Chapter 15 - The Syndicate's Gala and the Crowning of the Queen
The following three weeks passed in a beautiful,
intoxicating blur of deep,
passionate romance and intense,
relentless preparation for the most important,
dangerous event of the entire year within the criminal underworld.
The Annual Syndicate Gala was not just a lavish,
expensive party,
it was a massive,
highly structured gathering where all the major,
powerful families from across the coast met to discuss territory,
negotiate complex treaties,
and display their absolute,
terrifying wealth and power.
And this year,
for the very first time in his ruthless,
solitary reign,
Vincent Moretti,
the most feared boss in the country,
was bringing a woman to stand publicly,
proudly by his side.
I stood nervously in front of the massive,
gilded mirror in my bedroom,
staring in complete,
stunned awe at the reflection staring back at me,
barely recognizing the powerful,
stunning woman looking back.
The dress Vincent had personally commissioned in Paris was an absolute,
breathtaking masterpiece of deep,
crimson red silk,
clinging perfectly to my curves,
with a daring,
elegant slit up the side that allowed for absolute freedom of movement.
Around my neck rested a heavy,
impossibly expensive diamond necklace,
the brilliant,
sparkling stones catching the warm light of the chandelier,
a beautiful,
heavy collar claiming me publicly,
undeniably as the exclusive,
protected property of the King.
"You look absolutely dangerous,
my love,"
Vincent murmured softly,
stepping quietly up behind me,
his large hands resting gently on my bare,
shivering shoulders,
his dark eyes meeting mine in the reflection of the massive mirror.
He was dressed in a flawless,
custom-tailored midnight blue tuxedo that made him look like a lethal,
aristocratic predator,
his presence alone commanding absolute,
unquestionable respect and terrifying,
deep-seated fear.
"I feel nervous,"
I confessed quietly,
leaning back into his warm,
solid chest,
drawing strength directly from his immovable,
calm energy,
"Every single boss,
underboss,
and captain will be staring at me,
waiting for me to make a single,
fatal mistake."
Vincent smiled,
a dark,
thrilling smirk that promised absolute violence to anyone who dared to even look at me with disrespect,
his lips brushing lightly,
affectionately against my diamond-clad neck.
"Let them stare,
Lena,"
he whispered confidently,
his voice a low,
vibrating purr against my sensitive skin,
"Let them look at the woman who easily uncovered Carlo's betrayal in a single,
rainy afternoon,
let them realize that the King has finally found his equally lethal,
brilliant Queen."
He turned me around slowly,
reaching into the inner,
hidden pocket of his expensive tuxedo jacket,
pulling out a small,
beautifully crafted silver derringer pistol,
pressing it gently into my open,
waiting palm.
"It is loaded,
the safety is off,
and it fits perfectly inside the hidden,
silk pocket sewn into the thigh of your dress,"
he instructed softly,
his eyes completely serious,
reminding me instantly that tonight was not just a party,
but a dangerous,
high-stakes battlefield.
"I hope I do not have to use it,"
I replied calmly,
sliding the cold,
heavy metal seamlessly into the hidden pocket,
the weight of the weapon feeling strangely,
wonderfully comforting against my leg.
"So do I,
my beautiful Queen,"
Vincent agreed smoothly,
offering me his arm with a formal,
elegant bow,
"Because I would hate to ruin such a beautiful,
expensive dress with the blood of our pathetic,
jealous enemies."
We walked confidently out of the grand bedroom together,
descending the sweeping marble staircase where Marcus and a dozen heavily armed,
tattooed shadows waited silently to escort us directly into the heart of the dangerous,
glamorous underworld.
As the massive,
bulletproof SUV pulled away from the secure estate,
heading toward the grand,
glittering ballroom in the city,
I looked out the tinted window,
feeling completely,
utterly fearless.
The broken,
terrified waitress who had locked herself in a bathroom crying for help was entirely,
permanently dead,
and in her place,
May you like
a lethal,
untouchable Queen had violently,
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