Chapter 6 - The Black-Tie Masquerade—Walking Hand-in-Hand into the Viper's Nest
Forty-eight hours after the assault on the manor, Gabriel executed his countermove.
Viktor Vane was hosting his annual high-society charity auction at the Grand Plaza Hotel in downtown Manhattan—a public front used to launder millions through private art sales among corrupt oligarchs and politicians.
If we wanted the ledger that linked Spencer, Vane, and the murder of my father, it was hidden in the private vault beneath the Grand Plaza ballroom.
The theme of the evening was a Venetian Masquerade.
I stood before the full-length mirror in the presidential suite Gabriel had booked under an alias two blocks away. I wore a backless, midnight-black gown embroidered with silver thread that clung to my curves like liquid shadow. On my face was an intricate silver filigree mask that concealed the upper half of my features while highlighting my dark eyes and crimson lips.
Gabriel stepped up behind me. He wore a matching black tuxedo with a velvet lapel and a sharp, obsidian mask that made him look like a phantom king.
His hands settled onto my bare hips, his warmth sending a delicious shiver down my spine.
“You look dangerous,” he murmured near my ear, his breath tickling my neck.
“I feel terrified,” I admitted honestly, meeting his gaze in the reflection. “What if Spencer is there? What if Vane recognizes you?”
“Spencer will be there,” Gabriel said calmly. “He’s broke, desperate, and looking for a way to save his neck. And as for Vane... he knows I’m coming. He just doesn't know how I’m going to tear his empire down from the inside.”
Gabriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a dazzling diamond necklace. The central stone was a flawless emerald the size of a sparrow’s egg, surrounded by platinum vines. He fastened it around my neck, his knuckles gently brushing my collarbone.
“What is this?” I breathed, admiring the weight of the gem.
“A piece belonging to the Costa family,” he said softly. “My mother wore it. Tonight, you wear it as my equal. Walk beside me, Shantel. Let them see who holds your loyalty.”
When we arrived at the Grand Plaza, the grand ballroom was a spectacle of decadent excess. Hundreds of masked guests sipped vintage champagne beneath crystal chandeliers, whispering secrets behind ornate feathered and gilded masks.
Gabriel held my hand, our fingers tightly intertwined. Every head in the room turned as we entered. Even with masks, Gabriel’s imposing presence and predatory grace commanded immediate submission.
“Costa,” a cold, raspy voice sounded from the VIP balcony above.
We looked up. Viktor Vane stood by the velvet railing, surrounded by four armed bodyguards in tailored suits. He was a man in his late fifties with slicked-back gray hair, cold reptilian eyes, and a deep scar running from his ear to his jawline.
Vane looked down at Gabriel, then his eyes locked onto me, lingering on the emerald necklace.
“I see you brought a guest, Gabriel,” Vane called out with a mocking smile. “Julian Vance’s little girl. I must say, she cleans up much better than her father ever did.”
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I felt Gabriel’s hand tighten around mine, his knuckles turning white. The fury radiating from him was palpable, yet his face remained a carved mask of stone.
“Enjoy the party, Viktor,” Gabriel replied, his voice calm, low, and terrifyingly clear. “Because before this night ends, you’ll be on your knees begging for the mercy you never gave Julian.”
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