Chapter 10
The morning sun over Lake Como was hidden behind a soft layer of mist as a sleek black luxury sedan sped along the highway heading east towards the historic city of Venice.
Inside the quiet cabin of the car, Shruti leaned her head against the cool glass window, watching the rolling green hills of the Veneto region pass by in a calm blur. Sitting right beside her on the broad leather seat was Akhil.
Ever since the intense moment in the conference room yesterday, when Shruti had pulled out the eight-year-old photograph from his wallet, the atmosphere between them had shifted completely. The invisible wall that Akhil had maintained for nearly a decade had shattered into pieces.
Though they hadn't had a chance to speak at length after his security phone call, Akhil had not let go of her hand during the entire drive to Venice. His long, warm fingers were laced securely through hers, resting on the leather seat between them. Every few minutes, his dark eyes would drift away from his tablet screen to look at her face with a quiet, fierce tenderness that made Shruti’s heart beat wildly.
"Are you warm enough?" Akhil asked softly, his deep voice breaking the silence inside the car.
Shruti turned her head to look at him, a warm smile curving her lips. "I'm fine, Akhil. Just excited. I've read so many books about the Venice Carnival, but I never thought I would actually attend the grand ball."
Akhil’s thumb gently brushed over the back of her knuckles.
"The Venice Carnival is one of the oldest celebrations in Europe, Shorty.
Tonight, the grand gala is being held at Palazzo Pisani, an eighteenth-century palace sitting directly along the Grand Canal.
It is a world of pure magic... and total disguise. "
"Is that why Victor Romano expects us to be there?" Shruti asked, her tone turning slightly serious.
Akhil’s dark gaze narrowed, a calm, razor-sharp focus settling over his features.
"Leonardo received intelligence this morning that Victor Romano’s men are planning something in Venice.
Romano knows I am a key patron of the Venice Historic Preservation Society and that I never miss the annual charity gala.
He thinks he can use the chaotic, masked crowd of the carnival to trap us. "
"And you're still going?" Shruti asked, looking into his eyes. "Isn't it dangerous?"
A slow, confident, dangerous smirk played on Akhil’s handsome lips.
"Victor Romano thinks he is luring us into a trap, Shruti.
He doesn't realize that I am using his own plan against him. Mark and Leonardo have deployed thirty undercover security operatives disguised as carnival guests throughout the palace and along the Grand Canal. Tonight, we end Romano’s threat for good. "
He reached out his other hand, gently tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear, his touch feather-light and burning against her skin.
"All you need to do tonight," Akhil murmured, his voice dropping to a low, velvety whisper that made her pulse race, "is enjoy the ball, dance with me, and stay where I can see you."
"Deal," Shruti whispered back, her heart hammering against her ribs.
***
By five o'clock in the evening, the luxury car arrived at the edge of the historic water city of Venice.
Since cars were strictly forbidden inside the ancient canal city, a private, dark mahogany water taxi was waiting for them at the Santa Lucia docks.
Shruti stepped onto the wooden deck of the water taxi, gasping in delight as the boat glided smoothly into the famous Grand Canal.
Venice during the Carnival season was a breathtaking, fairytale sight.
Ancient marble palaces and gothic churches rose directly out of the green, shimmering water.
Gongolas painted in glossy black wood with velvet seats glided beneath ornate stone bridges, guided by gondoliers singing traditional Italian songs.
Most mesmerizing of all were the people.
The narrow stone alleys and arched bridges were filled with thousands of tourists and locals dressed in elaborate historic costumes.
They wore flowing velvet cloaks, powdered wigs, silk gowns, and ornate porcelain masks decorated with gold leaf, peacock feathers, and sparkling crystals.
"It feels like stepping back three hundred years in time," Shruti breathed, leaning over the brass railing of the water taxi as cold sea spray brushed her face.
Akhil stood right behind her, his broad chest resting against her shoulder, wrapping his cashmere coat around her frame to protect her from the chilly evening breeze.
"Tonight, time doesn't exist here," he whispered against her ear.
"In Venice, under a mask, everyone becomes whoever they wish to be. "
The water taxi pulled up to the private water gate of the Hotel Danieli, a world-famous luxury palace hotel overlooking the Venetian lagoon, where Akhil had reserved the grand presidential suite for their stay.
***
By eight o'clock at night, the dark sky over Venice was lit up by flickering golden lanterns, fireworks, and the reflection of moonlit water.
Inside the grand presidential suite, Shruti stood in front of the full-length gilded mirror, taking a slow, deep breath as she inspected her transformation for the Carnival Masked Gala.
Gia Moretti and a team of elite Italian fashion stylists had spent the last two hours preparing her outfit.
Shruti was wearing a breathtaking, custom-made Venetian ballgown made of deep emerald-green silk velvet.
The gown featured a fitted corset bodice embroidered with delicate gold thread, a sweeping off-the-shoulder neckline that highlighted her golden collarbones, and a dramatic, voluminous skirt that rustled gracefully with every step she took.
Her long dark hair was styled in an intricate, elegant high updos, with soft, curling tendrils framing her face.
To complete the Venetian look, she held a stunning, handmade Italian porcelain mask. The mask covered the upper half of her face, crafted in polished white porcelain with intricate emerald lace patterns and gold leaf trim around the eyes, secured by dark green silk ribbons.
A heavy, deliberate knock echoed at her suite door.
Shruti’s heart skipped a beat. She picked up her mask, tied the silk ribbons firmly behind her head, gathered the rich velvet folds of her emerald skirt, and walked over to open the double doors.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway was Akhil.
Shruti’s breath caught completely in her throat.
Akhil looked like a dark, dangerous king straight out of a historic Venetian romance novel.
He was dressed in a pristine black tailored tuxedo with a dark silk waistcoat and a crisp white shirt.
Draped over his broad shoulders was a heavy, floor-length black velvet Venetian cloak lined with dark silk.
Holding his mask in his hand, his dark hair was neatly styled, his sharp jawline carried a faint trace of evening shadow, and his dark eyes burned with an intense, intoxicating power.
When Akhil’s gaze landed on Shruti standing in her emerald velvet ballgown, his dark eyes darkened instantly. His broad chest rose and fell with a heavy, ragged breath. For five long seconds, the powerful billionaire completely forgot how to speak.
He took a slow, deliberate step into her room, his eyes tracing the elegant curve of her throat, her fitted waist, and her soft, rosy lips visible beneath the delicate emerald lace mask.
"Shruti..." Akhil breathed, his deep voice thick with raw, overwhelming admiration. "You are... absolutely breathtaking."
Shruti felt a hot, beautiful flush rush up her neck under her porcelain mask. "You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Dictator. Very dark and mysterious."
A slow, handsome smirk played on Akhil’s lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own mask, a traditional Venetian 'Bauta' mask made of polished black leather with sharp, masculine angles and gold trim.
He tied the black mask over his face, hiding his sharp features, leaving only his dark, burning eyes visible through the eye slits.
Without saying a word, Akhil offered his broad, gloved hand to her.
Shruti placed her small hand into his warm, firm grip. "Ready for the ball, my lord?" she teased softly.
"I have been ready for eight years, Shorty," Akhil whispered back, his voice vibrating straight to her core as he led her out of the suite towards the private water taxi waiting at the hotel’s stone stairs.
***
The water taxi glided down the dark, fog-shrouded Grand Canal towards Palazzo Pisani.
The ancient palace was illuminated by hundreds of burning torches and hanging crystal chandeliers that cast a warm, flickering golden light across the dark water.
Dozens of private motorboats and ornate wooden gondolas were docked near the grand marble entrance pillars, dropping off masked aristocrats, international billionaires, and European royalty.
Akhil guided Shruti up the wide marble stairs into the grand ballroom of Palazzo Pisani.
Shruti gasped softly as she stepped inside.
The ballroom was an architectural miracle of eighteenth-century Venetian grandeur.
High arched ceilings featured priceless frescoes painted by historic Italian masters, giant Venetian crystal chandeliers hung from wooden beams, and towering mirrors reflected the dazzling sea of masked guests.
A full classical orchestra played a sweeping, romantic Venetian waltz on a raised balcony, their violins echoing through the grand hall. Hundreds of guests dressed in elaborate porcelain masks, tall feathers, and flowing velvet cloaks moved gracefully across the polished marble floor.
"It's like a dream," Shruti whispered, holding tightly onto Akhil’s arm as they navigated through the crowded hall.
"Stay close to me," Akhil instructed softly, his dark eyes constantly scanning the masked crowd, his sharp instincts keeping a sharp watch on the perimeter doors where his undercover security guards were posted discreetly.