17
GAbrIELA DUARTE
The dress arrived in my room in an unmarked box.
It was black, floor-length, and far more expensive than anything I owned. The fabric skimmed my body to the knees before flaring into a light, flowing skirt. The back was almost entirely bare. A gold mask lay on the silk, along with a note from Sofia:
“Don’t let foolish men mistake simplicity for invisibility.”
I smiled, then studied my reflection.
Ten days had passed in a blur of preparing the flower beds, taking measurements for the auditors, and encounters with Luca that never lasted long enough.
The favorable report had arrived that morning, at the end of my thirty-day assessment.
After reviewing the confirmation of my appointment with my lawyer, I’d signed it and sent it to Paola.
My three employees' salaries in Lisbon no longer depended on whether Luca changed his mind the next day.
The masquerade ball would bring together investors and prospective buyers of the residences attached to the hotel. I planned to stay an hour, present the garden’s progress, and disappear. Sofia’s dress seemed to have other plans.
I checked the label, and my stomach tightened at the designer’s name. The dress must have cost months of the firm’s expenses. I didn’t want to wear a fortune and give Beatrice exactly the story she was trying to tell. I called Sofia.
“I can’t accept this.”
“You’re not accepting it. You’re wearing it and returning it tomorrow.”
“It still feels like a favor.”
“Think of it as protective equipment, then. There are sharks in that ballroom. Plain linen won’t do much to fend them off.”
I laughed, but I still wasn’t sure.
“I don’t want people thinking I’m trying to belong in your world.”
“You walked in here and told my grandson he had to close an entire wing. Do you really think a dress is going to be the hard part?”
I laughed again and asked Paola to help check the fastening, which I couldn’t reach on my own. She also pinned up my hair and lent me a pair of small gold earrings.
“Luca won’t be able to speak,” she declared.
“Luca never loses anything. Especially control.”
“We’ll see.”
The main ballroom and the staircase leading to it had been inspected and cleared for the event; the rest of the construction area remained cordoned off.
The silk for the suites had yet to arrive from Venice.
Here, restored chandeliers lit the ceiling, and electric candles surrounded the columns and windows.
I came down the stairs trying to ignore the stares and spotted Luca near the middle of the room.
He wore a black tuxedo and a plain black mask. He was talking to two investors near the center of the ballroom. The moment he saw me, he stopped midsentence.
Beside me, Paola murmured,
“Told you.”
Luca recovered quickly, but his gaze never wavered. He watched me down every step. I felt his eyes travel over the dress, linger on my bare back, then return to my face with an intensity that warmed my skin. None of the rules would survive tonight.
“Ms. Duarte,” Adrien said, coming toward us in a blue mask, smiling broadly. “At last, someone who’s done the theme justice.”
“Does that mean everyone else failed?”
“It means I’ve stopped looking at everyone else.”
He offered me a glass. I accepted, aware that Luca was still watching.
“I saw the flower beds from the window,” Adrien said. “Have the new roses arrived?”
“They’re coming tomorrow. Sofia chose some of the varieties and approved the purchase from the family’s funds. We’re still negotiating partnerships for the workshops.”
“And you chose the yellow ones.”
“Luca did.”
Amusement lit Adrien’s eyes at the name.
“So the man has a sentimental side.”
“Keep it to yourself. It could hurt the stock price.”
Adrien laughed and offered his arm to escort me to the project display.
I took it. Not to provoke Luca, I told myself.
Simply because I shouldn’t have to turn down another man’s company to protect feelings Luca had yet to acknowledge.
The lie lasted until I glanced over my shoulder.
He hadn’t moved, his glass forgotten in his hand.
For the first hour, I talked about conservation, funding, and the garden program. People who’d doubted my experience a few weeks earlier complimented my work. When an investor asked whether I would remain in charge of the project, Luca answered before I could.
“Through completion.”
I turned. I hadn’t noticed him approaching.
“Has Paola returned the signed confirmation?”
“She sent it a few minutes ago.”
I let out a slow breath. I’d received the report that morning; I’d still been waiting for the group to make it official.
“You’ve received it too,” he added. “You can check your phone.”
The investor congratulated me. I waited for him to move away before looking back at Luca.
“You could have told me before answering for me.”
“I could have. I wanted to see your face when you heard.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth beneath the mask.
“Did Sofia choose the dress?”
“How did you know?”
“My grandmother favors dramatic weapons.”
“You consider this a weapon?”
“In the wrong hands.”
“And are these the wrong hands?”
I raised one between us. Luca took my fingers, as though examining a ring that wasn’t there. His thumb moved slowly over my skin.
“Dangerously so.”
“Luca,” Beatrice called.
He let go. She approached in a silver dress and a crystal-studded mask, her expression warm for the guests and cold for me.
“The London representatives are waiting.”
“Tell them I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“They’ve already waited twenty.”
Luca looked at me.
“Save me a dance.”
“One,” I said. “I’m not spending the whole night waiting.”
He glanced at his watch and nodded.
He left with Beatrice. I stayed in the ballroom. Adrien asked me to dance; I accepted for one song. Afterward, I talked with the restorers and accompanied Sofia into the illuminated garden. When I returned, Luca was still tied up with the investors. Beatrice, however, was free.
“May I speak with you?” she asked.
“I imagine you will even if I say no.”
“Privately.”
I wouldn’t let her steer me into a corner. I stayed by the display table, with enough people nearby to prevent any open threats.
“Here’s fine.”
Beatrice smiled.
“Very well. I merely wanted to offer some advice. This is an important evening for the group, and people have begun commenting on how close you and Luca have become.”
“People, or you?”
“Don’t be na?ve. You arrive as an unknown architect, run over budget, and suddenly you’re receiving dresses from the family, dancing with the president, and having him defend you to the board.”
“I also kept a wing from collapsing.”
“Work you’re very well paid to do.”
Two guests nearby quieted their conversation. Beatrice raised her voice just a little.
“The problem is how it looks. An employee dazzled by her boss might mistake his attention for professional advancement. It would be a shame to see your reputation suffer.”
The blow landed, but I stood my ground.
“My firm was hired to carry out the restoration. The work has passed an independent assessment.”
“On a temporary basis.”
“My appointment has been confirmed through completion.”
For an instant, Beatrice lost control of her expression.
“I see. So he’s told you.”
“I have,” Luca said behind her.
Beatrice turned. He’d taken off his mask, leaving everyone a clear view of his cold expression.
“Luca, we were only talking.”
“I heard.”
“I’m trying to protect the group from rumors.”
“By starting them?”
“Don’t be unfair.”
He stopped beside me.
“Gabriela’s decisions are documented,” he said. “And I answer for the expenses I authorized.”
The people around us had fallen silent. A woman beside the model discreetly raised her phone. Another whispered to her companion. I knew that kind of silence: it wasn’t solidarity. They wanted a scandal.
“The audit concluded this morning that my decisions reduced the project’s financial risk,” I added. “Paola has the report and the confirmation of my appointment. My fees remain unchanged.”
I took the tablet from its stand beside the model and opened the report’s conclusions for the investor who’d asked about the project a few minutes earlier.
“Paola can provide the full report.”
He leaned closer to the screen, peering through his glasses. Luca waited beside me. The heritage authority’s representative nodded.
“I’ve read it. Ms. Duarte’s work exceeds the agreed standards.”
The investor returned the tablet to its stand and asked the representative how to obtain the full report. One woman lowered her phone; another kept filming. Beatrice watched them before turning to Luca.
“If you have another technical objection, put it in writing,” he said. “The insinuations stop here.”
“You’re choosing a contractor over someone who’s spent fifteen years by your side.”
“I’m choosing the truth over an insinuation.”
Beatrice went pale.
“As you wish.”
She made her way out through the guests. Gradually, conversation resumed. I took a deep breath.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for something I should have done sooner.”
Luca held out his hand.
“Dance with me.”
“Another public display won’t help with the rumors.”
“I know. Do you still want to dance?”
I looked at his hand, then at the guests watching us.
“Yes. Just don’t decide for me what I’ll have to face tomorrow.”
He nodded and waited.
Sofia stood near the windows. Adrien raised his glass in a quiet salute. I put my hand in Luca’s. He led me to the middle of the ballroom, beneath the largest chandelier, where everyone could see us.
His hand settled on my bare back. His touch was warm and sure, with no attempt to make it seem impersonal.
“Is my assessment really over?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And I’m still here.”
“Not for lack of stupid attempts to get rid of you.”
“That was almost an apology.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
I smiled.
Luca drew me a little closer.
“I thought you’d leave before I got a chance to dance with you.”
“I promised you one song.”
“May I ask for another?”
“Will you change your mind before it starts?”
“Not this time.”
“What about the rules?”
“The assessment’s over. We can discuss them.”
“Where would you like to start?”
His fingers moved against my skin.
“With what I can’t say out loud in the middle of this ballroom.”
Heat spread through me.
“Maybe you should try.”
He lowered his head, his mouth close to my ear.
“I want to take you somewhere I won’t have to let go of you when the music stops.”
I missed a step. He steadied me effortlessly.
“But you won’t,” I said.
“I want to. But I won’t make that decision for us in the middle of the dance floor.”
“I’m right here. You can talk to me.”
Luca glanced around.
“I’ve spent the evening answering for you. I’m trying to stop.”
“Then make a choice when we’re alone.”
“I will.”
“Don’t leave me facing another closed door.”
Luca looked down at our joined hands.
“I don’t want you to regret coming with me.”
“Let me worry about that.”
He squeezed my hand. We danced until the music ended without mentioning the guests again. When we stepped off the floor, he still held my fingers.
He led me away under dozens of watching eyes, as though he’d already chosen something he couldn’t yet name.