2. Mia
TWO
The gold-flecked ballroomof the Ritz-Carlton unfurls before me, a sea of tailored suits and silk dresses twirling in a dance of power and ambition. My father stands at the front of the room, his voice infused with an unshakeable conviction as he announces Dario’s ascent into politics.
“That is why I support and endorse Dario DeLuca for city council position five.”
The crowd meets his announcement with thunderous applause and cheers. Flashes of light from the cameras bounce off the two men as they hold their joined hands up in a victory formation as if he’s already won. I stare at my father standing next to the man he’s randomly decided to endorse, his dark brown complexion and chocolate eyes a mirror to my own. There’s something in them I haven’t seen before, and it’s left me more than curious.
“Can you believe this?” Gabrielle’s whisper is a feather against my conscience, her wide eyes reflecting the grandeur that swallows us whole. ”Your dad and Dario DeLuca? That’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.”
“Psh, who you tellin’? One minute, we’re talking about the grand opening of the new community center in a few months. And the next, I’m being told we must pull this nearly impossible campaign launch party off without a single hiccup.”
“Isn’t it rumored he’s part of the mob or something?” Gabrielle asks.
“Rumored but no proof. Remember, some people tried to say he got the contract for the building of the new center under some shady shit, and I shut that down on my blog.”
“That’s right. Well, the campaign certainly looks like it has been planned for months. Maybe they’ve been working on this for a while.”
“What can I say? My dad uses his power to make things happen.”
“And he does it without any controversy,” Gabrielle adds.
I nod, my fingers tracing the stem of my champagne flute as if it holds secrets to the sudden alliance. “Well, he’s in the middle of his third term, and the people obviously love him.”
“Now, everyone, enjoy this evening. Dario will be around to address any questions as he walks through the hall.” My father closes the announcement, and they step off the stage to mingle amongst the supporters.
We walk toward the hors d’oeuvres station to refill our glasses and eat crab puffs to ease our hunger.
“I just wonder when DeLuca had political aspirations. His construction business is so lucrative, and there was never any buzz around the blogs,” I mention as we move around, smiling at the guests and keeping each other company.
A man’s shoulder brushes mine, a polite intrusion in the waltz of the elite.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, his eyes a familiar shade of midnight sky.
Our gazes lock for a fleeting moment before he slips away into the throng of social climbers–his apology lost amidst the string quartet crescendo.
“Looks like you’re already making friends.” Gabrielle teases with a playful nudge, but her laughter fades as my father approaches.
“What are you two whispering about? You know gossip looks bad in the eyes of the public.”
“Dad, we’re not gossiping. Gabrielle is just being silly as usual.”
He pulls me in for a quick hug before refocusing on why he traipsed this way.
“Mia, baby girl, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He directs my attention to the man beside him–Dario DeLuca–the surprise candidate in question.
The reality of him eclipses the rumors; his dark eyes don”t just pierce—they unravel you, fiber by fiber. His olive skin stretches over a formidable frame, tattoos peeking beneath his cuffs like forbidden fruit. And his eyes are as blue as the tropical waters of the Caribbean.
“Miss Gordon,” he says, his voice a low thrum.
“Mr. DeLuca,” I reply, aware of the warmth spreading across my cheeks, undermining the cool facade I’ve kept all evening.
His hand takes mine, not to shake, but to examine—his thumb tracing the lines etched into my palm, a cartographer charting unexplored territory. The touch sends a jolt up my spine.
“Your support means so much to me,” he says.
“Of course. Chicago needs leaders who care about its future, and my dad says you’re the man his council needs to get things going in the direction the city needs. I guess using a little muscle can motivate anyone,” I manage to weave my strong opinion into my response.
“Oop,” Gabrielle blurts before quickly placing her hand over her mouth.
My dad gives me a stern glance.
“No offense,” I hold my hand up.
“That’s fine. Your honesty is refreshing. I happen to think you are right. It, indeed, does motivate. The muscle,” he agrees, lips tilting in a way that can’t quite be called a smile. It’s more a recognition of the game we’re all playing here.
Another man approaches one of many suits filling the room, a city councilman with an eager grin plastered across his face. He claps Dario on the shoulder, and suddenly, my presence becomes secondary.
“Excuse me, Dario,” my father intervenes, a hint of urgency beneath his polished tone. “But we must attend to other guests. I see Bishop Carlton waving us over.”
“Of course, Marcus,” Dario nods, releasing my hand but not before his fingers graze the sensitive skin of my wrist—an accidental touch that feels anything but.
“Enjoy the evening, Miss Gordon,” he calls after me, his farewell feeling more like a promise than a goodbye.
Gabrielle waits with a knowing look, the question in her eyes clear, but she remains silent.
“I’m unsure if he’s a friend or foe after that exchange. He’s so…” I trail off, unsure how to articulate my thoughts. “He’s so captivating, and not in the way politicians usually are.”
“Captivating can be dangerous,” Gabrielle reminds me, her tone laced with the wisdom of one who knows the darker corners of our city all too well, giving her brush with a would-be criminal.
“Maybe that’s not the right word. He’s…”
“Mystifying,” Gabrielle offers.
“Yes, that’s it.” I snap my fingers in response.
She takes a slow sip of her champagne.
“He’s also hot as fuck, sexy as sin, and did you see how big his hands were?” she continues.
“Uh, un. Stop that now. We are not about to do this.”
“I’m just saying he can get a lot of votes looking like that.”
We laugh and continue mingling with the other guests.
My gaze drifts over the crowd toward where the candidate stands with other council members and the fire chief, James Harris, Gabrielle’s dad.
Dario’s eyes lift toward mine, and his sights briefly lock in on me before returning to present company.
As the night wears on, I find myself watching him. He navigates the room with a predator’s grace. It is impressive to see how people gravitate toward him like moths to a flame.
“Wasn’t this a nice turnout?” My mother asks, joining me at my side.
“It certainly was for it to be last minute.” I sip my beverage, then turn to my mother. “Mom, do you know anything about this DeLuca guy? Aside from the construction jobs he’s done for the city and the foundation, this seems a little out of the ordinary.”
“Honey, from what I know and from what your father’s told me, he’s been thinking about this for a while and decided to take the leap when the seat was vacated abruptly. I wouldn’t think more than that.” She pats my hand in a soft, nurturing manner. “Now, excuse me, dear. I see a few people I need to speak with about the community center fundraiser.”
“Okay, Mom.” I accept her response and put the subject out of my mind.
She kisses me on the cheek like she has since I was a little girl. It doesn’t matter that I’m now twenty-six. I’ll always be her angel.
She walks away just as Gabrielle touches my arm, grounding me back to the present.
“It’s time for me to head out,” Gabrielle announces.
“Yeah, I think I’ll go too,” I respond, though a part of me yearns to stay and comb through the web of secrecy that is Dario DeLuca. “I’m doing a live from the studio tomorrow, so I need to sleep.”
I search the room, spotting him, his guests, and my dad standing away from the crowd, engaged in a heavy conversation. Even from here, the man is alluring. His aura, a magnetic field, pulls at my senses, demanding recognition.
“Let me just say goodnight to my dad and his candidate.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you at the valet stand.” Gabrielle starts toward the hall’s entrance, and I stroll toward the gentlemen in deep discussion.
As I approach, I notice the hushed exchange of my father passing Dario an envelope. That is until Dario’s sharp glance cuts through the space and finds me.
“Not here,” Dario shushes when he sees me, and the envelope disappears as if it never existed.
“Oh, Mia!” My father’s voice is buoyant, a practiced joy. “We were just discussing… city affairs.”
“Of course you were,” I reply. “But why can’t you discuss it here, Mr. DeLuca?” I stare at him, and a shiver edges down my spine.
“Because it’s a night of getting to know the city; work can be discussed later,” he smirks.
“This is true. After all, it is your coming out party of sorts,” I quip.
His friend chuckles and clears his throat when Dario delivers a stern glare.
“That reminds me, I do need to talk to you tomorrow,” my father interjects, his tone laced with a gravity that doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Tomorrow,” I echo, curiosity knotting within me like a second heartbeat. “After I’m done with my live, I will be all yours.”
“Very well. Baby girl.”
“I guess now that I’ve received my orders from my father, I’ll be going now. Mr. DeLuca...” I tilt my head. “Pleasure meeting you.”
Dario steps forward, the air around us charged, the very atoms seeming to pause. His hand captures mine. The brush of his lips against my skin feels forbidden—a spark threatening to ignite.
He leans in, close enough for me to catch the faintest scent of cedarwood emanating from him.
“Looking forward to more… enlightening conversations,” he says, the timbre of his voice a velvet caress against the chill of the evening.
“Enlightenment comes at a cost,” I manage, my breath a traitor to the calm I feign.
“Everything has its price, Mia,” he states before kissing my knuckles.
“Goodnight, Mr. DeLuca,” I say as he walks away, melting into the crowd.
“Goodnight… for now,” he responds without turning back.
I pause, my heart skipping a beat. I stand there, a statue amidst the ebb and flow of farewells, the taste of his promise lingering, bittersweet, and enticing. The night air beckons me outside, but my thoughts remain captive, tangled in the web of what lies unsaid, undone, and unmistakably dangerous.