Chapter 4 - The Gala
The transformation took six hours. A team of stylists, sworn to absolute secrecy, descended upon the guest suite. By the time they were finished, I barely recognized the woman in the full-length mirror.
The dress was a custom emerald-green silk gown that clung to my curves before cascading to the floor. It cleverly featured a dramatic side slit that accommodated my wrapped ankle and a sleek, black designer walking cane Luca had specially ordered. My hair was swept up into an elegant, messy twist, and a diamond necklace—a family heirloom Luca had sent to my room—rested against my collarbone.
When I slowly walked to the top of the grand staircase, Luca was waiting at the bottom. The memory of our first encounter on these stairs flashed through my mind, but tonight was entirely different.
He wore a custom black tuxedo that made him look dangerous, powerful, and utterly breathtaking. When he looked up and saw me, he stopped breathing. I could see his chest rise and freeze.
He took the stairs two at a time to meet me halfway, offering his arm. "You are spectacular," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "They won't be looking at anyone else."
The ride to the gala in the back of the Maybach was tense. Luca held my hand the entire time, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my skin.
When the car doors opened, the flashbulbs were blinding. Reporters shouted questions, throwing Isabella’s name into the air like weapons. Luca ignored them all. He placed a firm, protective hand on the small of my back, guiding me up the red carpet with steady confidence.
Inside the ballroom, the silence was deafening. A hundred of the city's most elite residents stopped talking and stared as we entered.
And then, stepping out from the crowd like a venomous snake, was Isabella. She wasn't supposed to be here, but she had used her family's connections to secure an invite. She wore a red dress that screamed for attention, but her eyes were filled with pure poison.
"Well, well," Isabella sneered loudly enough for the surrounding tables to hear. "The help cleans up nicely. Did you borrow that dress from the lost and found?"
Luca stepped in front of me, shielding me from her view. His voice was icy enough to freeze the champagne in the glasses nearby. "Isabella. You have five seconds to leave this building before my security removes you. And if you ever speak to Emma again, destroying your father's company will be the least of your worries."
Isabella laughed, a brittle, desperate sound. "You're throwing away a dynasty for a glorified babysitter! The board will oust you by Monday, Luca!"
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"Let them try," Luca challenged, his gaze sweeping the silent room. He turned back to me, ignoring everyone else, and gently tilted my chin up. Right there, in front of the press, the board, and his furious ex-fiancée, he leaned down and kissed me.
It wasn't a polite peck. It was a searing, possessing kiss that staked a claim for the entire world to see.
