Chapter 6 - The Charity Gala Ambush
To celebrate the Grand Bellandi Hotel’s milestone anniversary—and to officially signal his return to society—Luca organized a black-tie charity gala in the hotel’s famous crystal ballroom.
The ballroom was filled with the city’s elite: politicians, foreign diplomats, business tycoons, and high-ranking syndicate bosses dressed in expensive suits.
Clara stood near the balcony, feeling out of place despite her breathtaking appearance. Luca had personally commissioned a navy-blue silk gown for her, cut perfectly to compliment her full figure, with silver embroidery along the sleeves that matched her dark eyes. Her hair was styled in soft waves around her face.
"Look at her," whispered a group of wealthy socialites standing near the champagne fountain. "Isn't that the former maid? The one Hale fired before he disappeared?"
"She’s huge," another woman sneered behind her glass. "What could a man like Luca Bellandi possibly see in a oversized servant? She probably tricked him into taking her in."
Clara felt a lump form in her throat. She stepped back toward the balcony doors, her old insecurities surging back with terrifying force. She knew she didn't fit into their world of size-zero dresses, diamond necklaces, and fake smiles.
Suddenly, a warm, broad hand rested gently on the small of her back.
Luca stepped beside her, looking radiant in a dark midnight-blue tuxedo. He didn't look at the crowd; he looked directly at Clara, his eyes full of fiery devotion.
"Ignore them," Luca commanded softly, leaning in close to her ear. "They are hollow statues wrapped in silk. You are the only real person in this room."
"Luca, they're right," Clara whispered, looking down at her dress. "I don't belong here. I'm not elegant, I'm not thin, and I don't know how to talk to these people."
Luca gently took her chin in his fingers, raising her face until her eyes met his.
"You possess a beauty they could never buy with all their blood money," Luca said fiercely. "You have a pure heart, Clara. In my world, that makes you a queen."
Before Clara could respond, the music slowed. Luca extended his hand toward her with a slight bow.
"May I have this dance, Miss Clara?"
The entire ballroom fell silent as the Mafia King led his plus-size former maid to the center of the dance floor. The crowd gasped and whispered, but Luca paid them no mind. He placed his hand firmly around her waist, pulled her close, and spun her across the marble floor with effortless grace.
For a few golden minutes, Clara forgot about her past, her size, and her doubts. She was soaring in the arms of a man who looked at her as if she were the only woman in existence.
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Suddenly, the crystal chandeliers flickered.
The heavy glass windows along the terrace shattered with a deafening roar as armed men dressed in dark tactical gear burst into the ballroom, guns raised.
