Page 62 of Dark Alliance
When I tried this earlier, pride bloomed in my chest. I did this. Caterina Ricci, Curatorial Executive Assistant.
Damn, I’m good.
Thanks to my now-active sex life, I’m feeling more empowered these days. Lust has a way of making you seeyourself in a new light and injecting a little extra brightness into the world.
The new woman in me wears a formfitting chartreuse gown with an asymmetrical neckline, a sheer scarf draped over my left arm that billows behind me as if I’m being chased by smoke. Not a color many people can pull off, but the hues are magical with my skin tone and dark hair.
Tonight’s gala is the perfect place to show it off too.
Rare to my nature, I’m wearing my hair down. I ironed out the curls to create Hollywood-glam waves and added a diamond clip on one side to accentuate the teardrop earrings my father purchased for my eighteenth birthday.
My tennis bracelet dangles on my right wrist beside my honeysuckle tattoo. I broke out the Jimmy Choo glitter pumps to accompany the ensemble, mainly because I can walk in them for hours. I’ll need to hustle tonight to ensure the gala guests enjoy themselves while I also navigate the closed-door meeting between my father and the organization.
The best news is that Father could come.
I nearly cried when I saw him in his green pin-striped suit. He was going to wear it for the holidays but never left his suite. Needless to say, I had to force those tears right back down. After all, my smoky eyes took me thirty minutes to complete.
At some point tonight, he’ll be meeting with the executor of his will. We planned for that conversation to coincide with the gala as soon as he got sick.
Though Father should improve now that we have an antidote, he insisted on proceeding as scheduled.
Neither Nino nor I are privy to what kind of amendments he’s making to his will, but based on last night’s conversation, I have a few guesses.
Nino has no clue that he might lose his position as the Ricci heir.
My stomach squirms, so I shove the thought aside to deal with later.
Father’s also decided the Roguilins are out and the Gallaghers are in.
Nino turned every shade in the color wheel at that announcement, but he didn’t fight the declaration. No one can argue the role Connor played in saving our father’s life. We owe Finn Gallagher and the Irish Kings a chance to prove themselves.
Severing ties with Oleg Belinski will be another story. My brother got in deep with them, and Father said we’d strategize over the next week about how to best amputate the unwanted appendage.
So many words in that sentence had me cringing.
I spy Curator Pruitt from across the room, who’s raving about the new art and the beloved artists responsible.
He’ll handle the schmoozing. Everything else falls to me.
Champagne flutes flow through the crowd on silver platters. Add in two full bars and a few vintage bottles from the museum’s basement, and our patrons are imbibing to their hearts’ content. Any true wine connoisseurs will indulge in one of the red’s from my father’s personal collection. He “donated” the vault three years ago, when I started working at the Cosmopolitan. We Italians take our wine very seriously. He said lugging along a case of wine every time he had an appointment in Manhattan was a waste of energy.
He wasn’t wrong, and having his cellar at my fingertips has been great for business.
I check on the snacks in the kitchen, then pop into the employee halls to check on my father. He’s sipping on a glass of Chianti and smiling from behind my desk. So far, so good.
I need to mingle, but before I brave into the nucleus of shimmering fabric, the back of my neck tingles.
Enter Connor Gallagher.
Is it possible for a man to rob you of your breath? I place my palm against my chest and inhale deeply to calm my heartbeat.
His midnight blue tuxedo is perfection against his lightly tanned skin. His waves sit perfectly coiffed on the top of his head, smoothed back with gel and visibly soft enough to tousle.
Move over, James Bond.
I head straight for him, but he pivots and marches back outside.
That’s odd. After the past few days, I doubt he’s avoiding me, so whatishe doing?
