Chapter 3 - The Barrington EstateThe iron gates of the Moretti estate in Barrington loomed like the portcullis of a medieval fortress against the crisp autumn night. Rows of torches flickered along the winding gravel driveway, casting long, dancing shadows across manicured hedges and black Mercedes sedans parked three deep.
Inside the grand ballroom, classical violin music mingled with the murmur of Chicago’s elite. Politicians, judges, syndicate capos, and society matrons mingled beneath towering crystal chandeliers, sipping vintage champagne and whispering about the scandal of the century.
Julian and Serena had made an entrance ten minutes earlier. I knew this because Penny—who had managed to score an invite through her family’s PR firm—had texted me play-by-play updates.
‘Julian is wearing a smug white tuxedo jacket. Serena is wearing a custom Dior gown that looks suspiciously like a bridal preview. Your mother is currently trying to corner Senator Vance near the bar.’
I stood in the private antechamber just off the main ballroom, staring at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling gilded mirror.
The obsidian silk gown from Atelier Vane clung to my curves like liquid shadow, its low back cut with geometric precision, while the subtle emerald beadwork along the collarbone caught the light like crushed jewels. My dark hair was swept up into a severe, elegant chignon, exposing the sharp line of my jaw and a pair of heavy emerald drop earrings Nikolai had quietly had delivered to my apartment that afternoon.
I didn't look like the dependable, overlooked older sister anymore.
I looked like a tempest.
The heavy double oak doors to the antechamber clicked open. Nikolai stepped inside, wearing a pristine black tuxedo with a midnight-blue silk lapel. His dark eyes swept over me, and for a fraction of a second, the cool, calculating mob boss vanished, replaced by a man utterly captivated by what he saw.
“Well?” I asked, turning slowly so the silk caught the amber light. “Does the dress meet syndicate standards?”
Nikolai walked toward me, his steps unhurried, until he stood just inches away. The sheer physical presence he projected was overwhelming, yet I didn't back down. He reached out, his knuckles brushing lightly against my bare collarbone before adjusting the hang of my earring with surprising tenderness.
“It exceeds them,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Are you ready to burn their world down, Evelyn?”
“I have the matches,” I replied.
The double doors leading into the ballroom swung open, and the master of ceremonies’ amplified voice rang out across the hall.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Presenting the head of the Moretti family... Nikolai Moretti, and his fiancée, Miss Evelyn Hart.”
The collective intake of breath inside the ballroom was loud enough to drown out the string quartet.
May you like
For three seconds, the entire room went completely, terrifyingly dead silent.
Nikolai offered his arm. I placed my hand gently over his forearm, feeling the steady, iron-clad muscle beneath his sleeve, and together, we stepped through the doorway into the blinding glare of the lights.
