The Don's Pawn, A Queen's Revenge

ella

ier than any ovation. My heart was still racing, a frantic bird trapped against my ri

eside our table. She didn't look defeated. If anything, the humiliation of my performance seemed

r. She held her champagne flute with a delicate, predatory grace. "I just saw Mr. V

metic mask shifting in

ew York for a simple engagement dinner." Alida's gaze slid to me then, cold and calculating. "Unless, of course, the bri

had played her hand perfectly. She knew she couldn't beat me at the piano, so she decided to paint a targ

nse I offered would only sound like a lie to

t was Vincenzo. He was sitting in the shadows of the head table, silent, watchi

ed, standing up abrup

y heels clicking sharply against the marble, putting as m

d of Chicago slapped my cheeks, stinging my eyes. I gripped the iron railing, breat

g stare-it was all closing in on me. If I stayed, they would find out who I really

areness skitter

from his seat, but his presence filled the space between us. His dark eyes were locked onto mine, stripping away the silk and the pretense. Ther

ne, lifting my chin in a gesture of pure defiance. I held his gaze for a heartbe

tty act of war, but it felt li

go back

was winding down, the confusion of departing guests providing the perfect cover. I

dimly lit by flickering gas lamps that cast long, twisted shadows on the wet ground.

w taxi was turning the corner, its "For H

to the train sta

ag it down, my breath

The darkness seemed to detach itself from the brickwork, forming

ture seemed to

cipessa? " (Where do you thi

and laced with a deadly cal

't wearing his overcoat, just his black suit that strained against the muscle of his should

followed me. He

e was nowhere