Chapter 17
Tonight is the annual Illuminate Chicago Art Gala.
It's an event hosted by the Bonventi family to raise money for a given cause each year.
In reality, however, it's an opportunity to further their interests, launder money, and wrap themselves in a layer of legitimacy.
Most importantly for them, I suppose, it's to communicate power and dominance over the city.
Politicians, rich businessmen, and the who's who of Chicago are in attendance, no doubt. Along with others who more than likely owe the Bonventi family money or are in their pockets.
I slip into the emerald green silk dress Luca gifted me. I've always been a girl who liked dresses, but they are starting to feel different to me now, like a costume or a disguise.
As I adjust the diamond choker, I now only see Sofia in the mirror—the mistress. My world has shifted from black and white to shades of gray, especially with Gabriel in the picture.
I walk out into the living room and take a seat in a chair. The past three days have been quiet—neither Luca nor Gabriel has visited, so I've been left alone with my thoughts.
I hate to admit it, but Gabriel's absence has left a void I'm not sure how to fill—or if I even should.
A knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts.
I put my heels on as the door slowly opens.
"Ma'am, may I come in?"
"Yes," I say, finishing strapping my left heel.
The door fully opens, and a young teenager who looks just as scared as I did my first night here stands in the doorway.
"I'm... I'm supposed to take you down to tonight's event."
I nod. "All right, let's go."
As we step out of the elevator, he leads me to the entrance of the ballroom where the gala is being held.
"Enjoy your night," he says with a forced smile and walks away.
I walk in, scanning the room. There are a lot more people than I thought there'd be. My eyes immediately land on Isabella, Luca's wife, at the bar.
Shit.
I can't risk running into her. The potential consequences are too much for the start of the evening.
I duck away, blending into the crowd while observing the guests and artwork.
A painting catches my eye—a naked woman surrounded by melting clocks.
"Time's Illusions," the plaque reads. Starting bid: $250,000.
I shake my head in disbelief, wondering who would spend that kind of money on such a piece.
Then I remember—good old money laundering.
I spot Luca across the room, deep in conversation. As I approach, their voices lower.
"Luca," I call out, my voice soft yet audible over the hum of the crowd.
His eyes meet mine briefly before flicking over my shoulder. "Sofia, what are you doing here?" he asks coldly.
I frown, stunned. "You invited me, remember?"
Luca blinks, as if he's just remembered something. "Oh, right," he says, his voice growing distant. "I forgot about that."
"I couldn't wait to see you," I reply, my voice laced with false sincerity. "You look handsome tonight."
I feel myself overcompensating because I'm scared of losing my cover and blowing everything I've been working towards.
Luca acknowledges the compliment with a curt nod. "Thanks. Uh, you too."
"Is everything okay?" I ask, trying to sound casual. "You seem distracted."
Luca's eyes dart around the room again before settling back on me. "I'm fine," he says. "Just some... fuck."
Luca pushes past me, almost knocking me over. I turn to see Isabella standing there beside two other women. Her arms are crossed, and she's turning red.
Luca runs to her and puts his arm on her shoulders.
"What the fuck, Luca? Are you serious? This bitch again? After everything you told me," she says in a loud tone.
"Isabella, don't yell so loud," a woman next to her says.
"No, fuck that."
"Enough!" Luca commands, and Isabella bites her lip and stares daggers at me.
"I will deal with this. Cindy, please take her to get some fresh air, and I'll come find you shortly," Luca says.
He turns to me, furious. "Don't move," he barks and disappears into the crowd.
Left alone, I make my way to the bar. As I reach for a champagne flute, a familiar hand grabs my arm. "Don't drink that."
I turn to find Gabriel, his presence immediately igniting a warmth within me.
"Why not?" I ask, trying to play cool.
He smirks. "Because."
"Because why?"
"Because I told you not to—do you need another reason?"
I look into his eyes, contemplating my next remark.
I place the glass down.
"Good girl. Now," he says and leans against the bar, "why don't we leave?"
I scoff. "I'm here on a date."
Gabriel's face changes, and he looks at me with an intensity that I know is frustration. "I'm your only date."
I shrug. "Well, it's been three days, so I thought I'd test the waters."
I can see him get upset, but he doesn't allow himself to show it. I'm learning that sometimes he decides to hide it.
"I see. Well," he says and stretches out his arm for me to take, "we can't have that. You're coming with me."
My chest tightens as I hook my arm around his and allow him to escort me wherever he has planned.
We walk out of the ballroom and make our way across the lobby to the opposite end. We stop in front of some old-looking doors, and Gabriel opens one to reveal a hallway that slopes downward. It's lit by one dim light.
"Umm, that looks dangerous," I say sarcastically but honestly.
Gabriel laughs. "There's nothing dangerous about a hallway."
"When it looks like that, there is."
"Come, Bella. I have something to show you."
I hesitate for a moment, then retake his arm and follow him down the hallway. It's cold and bare. As we approach the one light source, it looks like an antique from the turn of the century. It has one of those Edison-style light bulbs where you can see the filaments.
"You know, they say Al Capone himself had this light put in, and that he'd turn it off if the cops came so they'd be in total darkness, allowing everyone to escape."
"Escape from where? The hotel?" I ask, not following the story.
"No. Up ahead. You'll see."
As we continue to walk, I see what looks like a dead end. A large sheet of worn steel takes up the entire wall, and nothing else is present. As we approach, I feel myself getting a bit nervous. I try not to let it show, but I feel Gabriel can tell, as my grip on him tightens.
He smirks and reaches forward, pressing something in the wall. A handle pops out, and he pulls. The large metal sheet swings forward, and I see it's actually a door.
I'm welcomed to one of the oldest and last remaining speakeasies in Chicago.
I step into the hidden room, and the warm glow of vintage lamps casts shadows across the mahogany wood and dark leather booths. The subtle scent of cigar smoke and whiskey hangs heavy in the air, fitting for such a place.
"Please, Sofia," Gabriel says and points to a cozy corner couch. "Take a seat, and I will get us something."
As I sit, I watch as he walks over to the bar and engages in a friendly-looking conversation with the barman. It's clear he knows him.
I take this moment to look over Gabriel. He's dressed in a fitted tuxedo with shiny black shoes. His matching bow tie makes him look almost like Mr. Bond.
I guess if James Bond was 6'4", had a fair bit of tattoos, and was a trained hitman whose job it was to kill people.
The way he carries himself, so confidently and easy-going. Never in a million years would you think he's capable of the things I've read about and now seen.
Gabriel returns and sets a fancy drink of some kind down in front of me and slides in, holding his usual whiskey.
I grab my glass and look at the pink-colored drink with a decorated rim.
"What is this?" I ask.
Gabriel smiles. "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No, I told the bartender I needed a special drink for the most beautiful woman in the world."
"Okay there, Mr. Smooth."
"Try it. If you don't like it, I'll get you something else."
"Okay," I say, holding up my glass. "Well, here's to—"
"Us," Gabriel says and clinks my glass.
I catch myself feeling warm and turning red from embarrassment. I pray the dim light doesn't allow him to notice.
I take a sip. “Wow, this is good," I say, laughing.
"Of course. You are the most beautiful woman in the world, after all."
I feel my giddy nerves rising, so I search my thoughts for something to say to change the direction of our conversation.
"So, what's the deal with this place?" I ask with an inquisitive face, taking pride in myself for coming up with something good to steer the question away from my emotional pull.
Gabriel takes a sip of his whiskey, and I see the lights reflecting in his eyes.
"This place has seen its fair share of history," he says, gesturing around the room. "They say Chicago's history was shaped from this very spot."
"Really?"
"Yes, and with all the secret rooms and tunnels, it just adds to the lore."
"Really? Secret rooms?"
Gabriel laughs. "Yes, see that door over there?" he asks me, and I turn to see a large painting of a man sitting on a garden bench in what looks like Paris.
"No."
"Bella, really look."
I study the painting again, and then I see it—the man's cane resting beside him on the bench is a handle. "Ah, another secret door."
He nods.
"Interesting."
Gabriel leans into me, and I turn back to find his eyes. "You know, there's something about you that I can't figure out. Ever since we first met, you seem different to me than most women," he finally says.
His words give me goosebumps, and I'm flooded with an uneasy feeling. The irony of his statement catches me off guard and slams into my chest like a blow from a gun.
"Gabriel," I say, my voice slow and steady, "I'm just a girl that's had to look out for herself. You know better than most the dangers lurking in this world. Women need to always be ready."
He leans closer, his breath warm against my cheek, and the scent of sweetness from his whiskey fills my nose. “I see,” he says but I feel like he’s unsure.
"Take what you do, for example.”
"Sometimes," he says slowly, "the line between good and bad is not as clear-cut as it seems."
His large hands envelop mine, and I feel that familiar protective quality he gives me. "I may have to play the devil sometimes, but you’ll never know me as that."
I smile and close my eyes as he rubs my hands with his thumb.
I'm tempted to continue to give in to the forbidden desires that claw at me.
But since that night with him, I don't know what to do.
I don't know if it was a lapse in judgment, a necessary step in my undercover work and nothing else, or something I can't bring myself to think about.
Despite how I may feel about Gabriel, I must remember that I'm FBI first, Sofia second.
Right?
The thought of leaving the FBI entirely flashes through my mind, startling me, and my eyes shoot open.
"What's wrong?" Gabriel asks.
I clear my throat. "Nothing. So," I say and take a sip from my glass, "why did you bring me here, anyway?"
"Sofia, are you sure you're okay?" he presses.
"Yes. No, actually. Why haven't I seen you since our night together?" I blurt out.
The question shocks both of us.
"Why do you think?" Gabriel asks, bringing his glass to his lips.
"I'm not a mind reader. We had sex, and then, well, where does that leave us?"
Gabriel swallows hard and nods. He places his glass down on the table and slides his hand up my skirt. I'm shocked, but my body responds instantly. My legs part, allowing him to find what he's searching for.
"I told you, you belong to me. This," he says, gently running his finger up and down the outside of my panties, "belongs to me."
My chest tightens, and my breaths come out in spurts. He rubs me a few more times, and my eyes slowly close. I can't keep them open. I bite my lip and breathe in his scent.
I start to feel my wetness seep through my panties.
Gabriel slides the fabric to the side, and his warm fingers play with my clit, teasing me.
I grip onto the table as he slides a finger inside me, and just as I start to feel myself build, the sensation is ripped away.
I open my eyes to see him licking his finger.
"Just a taste for now, Bella."
If words alone could make me come, now would be the time.
I adjust my dress and brush a few loose strands of hair out of my face.
"Don't question me. Don't second-guess me. You belong to me, and in time, you will be at my side, never allowed to leave."
"And what about Luca?" I ask as I finally slow my breathing down.
Gabriel cracks his neck in frustration.
"I will figure it out. Delicate matters, but don't worry. What I say to you stands, and I've never not gotten what I want."
He finishes his drink and checks his phone. "Time to get back to the gala."
"Can't we just stay here?" I ask.
"Soon," he says and stands. "I'll walk you back."
We walk down the hall, and suddenly Gabriel pins me against the wall.
He wraps his hand around my neck and kisses me passionately.
My body burns with desire. He presses into me, and I feel his cock twitch.
If he pushes it, I'll let him have his way with me right here in the hallway.
I don't care who comes in or who would see.
I'd let him do whatever he wanted to me right now in this moment.
He pulls away, drinking me in silently. I fix myself, and we walk back to the gala entrance.
"Ah, there she is," Luca says, grabbing me forcefully. He reeks of alcohol.
I turn to look at Gabriel, but he's vanished. Panic rises in my chest.
I turn to leave, and Luca grabs my arm painfully. "Where are you off to?"
"Bed. Isabella is watching us," I lie.
She wasn’t, but he doesn’t question it.
“Soon, I’ll have you on your damn knees enjoying that pretty mouth of yours. Don’t forget what you’re really for,” he says and removes his hand.
He gives me a dirty look and walks away.
I storm out of the gala, full of rage and sadness. I feel tears starting to form in my eyes.
Where the fuck is Gabriel, and why did he leave me?