Chapter 2 - The Ten-Thousand-Dollar Show
The Christmas party in the grand ballroom of the Casaro estate was in full swing by the time I descended the grand marble staircase. The room was dripping in excessive wealth—towering fir trees adorned with Swarovski crystal ornaments, waiters carrying trays of caviar, and hundreds of Brooklyn’s elite mingling under blinding chandeliers.
I moved through the crowd with a terrifying, icy calm. I was no longer the grateful, naive girl who had been saved by the mobster’s son. I was the daughter of the man who held the Don’s life in his hands. I was untouchable, and I knew it.
Across the room, standing near an ice sculpture that was slowly melting onto a velvet tablecloth, I spotted them. Nico and Chloe. They were holding champagne flutes, laughing together with a group of Nico’s wealthy, obnoxious friends. Chloe looked absolutely radiant in a silver sequined gown, playing the supportive best friend while secretly reveling in my impending humiliation.
I grabbed a fresh glass of champagne from a passing tray and walked directly toward them. The red silk of my dress parted the crowd like the Red Sea.
Nico saw me first. The predatory, manufactured warmth instantly flooded his handsome face. He stepped away from the group and reached out for me, wrapping a possessive arm around my waist. The touch that used to make my heart flutter now made my skin crawl with violent revulsion.
"There you are, mia bella," Nico purred, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I went to my room to grab your present, but you disappeared. Are you having a good time?"
"I’m having an unforgettable time," I replied, my voice perfectly smooth. I looked at Chloe, who offered me a sickly-sweet, encouraging smile.
"You look stunning, Myra," Chloe lied effortlessly. "Red is definitely your color. Isn't it, Nico?"
"It’s perfect," Nico agreed, his eyes darkening with a hunger that I now knew was fueled entirely by a financial wager. "I can't wait for tonight."
"Neither can I," I said, stepping gracefully out of his embrace. I turned toward the small stage at the front of the ballroom, where a jazz band had been playing soft holiday music. "In fact, I think tonight requires a toast. Don't you?"
Nico chuckled, entirely oblivious to the trap closing around his throat. "A toast? To us?"
"To gratitude," I corrected him.
Before he could process the word, I walked briskly to the stage, climbed the two small steps, and signaled the bandleader to cut the music. I tapped the microphone. The sharp feedback echoed through the massive ballroom, instantly killing the chatter of three hundred guests. Every face turned toward me.
Down in the front row of the crowd, Nico looked confused but amused. Chloe stood beside him, her brow furrowing in sudden anxiety. In the shadows near the back of the room, standing completely still with a glass of whiskey in his hand, was Leo Casaro. He gave me a single, imperceptible nod.
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"Good evening, everyone," I said, my voice projecting crystal clear through the speakers. "I know I am not a Casaro, but Nico has made me feel like family for the past eight months. And at Christmas, I believe it is important to acknowledge the gifts we have been given. Especially the very expensive ones."
Nico beamed, puffing his chest out. He thought I was about to publicly thank him for his charity. He thought I was playing right into his hands.
