Chapter 17 - The Gown and the GunThe private boutique on Fifth Avenue was locked down tightly by Moretti guards. Inside, racks of designer gowns shimmered under the golden lights, but Clara stood staring at a sleek, backless crimson dress that looked like it was spun from liquid fire.
"Try it on," Rico said, leaning against the velvet sofa while holding a glass of sparkling water.
"If I wear this, I'll look less like a grieving aunt and more like an assassin," Clara remarked, running her fingers over the silk fabric.
"That's precisely the look we're going for," Rico replied smoothly. "Tonight, every eye in the Plaza Hotel will be on us. You need to look untouchable."
Twenty minutes later, Clara stepped out of the fitting room. The crimson gown fit her body with devastating precision, highlighting her sharp features, elegant posture, and the fierce, independent fire in her eyes. Even Rico, a man accustomed to luxury and beauty, momentarily lost his breath as he looked at her.
"Well?" Clara challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Will the syndicate buy it?"
"They won't just buy it," Rico said, standing up slowly and walking toward her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stunning, vintage diamond ring that had belonged to his grandmother. He slipped it onto her ring finger. "They'll be terrified of you."
"A fake engagement ring," Clara murmured, looking down at the sparkling diamond. "Is this part of the tactical strategy?"
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"Everything is tactical, Clara," Rico whispered, his face inches from hers. "Including how I look at you tonight."
An hour later, the armored black limousine pulled away from the estate, heading straight into the heart of Manhattan toward the Plaza Hotel, where the most dangerous criminals in America were waiting for them.
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