Chapter 1 - The Sommelier with the Wrong Hands
Before Tessa could answer, an inconsistency appeared beyond Victor’s shoulder.
A sommelier stood near the swinging doors of the catering kitchen.
At first glance, nothing about him looked unusual. He wore the standard black vest, white shirt, and narrow black tie required by the St. Regis service staff. A silver wine key hung from his apron. His posture was straight. His expression was professional.
But he was holding the wine bottle incorrectly.
Tessa had spent years working catered events. She knew the small details that separated trained service workers from people wearing borrowed uniforms. A real sommelier held a bottle with the label facing outward. He moved carefully through crowds. He watched guests, tables, glasses.
This man watched exits.
And beneath his left cuff, Tessa saw something dark and metallic.
A gun.
Her body went cold.
Victor continued guiding her through the waltz, unaware—or perhaps pretending to be unaware—of the danger approaching from behind him.
The orchestra swelled around them.
The guests kept watching, fascinated by the strange sight of the city’s most feared man dancing with a waitress in a worn uniform.
Tessa’s mouth went dry.
She had come to the ballroom to save Liam.
Now she might be seconds away from watching Victor Moretti die.
She could say nothing.
That would be safer.
Victor was not a good man. Everyone knew that. He ruled an empire built on fear, hidden money, and men who made problems disappear. He had allowed Gabriel Costa to terrorize people like Liam. He was responsible for the world that had driven Tessa into this room.
But the sommelier’s eyes had moved again.
Not toward Victor.
Toward Gabriel.
The gun was meant for both of them.
Tessa made her decision.
“Your sommelier is fake,” she whispered.
Victor’s hand tightened slightly against her waist.
“What?”
“The man by the kitchen doors. He has a weapon.”
Victor did not look.
That frightened her more than if he had.
“Are you certain?” he asked, still moving in perfect time with the music.
“Yes.”
His dark eyes stayed on hers.
“How certain?”
“Certain enough that you should stop dancing.”
Victor’s expression did not change.
But something shifted in his body.
A silent signal.
Gabriel, still standing near the VIP booth, turned his head almost imperceptibly.
Then everything happened at once.
The false sommelier reached beneath his jacket.
Gabriel shouted.
Victor spun Tessa behind him.
The first gunshot cracked through the ballroom.
Blood stained silk much faster than cheap cotton.
That was Tessa’s first thought when a nearby guest collapsed beside the dance floor, clutching his shoulder as red spread across his white dinner jacket.
Then the room exploded into panic.
Champagne glasses shattered.
Women screamed.
Guests pushed toward the exits.
The orchestra ducked behind the stage, instruments clattering against the floor.
Victor pulled Tessa down behind a marble column as two more shots struck the ballroom wall.
“Stay down,” he ordered.
Tessa’s ears rang.
“I’m trying.”
His hand covered the back of her head as another burst of gunfire sent fragments of glass across the floor.
Gabriel and Victor’s guards moved quickly, drawing weapons and forcing guests toward the emergency exits. But the attack had been planned.
A second man appeared near the bar.
Then a third near the stage.
They had entered the gala as staff.
The sommelier had never been alone.
Tessa pressed herself against the marble column, heart hammering so hard she thought it might break through her ribs.
Victor crouched beside her, one arm around her shoulders, his face expressionless despite the chaos.
“You saw him before my men did,” he said.
“I work events,” she replied breathlessly. “I notice uniforms.”
A strange look crossed his face.
Even now, even while bullets struck the room around them, he looked almost impressed.
Then Gabriel appeared beside them.
“Victor, the west exit is compromised.”
Victor’s eyes moved toward the service corridor.
“The kitchen?”
“Clear for now.”
Victor stood.
Tessa grabbed his sleeve.
“I’m not going with you.”
His gaze dropped to her hand.
“You are if you want to survive.”
“My brother—”
“Your brother is not here.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Gabriel’s men were sent to collect him this morning,” Victor said.
Tessa froze.
Gabriel looked away.
The ballroom blurred around her.
“You said they would kill him tomorrow.”
Gabriel’s face remained empty. “Plans change.”
Rage rose through Tessa, hot and sharp.
“You lied to me.”
Victor looked at Gabriel.
His voice was quiet.
“Did you move the collection forward?”
Gabriel did not answer.
Victor’s eyes darkened.
“Did you?”
Gabriel hesitated.
That hesitation told Tessa more than any confession.
Before Victor could speak again, another shot rang out from the kitchen hallway.
Victor pulled Tessa upright and moved her through the corridor behind him.
They ran past overturned service carts, broken trays, and terrified hotel employees hiding behind stainless-steel counters.
At the end of the hallway, Victor stopped beside a locked staff door.
“Open it,” he told Tessa.
“I don’t have a key.”
“You work here.”
“I work catering. I do not work here.”
Victor stared at the keypad.
Then he looked at her.
“Licensed accountant, three catering jobs, no Ivy League degree.”
Tessa blinked.
“What?”
“You said no one would hire you.”
“This is not the time.”
“No,” Victor said, forcing open a nearby cabinet and pulling out an emergency key card. “This is exactly the time to learn whether you are as capable as you claim.”
The door opened.
Beyond it was a narrow service stairwell.
Victor motioned for Tessa to move first.
She did not.
“My brother,” she said again.
Victor looked at her with cold patience.
“If Gabriel has him, I will find him.”
“Why would you help me?”
“Because someone attempted to kill me at my own event,” Victor said. “And because Gabriel lied to my face.”
Tessa stared at him.
Then, for the first time, Victor Moretti’s controlled mask slipped.
Only slightly.
But she saw anger.
Not loud anger.
Not reckless anger.
The kind of anger that made a dangerous man very still.
“Tonight,” Victor said, “we find out who believes they can take what belongs to me.”
Tessa’s face hardened.
“Liam does not belong to you.”
Victor looked directly into her eyes.
May you like
“No,” he said. “He belongs to you.”
Then he led her down the dark stairwell while gunfire echoed above them.
