Chapter 17 - A Symphony of Deception
The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel glittered with crystal chandeliers and the clinking of champagne flutes.
It was the annual Metropolitan Arts Gala, a masquerade of high society where corrupt politicians, hedge fund billionaires, and mob bosses rubbed shoulders in velvet and silk, hiding behind masks of gold and lace.
Julian stood near the marble balcony, his arm possessively wrapped around Josie’s waist. He was wearing an Italian-cut tuxedo, the sling for his wounded arm concealed beneath a tailored silk cape.
Beside him, Josie was a vision in emerald silk, her face half-hidden by a delicate filigree mask of black iron. But beneath her gown, taped against the skin of her ribs, was a small, cold electronic transmitter—the wire Evelyn Miller had provided.
Except Josie hadn't turned it on. Not yet.
"You're tense," Julian murmured into her ear, his lips brushing the delicate curve of her jaw, sending an agonizing wave of guilt straight to her heart. "Does your arm still hurt from the glass?"
"I’m fine," she whispered, looking out over the crowd. "Who are all these people?"
"Vultures waiting for me to fall," Julian said with chilling indifference. "Castiglione is here. The Russian envoy is on the terrace. They think the police raids this morning broke my supply lines."
"Julian," Josie said, turning to face him, her fingers gripping his lapels. "The District Attorney came to the house."
Julian didn't blink. His expression didn't even shift.
"I know," he said softly. "Miller is Castiglione’s goddaughter. She doesn't want justice, Josephine. She wants my empire handed to her family on a federal platter."
Josie gasped, her heart stalling in her chest. "She told me—"
"I know what she offered you," Julian said, his eyes darkening with a raw, terrifying intensity. "She offered you Poppy’s life. She told you I was using you."
"Why didn't you stop me?" Josie whispered, tears stinging behind her mask. "I could be recording you right now!"
"Because I trust you," Julian said, his voice dropping into a register so pure, so unguarded, it shattered every defense she had left. "And because if you decide that sending me to prison is what keeps your daughter safe... I won't stop you."
Before Josie could speak, the orchestra on the stage came to an abrupt stop.
The conductor stepped down, bowing to the crowd. An announcement crackled over the speakers: *“Ladies and gentlemen, to honor our generous patron, Don Castiglione, we invite a guest performance on the Steinway grand.”*
Marco strode out onto the stage, a cruel grin spreading across his scarred face. He took the microphone.
"We hear the new Mrs. Moretti has exceptional talent," Marco announced, his eyes locking onto Josie across the crowded ballroom. "Why don't you come play for us, Josie? Show high society what twenty years of South Side dive bars sound like."
A low murmur of chuckles rippled through the elite crowd. It was an ambush—a deliberate public humiliation designed to break her composure and Julian’s standing.
Julian stepped forward, his eyes flashing with murderous intent, his hand reaching for his side. "I will tear his throat out—"
"No," Josie said softly, catching his hand.
She pulled off her black iron mask, revealing her unblemished, breathtaking face to the entire room.
May you like
"Let me," she whispered.
***
