Chapter 20
From the window, I could see the last of the morning guests trickling out.
The real event, the evening party, would be hosted at a venue downtown. Bigger. Flashier. Louder.
"I'll never give you flowers," Zorian said suddenly, leaning on the wall near my desk.
I turned my head, the corner of my mouth lifting. "Good. I'd just throw them away."
That was so unexpected. What a weird way of trying to cheer me up.
He didn't ask why. Didn't press. And maybe that was what made me look at him a little longer. He understood.
Maybe what I said last night stuck: The more he knew about me, the more currency he had to survive.
Before either of us could break the quiet, the door burst open.
Asvika stepped in like she owned the estate, giving Zorian one long look before smiling. "You must be the new bodyguard-shadow-favourite."
Acting like she hadn't been in the same room with him three hours ago.
Zorian straightened up, wary but polite. "Zorian."
"Asvika Khan," she said with a small curtsy and a dramatic wink. "House of Khan. But I'm also her best friend. Technically, I outrank you."
I rolled my eyes. "She thinks there’s a rank for everything."
She grinned and turned to Zorian. "You know, it's kind of cute how you're matching. Aurelio's going to combust when he sees you in black with her. Imagine his future fiancée twinning with her shadow."
Zorian didn't react. Of course not. But I caught the faintest twitch in his jaw.
I didn't join in the teasing. My mind was elsewhere, stuck on those damn white roses and everything they pulled up.
"Asvika," I muttered, shaking myself, "where's Mayami?"
I had blocked her after the shipment incident, and yet I was worried about that fool. She could have gotten killed for confronting him. The mafia had a weird way of showing their anger.
"She's already downstairs arguing with the photographers. Apparently, the lighting is 'insulting to your complexion'."
Gosh, I missed that girl.
As much as she was annoying, she made sure I didn’t burn all my bridges.
Eventually, we left my room and headed to the walk-in closet where the designers were already waiting, buzzing like caffeinated bees. Racks of fabric shimmered like wet ink under the lights.
They dressed me first—a high-neck satin ensemble with embroidery that looked like gold flames licking up my spine.
Asvika was next, draped in emerald with black feathers. Zorian didn't need much, just a matching change of jacket and a subtle pin that marked him as my silent guard.
They kept gushing over him and how he would be better off as a model. I agreed.
At least all he'd worry about would be the choice of outfits and not what position to stand so the bullet hits him and not me.
I clenched my fists.
"Damn," Asvika muttered as she took me and Zorian in with her eyes. "He's going to explode. I mean, I was joking before, but now? He's actually going to combust."
"He?" I asked.
"Aurelio, duh."
I shook my head, hiding a small smile. "He's fine. He likes me. But he likes power more."
"No," she corrected, adjusting her earrings. "He worships you. The power's a bonus."
We all filed into the limo.
My mother rode behind in a separate car. Smart move. A bit of space between her and the daughter she tolerated only enough not to disown.
The ride was quiet, city lights flickering across our faces as we passed.
At the venue, Zorian leaned in before we stepped out. His voice was low, serious. "I'll stay in the shadows. Wouldn't want to act rashly. Don't let anyone get to you."
"I won't," I whispered back, stepping into the marble-lit chaos of the gala.
Inside was a dream carved out of money and tradition. People clapped politely. Flashbulbs danced across champagne flutes.
Aurelio came up, smile ready, cologne warm, and arms wide waiting for me to walk in.
With a reluctant sigh, I walked into his arms, and he wrapped around me a warm hug.
"Miss Versace," he said.
"Don't call me that," I muttered with a faint smirk. "It makes me sound like a perfume."
"You are," he replied, in a playful tone. "Dangerously intoxicating."
I rolled my eyes but let him guide me across the room. "I have people to introduce you to," he said. "Important ones."
"Oh, lovely," I muttered. "More suits."
"These aren't just suits," he said as we approached a velvet-clad private section. "They're also part of the Midnight Dynasty."
I paused. My fingers tightened slightly in his.
The Midnight Dynasty was a rumour in most circles. But in our world? It was very real.
Ten mafia houses, each more powerful than the next. Not just families. Empires. House of Versace had a place there, even if I'd never once claimed the seat.
Asvika's House of Khan was on the list. Her brother Aahil usually sat in for them.
"Nice to meet you Versace," one of them said.
I smiled brightly, returning the handshake.
"These," Aurelio said with a flourish, "are some of the real deals."
I blinked. Wait—
"And here," he said, stopping in front of one man who hadn't turned yet, "the boss of us all. My cousin."
The man stood and turned.
No.
Cologne.
Eyes.
A flicker of memory—a hallway. A pool table. A tiny bathroom. The eyes that saved me from roadkill and his friends. A gunshot. The life leaving Sanaa's eyes.
D-Dominic?
"Meet Dominic Moretti, my closest cousin and one of the strongest mafia houses of the midnight dynasty," Aurelio said proudly. "You might've heard of him. But not like this."
My breath caught in my throat.
Dominic.
And behind him was his second in command, Matteo, I remembered.
Dominic’s eyes trailed me, and they widened as if a memory sparked in his head and an uncontrollable anger brewed inside me.
The twist in his brow. The hesitation. He wasn't sure yet.
But I was.
The war wasn't beginning. It had already started.
And who knew we would meet again, that he would be the cousin of my fiancé?
Was this fate giving me a chance for revenge?