Chapter 3 - The Gala of Wolves
Six weeks into my new role, I had learned more about the inner workings of the Castiano empire than most people discovered in a lifetime. I managed his schedule, coordinated his legitimate shipping logistics, and learned how to navigate a room full of terrifyingly powerful men without blinking. The job wasn't just a position; it was a masterclass in survival.
One evening, Aleandro stepped out of his private office holding two sleek, rectangular black envelopes.
"We are attending the annual Boston Heritage Charity Gala this Saturday," he announced, dropping the invitation onto my desk.
I looked up from my laptop, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. "As your assistant?"
"As my companion."
I stared at him. "No."
His gaze lifted, a familiar spark of amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "No?"
"I’ll attend because the event falls under public relations and corporate philanthropy, which is technically part of my job description. But you do not get to disguise a work obligation as a date without asking me like a normal human being."
Something dark, intense, and deeply approving shifted behind his expression. He walked around the edge of the desk, leaning his hip against the corner just inches from my chair. "Would you like to attend the gala with me, Ellie?"
I paused for theatrical effect, tapping my pen against my chin. "Yes."
When Saturday night arrived, I understood why he had wanted a companion who could hold her own. The grand ballroom of the Seaport Hotel was a glittering sea of diamonds, tailored tuxedos, and predatory smiles. I wore a sleek, midnight-blue gown that the company stylist had mysteriously "left" in my apartment closet—a dress that cost more than my first car, making me feel like an impostor in a kingdom of wolves.
Almost immediately, Sophia materialized out of the crowd, draped in crimson silk and dripping in real rubies. Her eyes swept over me with a venomous sweetness.
"Well, Ellie," she purred, her voice dripping with artificial warmth. "I see Aleandro finally found a tailor with a budget. Though I suppose you can dress up a stray, you can't teach it how to hunt."
Before I could think of a sufficiently devastating comeback, a heavy hand landed smoothly on the small of my back. Aleandro stepped in, pulling me just a fraction closer to his side. The temperature in the immediate vicinity seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Sophia," Aleandro said, his voice smooth as ice. "If I ever hear you speak to my associate that way again, your family’s shipping contracts at the South Boston docks will be terminated before midnight. Am I clear?"
Sophia’s face drained of color. She forced an awkward, brittle smile and melted back into the crowd without another word.
I let out a shaky breath, looking up at him. "You didn't have to threaten her."
"She insulted you," he replied simply, as if that explained the entire geopolitical restructuring of Boston's shipping industry.
Before I could process that, a man stepped out from the shadows near the champagne fountain. He had slicked-back blonde hair, a tailored white tuxedo jacket, and a smile that made every single survival instinct in my body scream in red alert.
"Aleandro," the man drawled, stepping directly into our path. "I see you’ve upgraded your staff since the last time we spoke. Michael Russo." He extended a hand toward me, his pale blue eyes gleaming with an oily charm.
The warmth vanished from Aleandro’s body entirely. He stepped in front of me, blocking Russo’s reach, his hand resting casually inside his jacket where I knew a heavy shoulder holster was concealed.
"Michael," Aleandro said, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "Move along."
Russo chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender before slipping away into the crowd.
Once he was out of earshot, I turned to Aleandro, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Who was that?"
"Someone you are to avoid at all costs," Aleandro said, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk tracking prey. "He is an associate of a rival faction that has been trying to destabilize my legitimate holdings for months."
"And you?" I asked, looking directly into his unreadable eyes. "Where do you draw the line? Are you going to protect me, or are you just using me as a pawn in whatever war you're fighting?"
May you like
Aleandro looked down at me, his expression softening into something raw and entirely unprotected. "I would never deliberately put you in harm's way, Ellie."
I should have noticed the precise phrasing. I should have asked why he chose the word deliberately. Because less than a week later, the truth would detonate right in front of us, shattering every illusion I had built about how we met.
