Chapter 4 - Haute Couture and Hidden BladesThe transformation began at 8:00 AM sharp.
A sleek, bulletproof black SUV idling outside my cramped apartment complex drew the stares of every neighbor on the block. Two men in sharp suits stepped out, carrying garment bags from Fifth Avenue’s most exclusive boutiques. By noon, I was standing in front of a three-way mirror in a penthouse apartment so vast and luxurious it made my head spin, wearing a emerald-silk evening gown that cost more than my old car.
“Breathe, Lena,” a smooth, chillingly polite voice echoed from the doorway.
Dante leaned against the doorframe, wearing a charcoal three-piece suit that fit him like armor. He looked me up and down, his dark eyes evaluating every detail.
“The dress fits. Good. But your posture is too rigid. You look like you're standing in front of a firing squad.”
“I feel like I’m standing in front of one,” I retorted, clutching the edge of the silk fabric. “Dante—Mr. Vance—this is insane. Look at this place! There are panic rooms behind the bookshelves! There are armed guards downstairs! What are we even doing tonight?”
“Tonight, we attend the annual mayoral charity gala at the Grand Meridian Hotel,” Dante said smoothly, walking closer. He reached out, his warm fingers brushing against my collarbone as he adjusted a diamond pendant resting against my neck—a piece of jewelry that weighed more than a newborn baby. “The man who ordered your husband’s death, Marcus Vance—no relation, unfortunately—will be there. He thinks he’s untouchable. Tonight, you walk in on my arm. You smile, you sip champagne, and you look like the luckiest woman alive.”
“And what do I do when I see him?” I asked, my breath catching as his hand brushed near my throat.
“You do nothing,” Dante whispered, his face inches from mine. His scent—sandalwood and expensive bourbon—overwhelmed my senses. “You let him look at you. You let him wonder who the new woman by my side is. And you let me handle the chess pieces.”
An hour later, we stepped out of the private elevator into the blinding flashbulbs of the city press.
Paparazzi screamed Dante’s name, their cameras firing like rapid-fire artillery. For a second, panic seized me. I stumbled on my heels.
May you like
Before I could hit the marble floor, a heavy, unyielding arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me firmly against Dante’s side. He flashed the press a cool, lethal smile that made every camera flash twice as fast.
“Smile, Lena,” he murmured in my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Show them you belong to the dragon now.”
