Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

POV: EVE

The gala was everything a charity event in Manhattan should be.

Crystal chandeliers caught light and threw it across the ballroom in dancing patterns. The orchestra played something classical and elegant. The crowd was impeccably dressed, the kind of people who wore wealth like other people wore skin. Waiters moved through with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Conversations happened in that carefully modulated tone that suggested money and power speaking to money and power.

Eve looked perfect.

She wore a navy gown that moved like water, her dark hair swept to one side, her makeup executed with the precision of someone who understood that appearance was sometimes strategy. She held a champagne flute and smiled at people she’d never met before, understanding her role in this particular performance of Dimitri’s world.

She was exactly what Dimitri needed her to be in this moment: composed, elegant, confident.

Dimitri was across the ballroom, speaking with a city councilman about something that probably involved business permits and favorable zoning decisions. He was aware of her location at all times...a subtle awareness that came from years of understanding threat assessment and strategic positioning. He knew where she was. He knew where Marco was. He knew where every member of the security team was positioned.

He also knew, because Marco had quietly informed him forty minutes ago, that someone at this gala was not here to celebrate charity.

***

*TWENTY MINUTES EARLIER*

Marco had been standing near the bar, dressed in a tuxedo that made him look like another guest instead of the head of security. He’d noticed the operative immediately, a man with the bearing of someone trained in tactical operations.

The man had been positioned near where Eve would naturally move in the flow of the gala. He’d been holding a serving tray, dressed as wait staff, but Marco’s trained eye had caught the details: the way he was watching Eve’s movement pattern, the way he was tracking her position, the way he was waiting for a specific moment.

Marco had caught Dimitri’s eye across the ballroom and given a subtle nod.

Dimitri understood immediately: threat identified.

Marco had moved into position near the bar, where the operative was preparing Eve’s drink. Marco had watched as the man reached beneath the counter and withdrew a small vial. He’d watched as the man opened the vial and began to pour something clear and colorless into a champagne flute.

Marco had not hesitated.

In one smooth motion, while appearing to order a drink from the bartender, Marco had shifted position and knocked over a tray of glasses. The crash drew attention, guests turned, the man was momentarily distracted by the noise, and in that fraction of a second, Marco had palmed the poisoned flute and replaced it with an untouched one from the bar.

The man finished his task without realizing what had happened. He took the safe flute and moved into the crowd with it, heading toward where Eve was standing.

Eve took the drink with a smile and a thank you. She raised it to her lips and took a sip.

The man melted back into the crowd, disappearing into the service areas of the hotel. He was gone within minutes, his objective supposedly accomplished, completely unaware that his target had never actually consumed the poison.

Marco had handed the poisoned flute to one of the security team members positioned near the kitchen. They would secure it, analyze it, determine what kind of poison The Covenant had chosen to use.

But for now, the gala continued flawlessly.

Eve was laughing at something a woman had said about the charity’s latest initiative when Dimitri appeared beside her.

”Let’s get some air,” Dimitri said, his hand resting on her back.

Eve excused herself from the conversation without hesitation. She’d learned to trust Dimitri’s instincts, to follow his lead when he suggested a change of plans.

He guided her through the ballroom with his hand at the small of her back, a gesture that looked romantic and possessive to anyone watching. They moved up the grand staircase toward the private areas of the hotel, the places where the truly important people conducted their business.

Dimitri was the primary shareholder of this hotel. He owned it in all but name, so no one questioned his movement through the property.

***

The private room was on the top floor, overlooking Manhattan like it belonged to them. It was decorated in the kind of understated luxury that cost more than most people’s houses. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a bar, comfortable furniture, soft lighting.

Dimitri closed the door behind them.

Eve turned to look at him, and in that moment, she understood that something had happened.

”What is it?” she asked, her voice steady but alert.

Dimitri crossed the room and took both of her hands in his.

”Someone tried to poison your drink tonight,” he said.

Eve’s breath caught, and she stared wide eyes at Dimitri.

”We changed it before you drank anything,” Dimitri continued. ”You’re safe.”

”They tried to kill me,” Eve said.

”Yes,” Dimitri confirmed.

Eve looked at their joined hands, then back up at Dimitri’s face.

”Not kidnap,” Eve said quietly. ”Not leverage. Kill.”

”Yes,” Dimitri said again.

Eve’s expression hardened into something resolute.

”Then we need to understand why,” Eve said. ”We need to know their endgame. Because this isn’t random, Dimitri. This isn’t Dante testing. This is The Covenant executing something larger.”

”They’re trying to teach me a lesson,” Dimitri said. ”The same lesson they taught my father when they killed my mother.”

”So this is personal vendetta disguised as corporate warfare,” Eve said. ”They want me dead because I matter to you. They want you destroyed the way they destroyed Your father.”

Dimitri nodded.

”Then we need to respond,” Eve said. ”We need to make them understand that you’re not your father. That this strategy doesn’t work on you.”

”We will,” Dimitri said. ”But first, I need to understand the full scope of what we’re dealing with.”