Chapter 4 Danger Hidden in Pretty Clothing
EVEET-
Eveet's heart felt like it was in her throat as it pounded a heavy rhythm against her chest.
At his announcement, the doors opened away from her by the servants stationed there, and with a deep breath, she forced her foot forward.
As she drew closer to the top of the stairs, the music slowly faded, and she couldn't help but stop at the top and gaze down at the many eyes that stared back at her.
Nerves and anxiety built a nausea-fueled ball in her stomach. Trying to distract herself, she focused on the newest fashions being flaunted in the ballroom below.
Many women wore fancy feathers or hats that fit snug against curled hair and jewels. The men sported felt hats or slick hair with fitted suits and long coats.
Trying to calm the urge to vomit, she inhaled deeply, causing her lungs to fill with secondhand smoke. The nasty haze hovered over them like some kind of living cloud, and she suddenly wished that she'd kept her champagne flute. Her throat closed, and she had to swallow hard past it.
The voice of the Master of Ceremonies boomed once more around her. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present the jewel of the Matranga family, Miss Eveet Carollo. A vision of grace and the future of the Matranga family legacy. A beauty and elegance that is unmatched. Please, put your hands together in congratulations for her sixteenth birthday."
Beauty and elegance? Did Father write that? She scoffed at the thought.
Eveet knew that people saw her as beautiful, but that's where most stopped looking. They never went deeper. No one expected a ruthless Mafia Princess to be hidden behind such "innocent beauty".
The smile that lifted the sides of her lips even felt genuine. She bowed her head briefly as the crowd erupted into applause. It lasted for several minutes before eventually dying off.
Once it did, she spoke with more poise than she felt, "Thank you all for celebrating with me. I look forward to a grand evening of celebration." The practiced words fell from her lips with ease.
As she ended, the band picked back up and drowned out the murmuring crowd. After a moment, most turned and went back to their drinks and conversation. Only a few key individuals still watched her.
With some of the pressure lifted, she could finally breathe past her heart still stuck in her throat.
Her gaze ran over the crowd as she looked for Luca. When she didn’t find him, she couldn’t stop her shoulders from dropping slightly.
Her eyes fell on someone she was both comforted and annoyed to see. Julien. Her betrothed.
A marriage alliance arranged by their fathers when they were barely out of diapers. He was the only heir to their French partners, the Lafittes, and her father hoped their marriage would solidify their bond with each other.
Julien was handsome with his unconventionally long hair pulled back into a blue ribbon that matched his deep blue eyes. His full lips and thin nose highlighted his French lineage even more as he stood taller than most in the crowd. His all black suit had been pressed and clung to his broad chest and thick thighs. The dark color was a severe contrast to his pale skin.
She should be honored with such a specimen as her betrothed, but all she could think was that he'd want to dance with her tonight. While doing so, he'd make sure his feelings for her were known.
Julien was chivalrous, and she knew he truly cared for her already, but she couldn't and wouldn't have those types of feelings for him.
Still smiling, she began to descend the stairs, Julien's eyes tracking her movements like the hawk he reminded her of.
The red carpet that covered the steps muffled the sound of her heels. She kept her hand on the railing as she went, but once more, movement on the upper balcony caught her attention.
Hoping to see Luca, she stopped and swept her gaze over the upper half of the ballroom. As she did, she felt a light breeze blow past her head.
For the party, she'd kept her long hair bundled to one side, and it hung loosely over one shoulder. With the breeze, something pulled at her hair and pushed it off her shoulder.
Confused, she looked back to where she'd seen movement a moment ago, and standing beside one of the thick columns that held up the large room was a man dressed in all black. In his hand was a Walther PP, its barrel lengthened by a silencer.
He was raising it once more, as his first shot had missed her, and all she could do was stand and stare.
Then his body jerked, his head twisting at an odd angle, before he collapsed to the floor. The enforcer who claimed his life swiftly hid behind the column, and she couldn't help but briefly wonder who it was before gasps hit the crowd, and all mayhem broke out.
To Eveet, it felt like a switch had been flipped as time seemed to slow.
Once again, someone had tried to take her life. Barely sixteen and she'd survived dozens of assassination attempts. She'd stopped counting, but she'd never forget each time her life flashed before her eyes.
Who wants my death? Why do they keep trying? Why didn't I react better?
Fury surged through her. First at her assailant, then at herself for standing there like prey, poised perfectly for death.
Julien suddenly appeared at her side, pulling her from her berating thoughts and bringing time back to a quick, chaotic flow of the ballroom.
"Eveet! Are you injured?" His hands gripped her arms, almost painfully. Fear laced through his features and eyes, and her stomach turned. Would he always see her as a fragile flower that needed protection?
More anger bubbled up, and she had to lower her head to keep her composure before saying, "I'm fine. The bullet missed me."
"How can you be so calm about this?" His voice rose with his frustration.
She looked back up at his face, and his own anger had begun to filter through his features.
Before she could respond, several more enforcers had run up to surround her and shuffle her off the stairs.
The music had stopped, and the loud murmur of the attendees grew deafening in her ears as the enforcers guided her through the bunched groups to a door that was in the far corner of the ballroom. It was nearly hidden, save for the massive guards standing on either side.
They were taking her to the smoke room, where they kept the gambling tables.
She had barely sat down in a thick red armchair when she heard Luca's deep voice.
"Did it hit you, Eveet?" His calm voice saying her name silenced all the noise in her mind, and an emotion other than anger flew through her, sending butterflies into her stomach.