Chapter 10
Emily Windsor's POV
Three days passed in a blur.
The Astor Estate perched on the eastern hills, a historic manor famed for its exclusivity and opulence—the preferred venue for New York's elite to host their most private affairs.
When Luke's understated yet luxurious Maybach glided to a stop outside the entrance, I peered through the window at the parade of exotic cars lining the drive and the glittering guests laughing in small clusters, dressed to the nines.
I'd spent the last three days buried in research, barely sleeping, studying every potential attendee at tonight's gala, searching for any thread connecting them to the Victor family's money laundering operation.
But the deeper I dug, the more my stomach dropped.
Every single one of these people wielded enough power that their mere whisper could make Wall Street tremble. Their wealth and influence were woven into an impenetrable web.
"Nervous?" Luke's voice broke through the silence in the car.
I turned. He wore an impeccably tailored black bespoke suit tonight, paired with a matching shirt, the top two buttons undone to reveal a sliver of pale skin. Gone was his usual languid ease, replaced by a razor-sharp intensity that bordered on austere.
He was watching me, those ice-blue eyes searching.
"Just wondering who our witness will be tonight," I said evenly.
Luke didn't answer, just curved his lips into a faint smirk. The door swung open, and he stepped out first before extending his hand toward me like a gentleman. His palm was broad, knuckles defined, fingertips still carrying the faint scent of cigar smoke and cedar.
I hesitated for a heartbeat before placing my hand in his.
His fingertips were warm against my cool skin, brushing lightly across the back of my hand—a jolt of electricity shot up my spine, making my pulse stutter.
Tonight, I'd chosen a wine-red velvet gown with a vintage square neckline that exposed my collarbones, the skirt swaying with each step, catching the light in dark, shimmering waves.
This was a color no lawyer would ever wear in a courtroom—too bold, too dangerous—but tonight, I needed the disguise.
I took Luke's arm as we entered the ballroom.
The opulent hall glittered with crystal chandeliers, classical music drifting through the air like perfume.
Our entrance immediately drew every eye in the room.
"Mr. Reed, good evening." A silver-haired banker approached first, raising his glass respectfully.
"Mr. Carlos," Luke acknowledged him with a curt nod, his voice flat but carrying undeniable authority. "This is Emily—a friend of mine."
A simple introduction, yet it felt like an invisible brand, binding me irrevocably to him.
I could feel the banker's gaze shift toward me, his expression sharpening with new interest and calculation.
Luke guided me through the crowd. Wherever he went, people instinctively parted to let him pass.
Through the murmur of conversations around us, I finally pieced it together: Luke wasn't just some low-level member of Mafia.
He was a Victor.
Or more accurately, he was the future of the Victor family.
The next Don, with that dragon crest seared into his very identity.
He led me to a terrace off the corner of the ballroom. The air was fresher here, offering a view of the estate's illuminated gardens below.
"You're the Victor family heir, Luke Victor." I didn't phrase it as a question—just stated the fact.
"Seems like you've already figured it out." Luke wasn't surprised. He plucked two champagne flutes from a passing server's tray, offering me one.
I didn't take it. Instead, I held his gaze. "So that's why you wanted me on this case. The money laundering investigation is just a cover. Your real goal is to use me to root out the rot inside your family."
"Miss Windsor, you're sharp." Luke took a slow sip of champagne, his ice-blue eyes unfathomable in the night. "The Victor family tree has some branches that have gone rotten. They need pruning. And your credentials make you the perfect blade for the job."
He spoke as if discussing a mundane business transaction, not a family purge that could decide countless lives.
"Why would I help you?" My voice turned cold. "Don't forget—my life's work is putting people like you behind bars."
"Because we're on the same side now." Luke set down his glass and stepped closer, his tall frame casting me entirely in shadow. "Jacob threw this case at you to make you the scapegoat. If things blow up, you'll be the common enemy of both the Victor family and those Wall Street vultures. You think you can take them all on alone?"
His words were surgical, slicing through my forced composure to expose the brutal reality beneath.
"Emily," his voice dropped lower, laced with persuasion, "helping me means helping yourself. I'll give you everything you want—all the evidence on the Victor family's money laundering operation. Enough to send the truly filthy ones to hell. Enough to deliver your justice."
I stared at him, trying to find a crack in that impenetrable gaze, but all I saw was my own pale, wavering reflection.
Just then, a smooth voice interrupted from behind us. "Luke, aren't you going to introduce me to this lovely lady?"
I turned to see a man in a white suit approaching. He looked to be in his early thirties, blonde and blue-eyed, classically handsome, with a disarming smile—but his azure eyes held a sharp edge beneath the charm.
"Marco." Luke's tone was unreadable. He shifted slightly, positioning himself a half-step in front of me—a subtle protective gesture that sent an unwelcome flutter through my chest.
"This is Emily, my..." Luke paused, his gaze landing on me with a hint of amusement. "Date."
Not friend. Not colleague.
Date.
In this context, the word carried unmistakable implications of possession and claim.
Marco's smile deepened. He extended his hand toward me. "Miss Windsor, pleasure to meet you. I'm Marco Victor."
Victor.
Another one.
I shook his hand briefly, my fingertips ice-cold. "Hello."
"Miss Windsor, you seem unfamiliar with me," Marco said, his eyes roving over my face, smile never faltering, "but I've heard quite a bit about you. New York's most formidable attorney—youngest partner at a top firm with an unbroken winning streak. Truly impressive."
His words sounded like flattery, but they sent a chill down my spine.
He knew everything about me.