Chapter 12 - The Gala of Thieves
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The Banco di Napoli looked less like a financial institution and more like a royal palace. Searchlights cut through the rainy night sky, illuminating the massive marble columns and the fleet of luxury vehicles depositing the elite of southern Italy onto the red carpet.
Gio offered his arm as they stepped out of the armored limousine.
Isadora took it, forcing her trembling hands to remain steady. Flashbulbs blinded them as they walked past the paparazzi, the ruthless mafia boss and his stunning, mysterious companion capturing every eye.
They entered the grand lobby. It was a sea of silk, champagne, and quiet, dangerous money. Armed guards in tactical suits stood at every exit, their presence a stark reminder that this was a fortress.
"Smile," Gio murmured, placing his hand possessively on the small of her back as they navigated the crowd. "You are a billionaire heiress bored with the party. Act like they are entirely beneath you."
Isadora lifted her chin, adopting a cold, aristocratic mask. She accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, using the reflection in the crystal to map the room.
"The elevators to the lower vault are behind the main staircase," Isadora whispered, leaning close to Gio’s ear, making it look like a lover’s secret. "There are two guards stationed at the doors."
"Luca and Matteo are already in the building," Gio replied softly. "They will handle the guards. I need to make an appearance with the bank director to draw the security chief’s attention. When my hand leaves your back, you move."
Isadora’s heart hammered against her ribs. She took a slow sip of her champagne, nodding once.
A moment later, the bank director, a sweating, nervous man, approached them.
"Signore Rossi, what an honor," the director beamed, bowing slightly.
"Director," Gio smiled, a cold, terrifying expression. "I was hoping to discuss a private investment opportunity with you and your head of security."
"Of course, right this way," the director stammered.
Gio’s hand slowly slid from Isadora’s back. The safety tether was severed.
Isadora didn't hesitate. She turned gracefully, melting into the crowd, moving with purposeful strides toward the back of the grand staircase.
She slipped behind a velvet curtain, entering a quiet, dimly lit hallway. At the end of the corridor, the two guards were already unconscious on the floor, Luca and Matteo dragging them into a utility closet.
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"The cameras are looping," Luca grunted, swiping a keycard from one of the downed guards. He swiped it on the elevator panel. "You have exactly ninety seconds from the moment the doors open downstairs. Go."
Isadora stepped into the elevator alone. The doors slid shut, sealing her in. The descent into the vault felt like falling into a grave.
