Chapter 8 - A Dress for the EnemyGabriel arrived at Vivienne’s apartment at seven the following evening with a black garment bag, a security detail she had not requested, and an expression that suggested he had already regretted every decision that had brought him into her life.
Vivienne opened the door wearing a silk robe and holding a cup of coffee.
“You're early.”
“Your driver is downstairs. The security team has been briefed. The route has been changed twice, and there are two cars waiting in case we need to leave separately.”
She glanced past him.
“Good evening to you, too.”
He entered without smiling.
The apartment was quiet. Rain traced thin lines down the windows, blurring the lights of the city. On the table, Vivienne had spread copies of the trust documents, photographs of Julian and Senator Cross, and a list of the people attending the reception.
Gabriel stopped beside the table.
“You've been working.”
“I thought I'd try it. Apparently, being independently wealthy comes with paperwork.”
He glanced at the documents.
“Did you find anything useful?”
“Thomas Vale has represented the Castellanos for eleven years. During that time, he transferred three minor subsidiaries into holding companies controlled by people connected to Julian.”
Gabriel's expression hardened.
“Those transfers would require board approval.”
“Which was apparently obtained through proxy votes.”
“Whose proxies?”
Vivienne slid a page toward him.
“Mine.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked at her.
“You signed these?”
“I signed documents that were presented to me as routine corporate authorizations. I never saw these specific transfers.”
“Then Vale committed fraud.”
“Or someone made sure the documents never reached me.”
Gabriel's gaze remained on the page.
“I can have our forensic accountants examine the records.”
“Our accountants,” she repeated.
He looked up.
“Is that a problem?”
“Not necessarily. I'm simply enjoying the sound of you remembering that we are not married.”
Something flickered in his expression.
“Trust me, Vivienne. If we were married, I would be considerably more difficult to tolerate.”
“I doubt that. You already behave like a husband who has been disappointed by my choice of curtains.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his attention returned to the garment bag.
“Your dress.”
She took it from him and carried it into the bedroom.
Inside was a midnight-blue gown, elegant and deceptively simple. The fabric would catch the light when she moved, and the neckline was restrained enough to satisfy the old-money crowd while the open back would make it impossible for anyone to mistake her for a submissive bride.
Vivienne ran her fingers across the material.
“You chose this?”
“I asked someone who understands formalwear.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a yes.”
“It sounds like I understand the importance of dressing appropriately when walking into a room full of people who may want you dead.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“You could have bought me something ugly.”
“I considered it.”
“Cruel.”
“Practical.”
She disappeared into the bedroom to dress.
Twenty minutes later, when she emerged, Gabriel was standing near the window with his phone in his hand.
He looked up.
And stopped.
Vivienne noticed.
She noticed the way his gaze moved over her, not crudely, not possessively, but with an attention that made her suddenly conscious of every breath.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“Gabriel.”
He put his phone away.
“You look beautiful.”
The sincerity of the words caught her off guard.
She had received compliments from men who wanted something from her. She had received praise from people who wanted her to believe she was valuable enough to be traded.
Gabriel's words carried none of that familiar calculation.
That made them more dangerous.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He offered his arm.
She looked at it, then at him.
“Is this part of the security arrangement?”
“No. This is part of the arrangement where we pretend to be two people who enjoy each other's company.”
“I thought we were pretending to be business partners.”
“We can do both.”
Vivienne placed her hand on his arm.
“Try not to look too pleased about it.”
“I assure you, I'm suffering terribly.”
They arrived at the Marchetti estate shortly after eight.
The house stood on a rise above the river, its pale stone façade illuminated by rows of lights. Cars lined the circular drive. Men in dark suits watched the entrance with the stillness of trained soldiers, while women in couture gowns moved through the doors beneath a canopy of glass.
The reception was not a party.
It was a demonstration.
Every family that mattered had been invited. Every politician who could be persuaded had been seated near the center of the room. The music was expensive, the champagne was older than some of the guests, and every smile concealed a calculation.
Julian stood at the foot of the staircase.
When he saw Vivienne, his expression transformed into something warm enough to deceive a stranger.
“Vivienne.”
She gave him a polite smile.
“Julian.”
His gaze moved to Gabriel.
“Sabbatini. I wasn't aware you had become her permanent escort.”
“Only for tonight,” Gabriel replied.
“How disappointing.”
Julian took Vivienne's hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles.
She resisted the urge to pull away.
“You look magnificent,” he said.
“I know.”
His smile faltered for a fraction of a second.
Gabriel coughed into his fist.
Vivienne stepped past Julian before either man could make the moment worse.
Inside the ballroom, she recognized Senator Cross immediately. He stood near the fireplace, speaking to a silver-haired woman who wore a diamond necklace large enough to finance a small business.
Vivienne leaned toward Gabriel.
“Cross is near the fireplace.”
“I see him.”
“I'll distract him. You look for the archive.”
“No.”
She turned her head slowly.
“Excuse me?”
“Not alone.”
“Gabriel, if you follow me everywhere, Julian will know we're searching for something.”
“He already suspects.”
“Then we should give him something else to suspect.”
Before Gabriel could object, Vivienne crossed the ballroom.
She approached Senator Cross with a smile she had spent years perfecting.
“Senator. It's been too long.”
He turned.
For a brief moment, recognition crossed his face. Then came the public smile.
“Miss Castellano. I heard you had been unwell.”
“How kind of everyone to discuss my health while I was still alive.”
His companion gave a small, startled laugh.
Cross's smile remained in place.
“Your family has endured a difficult period.”
“Families often do. Especially when other people insist on managing them.”
She watched him carefully.
He did not react, but his hand tightened around his champagne glass.
“Perhaps we should speak privately,” he said.
“I would love that.”
He led her toward a smaller salon adjoining the ballroom.
Vivienne followed, aware of Gabriel watching from across the room.
Once the doors closed, Cross's public expression vanished.
“You should not have come here.”
“That's an interesting way to welcome a guest.”
“You have no idea what you are interfering with.”
“Then explain it to me.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“Your father believed that business could be separated from politics. He was wrong. Your mother understood that better than he did.”
Vivienne's pulse quickened.
“What happened to my mother?”
Cross looked toward the closed doors.
“She disappeared because she discovered that your father was helping Julian build a network of shell companies. The network was designed to conceal the transfer of assets through the ports.”
“My father died six years ago.”
“Death does not erase what a man has done.”
“Did he arrange her disappearance?”
Cross hesitated.
That was answer enough.
Vivienne stepped closer.
“Did he try to have Elian killed?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Cross's expression changed.
Before he could answer, the door opened.
Julian stood in the doorway.
“Senator,” he said pleasantly. “I hope Vivienne hasn't been troubling you.”
Cross immediately straightened.
“Not at all.”
Julian extended a hand toward Vivienne.
“Come. The announcement is about to begin.”
She looked at his hand.
Then at his face.
“Of course.”
She walked past him without touching him.
As they returned to the ballroom, Gabriel appeared beside her.
“Did you learn anything?”
“My father was involved in the port network. My mother discovered it. And someone wanted Elian dead.”
“Did Cross say who?”
“No. Julian interrupted us.”
Gabriel's face darkened.
“Then we have very little time.”
“Did you find the archive?”
“Not yet.”
Vivienne glanced toward the staircase.
“Then let's stop wasting it.”
They separated near the main hall. Gabriel moved toward the east wing while Vivienne remained in the ballroom, waiting for Julian's announcement to begin.
The music stopped.
Julian stepped onto the raised platform.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “thank you for joining us. Tonight marks the beginning of a new era of cooperation between several distinguished families and our partners in the shipping industry.”
Applause rose around the room.
Vivienne barely heard it.
She was watching a man standing beside the curtains near the rear entrance.
He wore a plain black suit. His face was unfamiliar, but the small scar beneath his left ear caught her attention.
She had seen that scar before.
In the photograph Elian had shown her.
The man who had stood beside Julian and Senator Cross.
He was watching her.
Then he lifted his glass.
A silent toast.
Vivienne's stomach tightened.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Gabriel appeared.
Found the archive. Need three minutes. Stay where you are.
She typed back.
Someone from the photograph is here. He knows me.
The reply came almost immediately.
Do not approach him.
Too late.
The man was already moving toward her.
He stopped a few feet away and smiled.
“Miss Castellano.”
“Do I know you?”
“Not personally.”
“Then you have an advantage over most people in this room.”
His smile widened.
“My name is Victor Raines. I worked for your father.”
Vivienne kept her expression neutral.
“Doing what?”
“Making sure his problems disappeared.”
She felt the air leave her lungs.
Raines leaned closer.
“Your mother was one of those problems.”
Vivienne's fingers tightened around her glass.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No,” he said softly. “I'm giving you a warning.”
His eyes flicked toward the east wing.
“Some truths are expensive, Miss Castellano. And your father paid a great deal to keep this one buried.”
Then he walked away.
Vivienne stood motionless as the applause began again.
May you like
Across the room, Julian was smiling.
And somewhere in the east wing, Gabriel was alone in a room full of secrets.
