Chapter 7 - Velvet and Starlight
The private dressing suite on the third floor of Romano’s townhouse felt less like a bedroom and more like a high-end luxury boutique. Racks of designer evening wear lined the mirrored walls, draped in pristine garment bags. Standing before the full-length vanity, I stared at my reflection in absolute disbelief.
The silk gown clung to my curves in a way my red diner uniform never could—a deep midnight-blue velvet that caught the amber light of the crystal sconces, paired with a delicate diamond pendant resting against my collarbone. My dark hair, usually pinned back in a frantic knot during double shifts at Lou's Diner, was styled in soft, cascading waves framing my face.
The door clicked open softly, and Romano stepped into the suite. He was fully dressed in a pristine tuxedo, the crisp white shirt buttoned to the top, though a hint of his gold watch chain still caught the light across his vest. He stopped short, his dark eyes sweeping over me from head to toe in silence. For a long, breathless moment, neither of us spoke.
"You look..." Romano began, his voice dropping an octave as he crossed the polished hardwood floor, stopping just behind me. In the mirror, our eyes met. "Breathtaking doesn't quite cover it."
I looked down, feeling a warm flush spread across my cheeks. "I feel like an impostor, Vincent. In a few hours, we’re walking into a ballroom full of people who spent generations building dynasties in this city. They’ll see right through the velvet and the diamonds. They’ll see the girl who scrubbed greasy counters until three in the morning."
Romano placed both hands gently on my shoulders, his fingers firm and reassuring through the thick fabric of my dress. His touch grounded the chaotic flutter in my chest.
"Let them look," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "They see wealth and power when they look at me. Tonight, when they look at you, they’ll see a survivor who outsmarted every trap they laid. You belong in this room just as much as any of them, Elena. Probably more."
He reached down, lifting a matching velvet evening wrap from the back of the settee and draping it carefully over my shoulders. As he did, his gaze drifted to the small scar on my left wrist—a faint reminder of an old kitchen burn from my first week at the diner. He didn't ask about it; he simply traced his thumb over the skin for a single, lingering second before pulling back.
"Ready to face the lions?" he asked, offering his arm with a faint, wry smile.
I took a deep breath, letting the nervousness harden into a cold, protective resolve. For Lily's future, for my own peace of mind, I would walk into that ballroom with my head held high.
May you like
"Lead the way, Mr. Romano," I replied, slipping my hand securely into the crook of his arm.
The black town car was already idling in the circular gravel drive downstairs when we descended. The rain had cleared, leaving the city streets gleaming under the amber glow of streetlamps as we headed toward the grand historic ballroom downtown.
