Chapter 15 - The Viper’s Nest at Midnight
The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a glittering palace of gold leaf,
crystal chandeliers,
and masked high-society elites.
Violins played a soft classical waltz while waiters in black tuxedos floated through the crowd carrying silver trays of vintage champagne.
At the center of the VIP balcony stood Nikolai Romanov,
a tall,
silver-haired man with cold blue eyes,
wearing a tailored velvet tuxedo and a silver wolf mask.
Beside him stood Carmine Moretti,
looking jittery,
sweating through his white dress shirt,
guzzling champagne like water.
"Relax,
Carmine,"
Nikolai sneered,
adjusting his cuff links.
"My men assured me the distillery was leveled."
"Gabriel is dead,"
"his nurse is buried in the rubble,"
"and by tomorrow morning,"
"the council will officially recognize you as the head of the Moretti territory."
"I just... I have a bad feeling,
Nikolai,"
Carmine muttered,
wiping his damp forehead with a silk handkerchief.
"Gabriel isn't normal."
"He’s like a demon."
"Until I see his body in a casket,"
"I won't sleep."
Suddenly,
the grand orchestra stopped playing mid-note.
A sudden,
suffocating silence swept across the four hundred masked guests in the ballroom.
The heavy double doors at the main entrance opened wide.
Two guards in black suits stepped aside,
bowing their heads sharply.
Down the wide marble staircase walked Gabriel Moretti.
He wore an immaculate,
custom-tailored black double-breasted tuxedo that accented his broad shoulders and commanding height.
He walked with a slow,
measured,
and terrifyingly smooth stride,
his posture perfect,
his dark eyes sweeping the room like a predator hunting prey.
Beside him,
holding his arm,
was me.
I wore a floor-length,
backless emerald green silk gown that clung to every curve of my body,
my dark hair pinned up with diamond clips,
and on my finger,
the heavy gold Moretti signet ring caught the sparkle of the crystal chandeliers.
Gasps echoed through the ballroom.
Glasses dropped,
shattering against the marble floor.
Carmine’s champagne flute slipped from his fingers,
crashing near his shoes,
his face turning the color of chalk.
"Impossible..."
Carmine gasped,
stumbling back against the balcony railing,
his knees knocking together in pure horror.
"He's... he's walking!"
"He was paralyzed!"
Gabriel stopped at the base of the stairs,
his hand gently covering mine as he looked up at the balcony,
his dark eyes locking onto his terrified uncle and the stunned Russian boss.
The entire room was dead silent,
nobody daring to breathe.
Gabriel reached into his inner breast pocket,
pulled out a small crystal glass of iced macchiato that Vincent had handed him at the door,
and took a slow,
deliberate sip.
Then,
with a dangerous,
breathtaking smirk spreading across his handsome face,
he looked directly at Carmine.
"Did you miss me,
Uncle?"
Gabriel’s voice carried across the silent ballroom like a thunderclap.
May you like
"I brought my nurse."
"And this time,"
