balance while people tried to kill me,” I replied, spinning her effortlessly before pulling her back against my chest. “You’re not doing too bad yourself, Miss Vance.”
“My mother taught me. She said no matter where life threw me, I had to walk like I owned the ground beneath my feet.”
“She was a wise woman.”
As the dance concluded, the crowd parted, and Damian Voss approached us, flanked by Marcus Castillo and two towering bodyguards.
“Adrien,” Damian smiled, his gaze turning to Evelyn with venomous curiosity. “Introduce us to your lovely companion.”
Evelyn didn't wait for me to speak. She took half a step forward, meeting Damian’s gaze with icy elegance.
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“I am Evelyn Vance,” she said, her voice carrying clearly across the silent circle of spectators. “Daughter of Julian and Clara Vance. And I have returned to audit the books.”
Damian’s smile froze. The tension in the ballroom became so sharp it could have severed steel.
