Chapter 171

Chapter 171

An hour later, I slipped into the emerald velvet haute couture gown that had just arrived from Paris this morning.

The dress featured a plunging V-neckline and a daring thigh-high slit, tailored with exquisite precision to accentuate every curve of my body.

I wore no excessive jewelry—just the pink diamond necklace Vincent had given me around my neck. My hair fell in loose waves down my back.

Vincent changed into a formal black tuxedo.

He stood before the full-length mirror in the foyer, watching me descend the stairs. A scorching fire instantly ignited in his dark eyes.

He strode toward me with long strides, his large hand gripping my waist and pulling me flush against his chest.

"I'm starting to regret taking you out," he murmured against my ear, his voice rough with desire. "I should lock you up in the manor where no one else can see you."

I smiled and reached up to adjust his bow tie. "Let's go, Mr. Godfather. Don't keep your guests waiting."

The convoy of black armored vehicles pulled into a private estate on the shores of Lake Zurich.

This was a gathering place for European aristocratic families, with the highest security protocols.

The ballroom was brilliantly lit, massive crystal chandeliers refracting cold, opulent light.

Impeccably dressed gentlemen and socialites held champagne flutes, conversing in hushed tones in small clusters.

The air was thick with expensive perfume, cigar smoke, and aged wine.

When Vincent and I appeared at the ballroom entrance arm-in-arm, the low murmur of conversation instantly died down.

Countless gazes converged on us from all directions.

Vincent's notorious reputation and power were equally formidable in Europe, and he rarely brought a female companion to such formal occasions.

Now, standing beside him, I immediately became the center of attention.

I could clearly feel the stares from the women around us.

Those self-proclaimed noble European socialites and heiresses looked at my haute couture gown and rare pink diamonds, their eyes churning with undisguised envy, curiosity, and jealousy.

To them, I—with my unfamiliar Asian features—was nothing more than a passing fancy for the Corleone family's patriarch.

Vincent paid no attention to the surrounding stares.

He led me straight to the center of the ballroom, where several European banking executives and arms dealers immediately approached with ingratiating smiles.

"Mr. Corleone, good evening." A silver-haired Swiss banker raised his glass respectfully. "And this beautiful lady is...?"

Vincent didn't bother with pleasantries. He stopped, his long arm naturally encircling my waist and drawing me closer.

Then he raised his head, his cold, penetrating gaze sweeping across the entire room.

"Ladies and gentlemen." Vincent's voice was low and steady, yet through the sound system it carried clearly to every corner of the ballroom. "I'd like to formally introduce Miss Elena, daughter of the Lucas family, and my one and only fiancée."

The ballroom fell silent for half a second, then erupted in suppressed gasps and whispers.

Daughter of the Lucas family. Vincent Corleone's fiancée.

These two identities combined were enough to make everyone present reassess my worth.

Those gazes that had been filled with contempt and jealousy instantly changed color, now heavy with awe and wariness.

Vincent didn't give them time to process this information. He continued: "Our engagement ceremony will be held mid-next month. At that time, the Corleone family's European shipping routes and financial operations will be jointly managed by Elena."

The room exploded.

Joint management of core operations!

This was no ordinary marriage alliance—this was complete sharing of power and wealth.

In this profit-driven arena, Vincent had used the most blunt method to elevate me directly to the highest throne of Europe's underground and financial world.

Amid the reverent applause and hollow compliments, I held my champagne flute and calmly dealt with the powerful figures who swarmed to curry favor.

In the midst of this noise and commotion, I keenly noticed an unusual gaze.

This gaze was completely different from the surrounding fawning or fearful looks.

It was extremely calm, carrying a kind of superior scrutiny, mixed with an inexplicable probing quality.

I followed the direction of the gaze, looking through the crowd.

At the edge of the VIP corridor on the second floor stood a man.

He wore a tailored navy double-breasted suit, holding a glass of whiskey.

He was tall and imposing, with chiseled features and a pair of gray-blue eyes that were cold and sharp.

He exuded an intense old-money aristocratic aura—refined, arrogant, and tinged with a deeply concealed danger.

He wasn't speaking to anyone, just standing there alone, his gaze locked directly on my face.

We held eye contact across the distance for several seconds.

"That's Jocelyn Rochester." Vincent followed my gaze, his fingers tightening slightly at my waist, his voice edged with coldness and wariness. "Head of the Rochester family. Zurich's largest financial and money-laundering magnate."

I withdrew my gaze and looked at Vincent. "Your archenemy?"

"Yes." Vincent gave a cold laugh, a flash of killing intent in his eyes. "The Corleone family's expansion in Europe has threatened the Rochester family's foundation. We've clashed in the shadows many times these past two years. We're evenly matched. He's a dangerous lunatic."

I looked up at the second floor again. Jocelyn was still standing there, his gaze unwavering.

My instincts, honed in the slums and New York's underworld, told me something was off about the way Jocelyn was looking at me.

It wasn't how one looked at an archenemy's fiancée, nor how one looked at a competitor.

He was looking at me with extremely complex emotions swirling in those gray-blue eyes—shock, confusion, and a strange familiarity that seemed to transcend time.

He looked at me as if I were someone he'd known for a long time, someone who should have disappeared long ago.

My brow furrowed.

I'd never been to Europe, let alone met the head of the Rochester family.

Why was he looking at me like that? Was it also because of that panda blood test report? Or because of that mysterious old woman?

The gala lasted several hours.

I accompanied Vincent as he networked with dozens of key political and business figures. The constant tension and pain from my heels left me exhausted.

"Tired?" Vincent noticed my condition and kissed the top of my head. "Go to the private lounge on the second floor and rest. I'll come find you after I finish with these old bastards."

"Alright." I nodded, handed my empty champagne flute to a server, and headed toward the private elevator, lifting my skirt.

The second-floor corridor was carpeted with thick rugs, extremely quiet, isolating the noise from the ballroom below.

Antonio started to follow, but I waved him off at the elevator entrance. I just needed ten minutes alone.