Chapter 50
After Isabella sat down, she didn't know how to start the conversation.
Laura asked around and found out that Parrish Graves was still upstairs, though getting up there wasn't guaranteed.
Isabella took a deep breath and glanced back at Henley by the door. The silent giant, hidden in the shadow of a pillar, gave her a slight nod.
"Is this arrangement okay?" she asked in a low voice.
"It's fine, Miss," Henley's voice came through the tiny earpiece, "Parrish is up there. He's one of the key distributors you need. Laura did her homework this time."
Isabella understood.
This wasn't a random encounter—it was a carefully planned meeting.
She adjusted the skirt of her deep blue silk gown and walked toward the staircase with Laura by her side.
The receptionist was a blonde woman with flawless makeup. She looked them up and down as if sizing up merchandise, "How can I help you?"
"We're looking for Mr. Graves," Isabella said with a smile, "He's our product distributor."
"He's upstairs," the woman replied, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow, "But I'll need to see your invitation."
Isabella's heart sank. She turned to Laura, "Do we have an invitation?"
"God, this party is supposed to be open to the public," Laura muttered under her breath, "Who knew meeting a distributor required an invitation?"
The blonde woman crossed her arms, her smile turning shallow, "I'm sorry, but without an invitation, I can't let you in."
"Wait a moment," Isabella said, turning her face slightly and whispering into the microphone on her collar, "Henley, can you get us an invitation?"
A soft chuckle came through the earpiece, "Give me five minutes, Miss."
During the five-minute wait, Isabella felt countless eyes on her.
Men and women in custom-made gowns and glittering jewelry passed by, their curious and judgmental stares unhidden.
The silk gown suddenly felt constricting, every inch of fabric reminding her how out of place she was in this world.
Just as Isabella was about to give up, Henley's steady voice came through, "It's done, Miss. Tell the receptionist you're guests of Mr. Luca."
Isabella did as instructed.
The blonde woman's expression changed instantly—from arrogance to surprise, then to respect, "Please forgive my rudeness, ladies. This way, please."
The moment they stepped upstairs, the noise and lights hit them like a wave.
A massive crystal chandelier hung from a 30-foot ceiling, scattering thousands of light fragments.
An orchestra played lazy jazz on a stage, while men and women spun gracefully on the dance floor. Champagne towers sparkled with golden hues under the lights.
"Wow," Laura whispered in awe, "I didn't expect it to be this fancy up here. I'll never understand the world of the rich."
Isabella stood on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd for Parrish.
Her deep blue gown held its own among the extravagant outfits, its simple cut making it stand out with elegance.
A few men's gazes followed her, but she didn't notice.
Finally, in a corner of the ballroom, Isabella spotted her target.
Parrish, the distributor known locally for his sharp business sense, was laughing and chatting with a red-haired beauty.
Isabella wove through the crowd, her heels clicking confidently on the marble floor.
When she stopped in front of Parrish, he turned to her, a flash of admiration in his eyes.
"Hello, beautiful," Parrish said with a well-practiced smile, "Do we know each other, or do you just think I'm handsome enough to chat with?"
Isabella took half a step back, keeping a safe distance, "No, I'm a consultant for the factory. Isabella Lorraine. I'm also Mr. Luca's secretary and accountant."
Parrish's smile widened, shifting from polite socializing to genuine curiosity, "Wow."
He looked her up and down, his gaze no longer casual but filled with interest, "So you're the woman everyone's talking about."
"What do you mean?" Isabella frowned, confused.
"I don't think this is the place for serious talk," Parrish said, glancing around as more eyes turned their way, "You're drawing quite a bit of attention."
He turned to the red-haired woman, elegantly kissing her hand, "Excuse me, I need to step away for a moment."
Parrish made a quick phone call, giving brief instructions, then gestured to Isabella, "There's a quiet room ready upstairs."
Laura leaned close to Isabella's ear, "Since you walked in, I've noticed a lot of people staring at you. Vitale's influence in this city might be bigger than we thought."
Parrish led them through a side door and up a spiral staircase covered with thick carpet.
Henley followed silently, keeping a three-step distance.
The hallway in the fifth-floor VIP area was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the noise below.
The room was the epitome of Eldoria's luxury.
Leather sofas, glass chandeliers, and expensive oil paintings on the walls.
Besides Parrish, there was another man in the room.
"This is Simon," Parrish introduced, "He's an assistant to Vitale's cousin, Victor. Funny enough, he's here to talk business with me, too."
Simon, a man in his thirties wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit, stood up and shook Isabella's hand politely, "Nice to meet you, Ms. Lorraine. I didn't expect you to be this stunning."
"Thank you," Isabella replied courteously, subtly pulling her hand back.
She always kept her distance from unfamiliar men.
Not because she was reserved, but because she could imagine Vitale's reaction if he found out.
His jealousy both scared her and secretly thrilled her.
"Have a seat," Parrish said, signaling a waiter to bring coffee, "Honestly, I thought Vitale would come in person."
"He sent me to handle everything," Isabella said, sitting down gracefully, her silk skirt spreading over the sofa like a deep blue lake.
Parrish and Simon exchanged a meaningful look.
"Alright," Parrish began, "I know what you're here to discuss. Costa, that jerk, took my advance payment. One and a half million euros, gone just like that."
"We're gathering evidence," Isabella said, pulling out a tablet from her clutch, "Here are some of the accounts..."
"No need to show me," Parrish waved a hand, "I trust Vitale's judgment. If he sent you, it means you can handle this."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice, "But I'll warn you. Costa isn't working alone. He's got people backing him."
Simon chimed in, "That's why Mr. Malone sent me. We suspect Costa is tied to Jackson, who's been challenging the Luca family's authority lately."
Isabella's heart skipped a beat.
Jackson.
She'd heard that name in a phone call between Victor and Vitale.
"I'll report this to Mr. Luca," she said, staying calm, "But right now, we need to deal with the factory crisis. The workers haven't been paid in three months."
Parrish nodded, "I can cover part of the payment upfront, but only if..."
He looked at Isabella, "You guarantee this shipment will be delivered on time. My clients are waiting too."
The negotiation lasted forty minutes.
When Isabella left the room, she had not only secured Parrish's promise of an advance payment but also obtained intel on Jackson from Simon.
"You did great, Ms. Lorraine." Henley's voice came through the earpiece, carrying a rare tone of approval.