Chapter 65 The Masquerade Ball
ARYA’S POV
I stood in front of the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.
The dress was a deep midnight blue that seemed to shimmer between black and sapphire depending on how the light hit it. The bodice was intricately beaded, the skirt flowing and elegant, with a slit that reached mid-thigh.
My hair was styled in an elaborate updo, with a few curls framing my face.
And the mask.
The mask was a work of art with silver shaped like delicate feathers, covering the upper half of my face but leaving my lips and jaw exposed. It tied with black silk ribbons at the back of my head.
I looked like I belonged at a masquerade ball full of Italian crime lords.
“You can do this,” I said to myself. “You've trained for this. You're ready.”
My reflection didn't look entirely convinced, but she was trying.
I took a deep breath, adjusted the mask one final time, and headed downstairs.
The foyer was busy with guards checking equipment, Enzo reviewing something on a tablet, Luca speaking rapid Italian into his phone. And in the center of it all, waa Giovanni.
He was wearing a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that made him look like he'd stepped out of a James Bond film.
The moment I appeared at the top of the stairs, he stopped mid-sentence.
Everyone turned to look at me, but I only saw Giovanni's eyes widening slightly, traveling from my face down the length of my dress and back up again.
"Well?" I asked, descending the stairs with more confidence than I felt. "Will I pass?"
"You look…" Giovanni cleared his throat. "Appropriate."
Enzo snorted. "That's the best you can do? 'Appropriate'? She looks incredible."
"Thank you, Enzo," I said, grateful for his support.
Giovanni approached me, his expression serious. "This is still dangerous, Arya. More dangerous than any training scenario. If at any point you feel unsafe, if anything feels wrong-“
"I know," I interrupted gently. "I leave immediately. You've told me this approximately fifty times in the last three days."
"And I'll tell you fifty more if it means you take this seriously."
"I am taking this seriously," I said, meeting his eyes. "But I'm also going. So can we please move forward with the plan instead of having this same argument again?"
Giovanni sighed deeply, stepping back. "Fine. Enzo, get her wired up."
Enzo moved forward with a small earpiece and what looked like a decorative brooch. "This," he explained, pinning the brooch to my dress, "is a microphone and tracker. We'll be able to hear everything you say and anyone who speaks to you within about six feet. This," he handed me the earpiece, “is how we communicate with you. Giovanni and I will be monitoring from the van outside."
"Got it," I said, fitting the nearly invisible earpiece carefully.
"And remember," Enzo continued, his tone more serious now. "Don't accept drinks from strangers. Don't go anywhere alone. Don't-"
"Don't do anything stupid," I finished with a smile. "You worry too much."
"Someone has to," Enzo muttered.
"We need to go," Giovanni cut in sharply. "We're already behind schedule."
I frowned at his tone. He'd been increasingly grumpy all evening, snapping at everyone and radiating tension like a nuclear reactor.
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Enzo murmured to me.
"More like the wrong side of anxiety," I whispered back, and we both suppressed laughs.
Giovanni glared at us. "If you two are quite finished?"
"Sorry, boss," Enzo said, though he didn't sound sorry at all.
Luca appeared from another room, also dressed in a tuxedo, looking every inch the sophisticated businessman. "We need to move. The party started twenty minutes ago. Any later and we'll draw attention."
Right. Luca was my escort for the evening, playing the role of my bodyguard while also being an actual bodyguard.
We loaded into a sleek black car; Luca and me in the back, Matteo driving, two other guards in a follow vehicle. Giovanni and Enzo would be in the surveillance van parked a block away.
As we drove through Naples, Luca leaned close and spoke quietly. "Remember, you're Sofia Colombo, daughter of Antonio Colombo from Sicily. He's real but reclusive, which is why people won't know you on sight. You're attending with his blessing to scout potential business partnerships."
"I remember," I said, running through my cover story one more time in my head.
"Listen to conversations, but don't push," Luca continued. "Be charming, be interested, but subtle. Someone mentions the new family, you express curiosity but not too much knowledge."
"I've got it," I assured him.
"Don't let anyone isolate you," Giovanni's voice came through the earpiece, making me jump slightly. "Stay in public spaces where Luca can maintain line of sight."
"I know," I said aloud.
"And if someone recognizes that you're Mrs. De Santis?"
"I'll leave immediately," I interrupted. "Giovanni, I've done this before."
A pause. "You've never done this before."
"I meant I've listened to your instructions before. I know the plan."
Another pause, longer this time. Then: "Be careful."
The car slowed, and I looked out the window to see an enormous villa lit up like a palace. Cars lined the circular drive, all expensive and gleaming. Security personnel in tuxedos checked invitations at the entrance.
My stomach flip-flopped.
"It's massive," I breathed.
"Don't be overwhelmed," Giovanni's voice said in my ear.
"I'm not overwhelmed," I lied, reaching for my mask and securing it in place. I looked at Luca. "Let's do this."
"Kill it, Sofia," he said with an encouraging smile, adjusting his own mask.
Matteo opened my door, and I stepped out into the cool evening air. The villa was even more impressive up close with three stories of Renaissance architecture, with balconies and arched windows and gardens that probably cost more than most houses.
"Focus," Giovanni reminded me through the earpiece.
I straightened my spine and walked toward the entrance with Luca at my side, every inch the confident daughter of a mob boss.
The security checkpoint was thorough. A woman in an elegant black suit asked for our names.
"Sofia Colombo," I said smoothly, my Italian accent perfect thanks to three days of practice with Giovanni. "And my associate, Luca Romano."
I handed over the carefully forged ID and invitation card that Giovanni's people had prepared.
The woman scanned them both, her expression professional but scrutinizing. Luca stood beside me, relaxed and confident, playing his role perfectly.
The scanner beeped and woman frowned at her screen.
My heart started to race.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, keeping my voice light and curious.
"One moment please," she said, typing something into her computer.
I felt Luca tense almost imperceptibly beside me. In my ear, I heard Giovanni curse softly in Italian.
"What's wrong?" I asked the woman again, adding just a touch of irritation to my voice. "I was invited personally by the Conti family."
"I'm sure it's just a system error," she said, but she was waving over another security guard now.
My heart was pounding so hard I was sure everyone could hear it. In my ear, Giovanni's voice was calm but urgent: "Stay relaxed. Don't show fear. Luca, be ready to extract if necessary."
The second guard approached, looking at the screen over his colleague's shoulder. They spoke in rapid Italian, it was fast for me to catch all of it, but I heard enough to understand that my ID had a problem.
"Signorina Colombo," the first woman said, looking at me with suspicion. "There seems to be an issue with your identification.”