Chapter 38- A Room Full of Pretenders

Chapter 38- A Room Full of Pretenders
ARIA’S POV

The ballroom smelled like money and lies. Gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling, spilling light over faces that smiled too wide and eyes that hid too much. The sound of clinking glasses, fake laughter, and low conversations filled the air like a bad symphony.

I stood beside my father, pretending to listen as he spoke to the Russian don. My red dress shimmered under the lights, the silk hugging my body like a secret I shouldn’t be keeping. I looked like I belonged here—elegant, composed, cold. But inside, I was anything but.

I wanted to be anywhere else.
Anywhere that wasn’t here, surrounded by men who had killed, lied, and smiled while doing it.

My best friend was dead. Her killer was still out there. And I was expected to stand here, drink champagne, and smile like everything was fine.

I could feel Alessandro’s presence beside me. Silent. Solid. Always there, like a shadow I couldn’t shake off.

He was dressed in a black suit, black shirt, no tie. The kind of look that made every other man in the room fade into the background. His face gave nothing away, as usual. His jaw was sharp, his eyes cold, his body tense but controlled.

Anyone looking at him would think he didn’t care about anything happening around us. But I knew better. Alessandro noticed everything.

Still, his calm only made my irritation worse.

I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my drink. “Do you ever blink?” I muttered under my breath.

He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. His silence was his favorite weapon.

I sighed. “You really are made of stone.”

That earned me a glance—just a brief flicker of his eyes toward me. Cold. Measuring. Then he looked away again.

Typical.

My father’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Aria,” he said, his hand brushing my arm lightly. “Behave tonight. These men are not your friends, but we need them to think they are.”

“I know,” I said flatly.

He gave me a tight smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good girl.”

Those words again. The same ones that had made my stomach twist earlier.

Good girl. Always the obedient daughter. The pretty puppet.

I swallowed the anger rising in my chest and turned away before I said something stupid.

The room was stifling. Too much perfume. Too much smoke. Too many eyes watching. I needed air—or at least some distance from all of this.

Without asking, I began to walk toward the stairs at the far end of the hall. My heels clicked against the marble, drawing a few glances, but I didn’t care. I felt Alessandro move behind me, his steps quiet but firm. Of course he followed. He always did.

When we reached the top of the staircase, I stopped and looked down.

From here, the whole room spread out below us like a scene from a movie—men in tailored suits, women in glittering gowns, smiles painted on like masks. Waiters floated between them with trays of champagne and caviar. The string quartet in the corner played something soft and slow, almost mocking in its beauty.

It should have been glamorous.
It should have been perfect.
But all I could see were weapons hidden beneath jackets. All I could hear were lies disguised as laughter.

This was my world.

And I hated it.

I leaned against the railing, resting my chin on my hand. “Look at them,” I whispered, mostly to myself. “Acting like they’re friends. As if half of them aren’t planning how to stab the other in the back.”

Alessandro didn’t respond. He stood a few steps behind me, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd. Always watching. Always guarded.

I turned slightly, studying him.
“Does it ever get exhausting?” I asked quietly.

His gaze shifted toward me. “What?”

“Being this serious all the time. Acting like nothing gets to you.”

He didn’t answer. Not even a flicker of emotion. Just that calm, unreadable stare.

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Right. Silly me for trying to talk to a wall.”

He said nothing, but I could’ve sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch—almost like he was holding back a smile. Almost.

My eyes drifted back down to the crowd below. My father was laughing with a tall man in a gray suit—one of the Russians. The kind of laugh that meant nothing, full of sharp edges and silent threats.

Everyone here was pretending.
Pretending to be civilized.
Pretending they weren’t monsters.

I hated pretending.

My fingers brushed the cool railing as I scanned the room. I didn’t even know what I was looking for—maybe a distraction, maybe danger, maybe just something real in all this artificial perfection.

That was when I saw them.

Two people near the center of the room.

A man and a woman.

At first, they looked like everyone else—close enough to be intimate, far enough to be polite. The woman’s dress was gold, shimmering under the light. Her hand rested lightly on the man’s arm as she said something that made him laugh.

But it wasn’t her that caught my attention.

It was him.

He stood with his back to me, tall, confident, the kind of posture that demanded attention without asking for it. Something about him felt… familiar. The way he moved. The way his shoulders squared when someone walked past him.

I frowned, leaning forward slightly.
No. It couldn’t be.

I tried to shake it off. I was imagining things. My mind was tired, fragile, still haunted by grief and suspicion.
But I couldn’t look away.

My heart began to pound.

I told myself to stop staring. To look away before Alessandro noticed.
But I didn’t.

My eyes stayed locked on the man in the gray suit as he turned slightly, laughing at something the woman said. His profile was still hidden, just enough to keep me guessing.

“Miss Moretti.” Alessandro’s voice broke through my thoughts. Deep. Low. Controlled. “What are you looking at?”

I blinked and forced a casual tone. “Nothing.”

He didn’t buy it. I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and sharp. “You’re tense,” he said.

“I’m surrounded by men who could kill me in my sleep,” I replied dryly. “I think I’m allowed to be tense.”

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second—just enough for me to see something human beneath the stone. “Stay close to me,” he murmured.

I almost laughed. “Don’t you get tired of giving orders?”

He tilted his head. “Don’t you get tired of ignoring them?”

I turned away quickly.

But when I looked back down at the crowd, my heart nearly stopped.

The man was facing the other direction now. His hand rested lightly on the woman’s back as he leaned in to whisper something in her ear.

I blinked hard, my pulse quickening. My breath caught in my throat as I leaned forward, trying to get a clearer view.

The music slowed. The lights dimmed slightly as waiters began lighting the tall candles on each table. The glow shifted, and for one brief second, it landed perfectly on his face.

That second was enough.

My body went still. Every sound in the room faded. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart in my ears.

The man turned fully now, laughing again, and the sight made my blood turn cold.

The champagne glass slipped from my fingers and shattered against the marble floor, but I didn’t even flinch. My whole world had frozen in that single moment.