Chapter 34: Smoke, Lies and Lace

Chapter 34: Smoke, Lies and Lace
The world was burning, or maybe it was just her. Sherry stood in the center of Enzo's penthouse, phone dangling from her fingers, the screen froze on breaking news:
"Vehicle explosion on Fifth Avenue. Victim suspected to be Enzo Blackwood."
Her breath had stopped. Her knees buckled. She collapsed against the cold marble floor as reality caved in.
No. Not like this.
Not when she had finally chosen him.
Not when he had just let her go and given himself instead.
The silver chain around her neck is Enzo's ring. It felt suddenly heavier than bone. She clutched it like a lifeline.
Her phone rang again.
Ethan.
She scrambled to answer. "Please-please tell me he's alive."
His voice was tense, controlled. "He's alive. Not in that car. It was a decoy."
Sherry dropped her head into her hands, sobbing once, hard and raw, before forcing herself to breathe again.
Ethan continued. "My boss has been moved to a secure location. But the hit was meant for him. They want him off the board. You too."
"And the news?"
"Let them think he's dead."
Sherry's lips parted. "What?"
Ethan's voice turned cold. "If they think he is gone, they will get bolder. We'll draw them out."
Sherry closed her eyes. "That's suicide."
"It is called strategy."
Sherry stood resolutely in front of a full-length mirror inside Enzo's sprawling walk-in closet three days later.
The black lace gown clung tightly around her like a second skin stitched with rage and grief she'd accumulated slowly over the past seventy-two hours.
It was gorgeous but somehow lacked softness entirely within. It was a stark statement and a somewhat ominous warning uttered pretty loudly in darkened rooms.
The fashion gala was still on. Canceling wasn't an option; it would have meant handing the press everything they were hungry for: chaos, failure, and weakness.
And also not unless she wants to hand over topics to Victoria Hayes and Robert Gray exactly what they wanted, the two vultures circling over what they hoped would be the corpse of Margo Fashion House.
If they wanted a broken woman they could control, they would have to bury her first.
She took a breath, staring hard at her reflection. The woman who used to flinch under pressure, who once walked into Enzo's office like she was waiting to be dismissed, was gone.
What remained was steel wrapped in silk. Fury in designer heels.
The closet was silent except for the quiet thump of her heart.
She adjusted the neckline of the gown, fingers steady, movements practiced. She looked like she had everything under control-because she had to.
Ethan appeared in the doorway. He didn't smile. Just gave a short nod, his voice flat. "It is time."
She didn't look at him right away. Instead, she reached for the necklace around her neck, the one she hadn't taken off. A simple chain, carrying the weight of a ring.
Enzo's ring.
She slipped it beneath her gown, letting it rest over her chest like a brand no one could see.
The Devil's Vow.
Still there. Still burning. Still hers.
Even if he was "dead."
She turned to Ethan, face calm, voice even. "Let's go."
Whatever waited for her at that gala-fake smiles, whispered betrayals, champagne laced with venom-she would face it head-on.
Because this time, she wouldn't be the girl who got walked over.
This time, she was the storm walking into the room.
The gala was held inside the Metropolitan Pavilion, a cathedral of chandeliers and silken shadows. Photographers buzzed around like flies as celebrities and investors paraded inside.
Sherry descended the main staircase like a blade sheathed in black.
The whispers were instant.
"Did you hear?"
"He's dead."
"She's still here?"
"Maybe she killed him."
She smiled tightly.
Let them whisper.
Let them underestimate her.
She was no longer surviving for herself.
She was hunting for him.
She had barely reached the champagne table when the crowd shifted, gasping, murmuring, then parting like silk being slit.
Victoria Hayes.
Blood-red satin gown, slit to the thigh, her every movement choreographed like a threat.
And on her arm...
Robert Gray.
Sherry felt bile rise in her throat.
Victoria's lips curved as she approached. "Darling. So sorry for your loss."
Sherry smiled coldly. "You will be sorrier soon."
Victoria sipped her champagne. "Funny. I heard Margo Fashion House's numbers are bleeding. But you? You look so... put together. Almost like you knew this would happen."
Sherry leaned in. "Maybe I did. But the difference between you and me, Victoria? I build things. You just ruin them."
Robert raised his glass. "To the ruins, then."
The gala pressed on like a masquerade of vultures.
Sherry moved through it like fire through dry brush-gracious, regal, and lethal. But her chest tightened with every breath.
She wasn't just angry.
She missed him.
God, Enzo... Where are you?
As if summoned by thought, a familiar presence burned behind her.
She turned.
And there he was.
Enzo.
Alive. In a tuxedo. Standing at the edge of the crowd like a ghost returned to punish the living.
Alive.
Her lungs collapsed with relief.
He didn't move toward her. Just locked eyes with her from across the ballroom.
But before she could step to him.
Victoria did.
She reached him. Brushed a kiss against his cheek.
The cameras exploded in flashes.
Sherry froze.
No. No. No.
She couldn't breathe.
He was supposed to be dead.
And he had just let that woman-that woman-kiss him in front of the world.
Sherry fled.
She barely made it into the hallway before she felt him behind her.
The wall came first. Then his hands. Then his mouth.
Enzo pinned her gently, forehead to hers.
"I had to draw her out," he said.
"Did you have to let her kiss you?"
"It meant nothing."
"It meant everything."
She shoved at him.
"You died. You let me think you died. And then you walk into that room with her on your lips like it was nothing-"
He cut her off with a kiss. Desperate. Angry. Full of guilt and possession.
She bit his lip.
He growled and dragged her into the nearest darkened corridor for a mind-healing quickie there.
They collided like gods in a war-her fingers clawing at his tuxedo, his hands hiking up her lace gown. Her back slammed against the wall. His mouth on her throat, her jaw, her shoulder.
"Tell me you hate me," he growled, panting against her ear.
"I do," she gasped.
He shoved aside her thong and slid his fingers inside her.
"Liar," he whispered.
She moaned.
He dropped to his knees. She lifted her leg over his shoulder and slid his thumb finger again into her honey pot. He finger-fucked her. Sherry moans his name, "Enzo." Enzo devoured her with the kind of hunger that made gods jealous and sinners scream.
She came with his name on her tongue and fire in her veins.
He rose, kissed her fiercely, and then-
BANG.
A gunshot shattered the silence.
Chaos erupted.
Guests screamed.
The glass broke.
A second shot.
Enzo grabbed Sherry and pulled her down.
Ethan's voice exploded through their earpieces, panic sharp in his tone.
"He's here! Inside the gala! The shooter's not after Sherry-he's after Enzo!"
Everything slowed.
Enzo didn't hesitate. With a sharp breath, he grabbed Sherry and shoved her behind one of the marble pillars lining the ballroom.
"Stay down!" he barked, eyes scanning the crowd.
"No-Enzo-" she gasped, trying to grab his arm, but he was already gone.
He moved on instinct-cutting through the mass of guests now scattering like frightened birds, overturning tables, heels clattering on tile, someone screaming somewhere in the distance. Chaos erupted, but Enzo's focus was razor-sharp.
Sherry, shaking, pressed her back to the pillar. Her breath came fast and shallow, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest.
But then-
She couldn't stay hidden.
Not out there was he. She crawled out from behind a pillar, scraping her knees on marble quite painfully.
Her gaze shot up past chandeliers and mezzanine, suddenly landing there.
Movement flickers somewhat erratically.
High above a crowd stood precariously near a velvet-draped balcony swathed in darkness and flickering candlelight rather eerily.
A man in a staff uniform, too still, too focused. Not panicking.
Rifle braced.
Barrel aimed.
Directly at-
"Enzo!" she screamed, voice raw.
"DOWN!"
Time stopped and then- BANG.
The shot cracked through the air like lightning splitting the sky. The sound swallowed everything. Conversations. Screams. Music. All gone.
Just that single sound. One bullet, one target and one heartbeat hanging by a thread.