Chapter 7 - Entering The Manhattan Grand Ballroom
The Plaza Hotel ballroom glittered beneath thousands of crystal chandeliers, humming with the nervous energy of New York’s elite underworld.
Camera flashes popped like rapid-fire gunshots as Ricardo and I stepped out onto the red carpet spread across the grand entrance.
Instinctively, I shrank back against his shoulder, but Ricardo’s arm tightened around my waist, pulling me firmly against his side with absolute ownership.
“Smile, Savannah; the vultures are watching every single muscle in your face,” he murmured against my ear as we entered the hall.
Waves of powerful men in bespoke suits and women dripping in priceless rubies parted instantly as the Moretti name was announced.
Every eye in the room fixed on us, whispering behind champagne flutes and calculating our alliance with predatory, knife-like smiles.
Ricardo led me toward the center of the dais, greeting rival bosses with cold nods and cordial handshakes that concealed lethal threats.
I played my part flawlessly, sipping sparkling cider and nodding politely while my heart hammered frantically against my ribs like a trapped bird.
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I thought I was safe behind the glittering facade of fake wealth and powerful armor until the music shifted to a slower tempo.
Ricardo pulled me closer for the mandatory opening dance, his hand resting firmly against the small of my back as we began to sway.
