Chapter 5 - The Woman in the Red DressThe Aurelia Foundation Gala had been planned for months.
Canceling it after the poisoned pastries would reveal weakness to enemies who watched every Moretti decision. Holding it would place hundreds of people inside the hotel while a killer remained somewhere in the building.
Dante chose to proceed.
Mara called the decision insane.
“You cannot allow fear to control every public action,” he told her.
“Fear isn’t controlling me. Common sense is waving both hands.”
“The gala creates an opportunity.”
“For what?”
“To draw out whoever is helping Victor.”
Mara stared at him. “You’re using a ballroom full of donors as bait.”
“No. I am using myself.”
“And Lena?”
“She will remain upstairs.”
Lena heard the conversation.
She walked into Dante’s office wearing pajamas and placed both hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of Mara.
Then she pointed at herself and toward the ballroom floor below.
Dante shook his head. “No.”
Lena pointed again.
“No.”
She picked up a pencil and wrote on a notepad.
MAMA DANCED THERE.
Dante read the sentence twice.
Mara sat beside Lena.
“You remember the ballroom?”
Lena nodded.
“Do you remember the night your mother died?”
The child’s hand stopped moving.
Dante stepped forward. “Enough.”
Lena pushed the pad toward Mara.
RED DRESS.
Mara looked at the photograph from the vent. Sofia had been wearing red.
“Was your mother at a party before the car ride?”
Lena nodded.
The gala was not simply bait.
It might recreate the final place where Lena had seen her mother alive.
Dante resisted for another hour.
Eventually, he agreed to let Lena attend for fifteen minutes under heavy protection.
That decision created a different problem.
Mara owned no gala dress.
A stylist arrived with garment bags and the nervous expression of a woman informed she would be dressing someone outside her preferred size range.
She examined Mara’s body as though calculating structural damage.
“We may need shapewear,” she said.
“We may not.”
“It creates a smoother silhouette.”
“My silhouette is already smooth. It is also round.”
The stylist forced a smile.
The first three dresses were clearly designed to hide Mara.
Black fabric.
High necklines.
Heavy sleeves.
Shapes resembling elegant tents.
Lena rejected each by shaking her head.
Finally, she reached into the last garment bag and pulled out a deep red gown.
The dress wrapped across Mara’s waist and flowed over her hips. Its neckline was elegant without being revealing. The sleeves were sheer, embroidered with tiny gold stars.
The stylist hesitated.
“That color may attract attention.”
Mara met her eyes in the mirror. “I have spent thirty-four years attracting attention by entering rooms. I may as well enjoy the color.”
Lena clapped silently.
Dante saw Mara at the top of the staircase two hours later.
He stopped walking.
His reaction was subtle.
A pause.
A tightening of his hand around his cuff link.
A shift in his breathing.
Yet Mara felt it from across the room.
Lena wore a gold dress and held Mara’s hand.
Dante approached.
“You look…”
“Be careful,” Mara warned. “Your reputation depends on the next word.”
His gaze moved slowly over her.
“Unforgettable.”
Heat climbed into Mara’s cheeks.
Luca appeared behind him. “He practiced that.”
Dante looked at Luca.
Luca disappeared.
The ballroom glittered beneath crystal chandeliers. Politicians, business leaders, actors, socialites, and people Mara recognized from news reports filled the room.
Every conversation changed when Dante entered.
Men straightened.
Women smiled.
Cameras turned.
Mara felt hundreds of eyes evaluate her body, her dress, and her place beside him.
Whispers began almost immediately.
“Who is she?”
“The nanny.”
“No, the cook.”
“Moretti brought the help?”
A tall blonde woman approached.
She wore silver silk and diamonds large enough to require security of their own.
“Dante,” she said, kissing the air beside his cheek. “You should have warned me you were bringing company.”
“Celeste Romano,” Dante said. “This is Mara Bell.”
Celeste’s gaze traveled openly down Mara’s figure.
“How refreshing.”
Mara smiled. “Is it?”
“Dante usually prefers women with a more disciplined lifestyle.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
Mara touched his arm.
She did not need rescue.
“I own three types of rolling pins,” Mara said. “Discipline is practically my religion.”
Celeste laughed thinly.
“I meant physical discipline.”
“I know.”
The warmth vanished from Mara’s smile.
“You meant to insult me while leaving yourself enough room to pretend you were misunderstood.”
Celeste’s face tightened.
Mara continued gently. “It must be exhausting, carrying cruelty inside such expensive fabric.”
Several nearby guests stopped pretending not to listen.
Dante’s eyes gleamed.
Celeste turned to him. “Are you allowing your staff to speak to me this way?”
“Mara does not require my permission to defend herself.”
Celeste left.
Lena squeezed Mara’s hand.
“You have excellent taste in enemies,” Mara told Dante.
“She is my cousin.”
“That explains the emotional damage.”
Music began.
Dante offered his hand to Lena.
She shook her head and pulled Mara forward instead.
“I don’t dance,” Mara whispered.
Dante extended his hand to her.
“You destroyed a five-thousand-dollar mixer without fear.”
“The mixer didn’t have feet.”
Neither did half the men in this room, judging by their dancing.”
Mara laughed and accepted his hand.
He led her onto the floor.
Dante moved with controlled confidence. Mara stepped on his shoe within ten seconds.
“Sorry.”
“I have survived worse.”
“Was it a woman in a red dress?”
His gaze deepened.
“Yes.”
For a moment, the ballroom disappeared.
His hand rested at Mara’s waist.
She felt protected, desired, and dangerously visible.
Then Lena pulled away from Luca.
Her face had gone pale.
She stared toward a service doorway at the edge of the ballroom.
A man stood there wearing a waiter’s uniform.
His face was partially hidden.
On his hand gleamed a silver wolf.
Lena froze.
Mara saw him too.
“Dante.”
The man turned and ran.
Security moved instantly.
Guests screamed as guards crossed the ballroom.
Lena began shaking.
Mara rushed toward her.
The child clung to her dress.
“It’s okay,” Mara said. “I’ve got you.”
Dante issued orders into his radio.
The waiter disappeared through the red service door.
Lena saw the door close.
A sound tore from her throat.
“Don’t!”
Every person near them stopped.
Lena’s eyes filled with terror.
She gripped Mara with both hands.
“Don’t go.”
The words were rough and small.
But they were words.
Dante turned.
His face broke open with shock.
Lena buried herself against Mara.
“Don’t go,” she repeated. “He’ll hurt you.”
Mara wrapped both arms around her.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Across the ballroom, Dante watched his daughter speak for the first time in two years.
Joy did not enter his expression.
Because Lena had not spoken to ask for her father.
May you like
She had spoken to warn Mara.
And the man with the wolf ring had escaped into the hidden levels of the hotel.
