Chapter 2 - The Sister's WrathWhen I finally pushed open the heavy mahogany doors and slipped back into the Belmont Hotel ballroom, the dazzling lights and suffocating scent of expensive perfume hit me like a physical wave. The string quartet was playing a gentle Vivaldi waltz, and couples were gliding across the imported Italian marble floor.
I scanned the room frantically, looking for the flash of crimson and gold that marked Vanessa’s custom evening gown.
It didn't take long.
She was standing near the grand staircase, laughing a little too brightly as she conversed with a middle-aged city commissioner whose political career was currently dangling by a thread over a zoning scandal. The moment she caught sight of me stepping out from the balcony corridor, her smile tightened into a razor-sharp grimace. She excused herself from the commissioner with a practiced, fluttering gesture and practically marched across the room toward me, her heels clicking angrily against the marble.
"Where on earth have you been?" Vanessa hissed, grabbing my forearm with a grip that was entirely too tight, her fingernails digging through the silk of the red dress. "I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to turn around and find my own sister missing while I'm talking to the most influential men in this city?"
"I needed some air," I said quietly, trying to pull my arm away without making a scene. "It was too crowded inside."
"Air?" Vanessa scoffed, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down. "You look a mess. Your hair is out of place. Did you run into someone?"
Before I could answer, a commotion near the main entrance drew the attention of the entire room. The murmurs rolled across the ballroom like a wave. Heads turned, politicians stopped talking mid-sentence, and socialites parted like the Red Sea.
Carter Battalia was walking back into the ballroom, flanked by two armed men in dark suits. But he wasn't looking at the politicians, and he wasn't looking at the city officials who immediately scrambled to catch his eye.
His dark gaze swept across the room—and locked directly onto me.
Vanessa, misinterpreting the direction of his attention entirely, let out a breathless, triumphant gasp. Her fingers instantly released my arm, and she smoothed down the front of her gold-threaded gown, her face instantly transforming into a radiant, breathless masterpiece of seduction.
"Oh, my God," Vanessa whispered, her voice trembling with excitement. "He's coming over here. Diana, move. Get out of the way. Don't ruin this."
She stepped directly in front of me, planting her feet firmly on the marble, beaming her brightest, most practiced smile as Carter approached.
I took two steps backward, more than happy to fade back into the shadows, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watched the scene unfold.
Carter stopped right in front of us.
Vanessa’s smile widened into something blinding. "Mr. Battalia," she purred, extending a manicured hand toward him. "I'm Vanessa Sterling. I was hoping we might have a moment to discuss the preservation project for the old textile warehouses down on—"
Carter didn't take her hand.
He didn't even look at her outstretched fingers.
His eyes, dark and unyielding, bypassed Vanessa completely as he stepped around her, his tall, imposing frame closing the distance between us until he stood towering directly over me.
The entire ballroom went dead silent. The string quartet stopped playing. Fifty pairs of high-society eyes snapped toward us in stunned, horrified disbelief.
Vanessa’s hand froze mid-air, her smile cracking like dry porcelain.
"Miss Sterling," Carter said, his voice carrying clearly across the silent room as he finally acknowledged my sister with a polite, glacial nod. Then, his gaze shifted back to me, softening instantly into something intensely personal.
"You dropped this on the balcony," Carter said.
He lifted his hand. Resting in his palm was a small, silver hairpin I had used to pin up my hair—one I hadn't even realized I'd lost.
My face burned with a heat so intense I thought I might faint. Every single person in the room was staring at us—at the untouchable king of Philadelphia handing a humble gallery assistant a hairpin like it was a crown jewel.
"I..." I stammered, my fingers trembling as I reached out to take it from his hand. Our skin brushed for a fraction of a second, and a jolt of electricity raced up my arm. "Thank you."
Carter didn't pull his hand away immediately. He let his thumb brush softly against my palm before curling his fingers shut.
"Don't wander off again, Diana," he said quietly, loud enough only for me—and the shell-shocked people standing immediately around us—to hear. "The night is still young, and we have unfinished business."
Without another word, Carter turned on his heel and walked toward the private VIP exit at the back of the ballroom, his guards falling into step behind him like clockwork.
For three seconds, absolute, tomb-like silence reigned over the room.
May you like
Then, Vanessa turned slowly to face me. The mask of polite society had completely vanished from her face, replaced by a mask of pure, unadulterated venom.
"What," Vanessa whispered, her voice shaking with rage, "did you just do?"
