Chapter 2 - THE DEAL WITH THE DEVIL IN A TAILORED SUIT
The air in the Grandon Hotel ballroom seemed to completely evaporate as Nico Rossi closed the distance between us. Every step he took was measured, predatory, and entirely unbothered by the hundreds of eyes tracking his movement. I had spent three years dating his son, but in all that time, I had only been in Nico’s presence a handful of times. He was a phantom of immense wealth and power, a man who built empires and crushed rivals before his morning espresso. Now, that same man was walking toward me, and my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I stood my ground, my fingers gripping the delicate fabric of my crimson gown. The dress was a weapon, clinging to my curves in a way that screamed confidence I was only pretending to possess. When Nico finally stopped a mere two feet away from me, the sheer physical presence of him was overwhelming. Up close, he was even more striking than I remembered. Silver threaded elegantly through his dark hair at the temples, and his jaw looked as though it had been carved from granite. His eyes, a piercing shade of stormy gray, locked onto mine, analyzing, searching, and missing absolutely nothing.
"Miss Luna Vance," Nico said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that seemed to vibrate straight through the floorboards and up my spine. "I must admit, seeing you here is an unexpected development. Especially considering the rather frantic phone call I received from my son earlier today, claiming you two were going through a 'minor rough patch.'"
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. "A minor rough patch? Is that what Liam is calling it? I suppose finding him buried in my own bed with my sister qualifies as a slight misunderstanding in his world."
For a fraction of a second, something dark and dangerous flashed in Nico's stormy eyes. The impeccably composed facade didn't break, but the temperature around him seemed to drop ten degrees. "He slept with your sister. In your bed." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact, processed and immediately cataloged into his sharp mind.
"Yes," I replied, lifting my chin, refusing to let the sting of tears return. "And they found it highly amusing. They think I'm weak, Mr. Rossi. They think I’m going to quietly disappear and lick my wounds while they parade around high society."
Nico tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over my red dress, taking in the defiant posture I had adopted. "And clearly, you have no intention of doing any such thing. So, tell me, Luna. What exactly is your objective tonight? You did not wear a dress that could stop traffic and march into a room full of sharks without a plan."
I took a deep, steadying breath. This was it. The moment of madness. "I came here to show Liam exactly what he threw away. I came here to make him feel as small, as humiliated, and as insignificant as he made me feel. And I realized that the only way to truly shatter his fragile ego was to walk into this ballroom on the arm of the one man he is terrified of. The one man he knows is infinitely better than him."
Nico's lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "You want to use me to exact revenge on my own son."
"I am asking you to escort me to your table," I corrected, my voice trembling only slightly. "I am asking you to let them see that I am not broken. From what I understand, you don't exactly approve of Liam's reckless lifestyle anyway. Consider this a mutual lesson in consequences."
The silence stretched between us. The surrounding chatter of the gala had faded into a dull roar in my ears. Nico stared down at me, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he was going to turn his back and walk away, leaving me stranded in a sea of judgment. Instead, he slowly extended his right arm.
"My son is a fool," Nico said softly, his voice meant only for me. "He has always lacked vision, discipline, and taste. Tonight, I will happily demonstrate the magnitude of his latest failure."
I slid my trembling hand through his arm, the heat of his body radiating through his custom Tom Ford suit. The moment my fingers touched him, a strange, electric jolt sparked between us, startling me. But there was no time to analyze it. Nico placed his large hand over mine, securing my grip, and together, we turned toward the center of the room.
The walk to the Rossi family table was nothing short of cinematic. As we moved through the crowd, conversations died out. Glasses paused midway to lips. The whispers began almost immediately, a hissing snake pit of gossip. I kept my head held high, feeding off the immovable strength radiating from the man beside me.
When we finally reached the table, the tableau before us was a masterpiece of shock. Liam’s jaw had practically unhinged, his face draining of all color until he looked sick. Beside him, Amber’s smug, triumphant smile had completely vanished, replaced by a mask of sheer panic. She instinctively shrank back in her chair. Even Valentina, Nico’s ex-wife and a woman notoriously difficult to rattle, sat frozen with her champagne flute suspended in mid-air.
"Good evening, everyone," Nico announced smoothly, pulling out an empty chair for me with effortless chivalry. "I believe you all know Luna. She will be joining us for the duration of the evening."
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"Dad... what is this?" Liam stammered, his voice cracking as he stared from me to his father. "What is she doing with you?"
Nico settled into the chair beside me, resting his arm on the back of my seat in a gesture that was undeniably protective, yet aggressively possessive. He fixed his son with a look so cold it could freeze the sun. "She is in the presence of a man who actually knows how to treat a woman of her caliber. Now, close your mouth, Liam. You’re embarrassing yourself."
