My Husband is a Gangster

Chapter 1

That night, the Grand Aurelius Hotel shone in the center of the city like a crown. The ballroom was alive with clinking glasses, laughter, and the low murmur of politics, while its marble floors shone under crystal chandeliers. Expensive perfume and the aroma of roses filled the air.

With a clipboard in hand, Amara Daniels stood close to the grand staircase, absorbing everything with evident care. She had been planning this gala for weeks; she was responsible for every design element, light fixture, and centerpiece. When her name finally emerged from the sea of inexperienced event planners, this night was meant to be the turning point in her career.

Her carefully chosen navy-blue gown was both sophisticated enough to blend in with the guests and uncomplicated enough to allow her to move without drawing attention to herself. She had no intention of outshining anyone. Her purpose was to ensure that everything went according to plan. And it had up to this point.

Until the doors opened.

At first, Amara didn't notice him. She became aware of the change. A wave of silence swept through the room. People whirled. A few murmurs started but were soon silenced. Then he came into sight.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. impeccably attired in a black suit that seemed custom-tailored for him. Despite not grinning, he effortlessly filled the room with his presence. Introductions were unnecessary; the way people moved aside to make room for him was sufficient. He mattered, whoever he was.

A young woman who might have passed for a movie star was standing next to him. She clung to his arm with joyful energy, her laughter a bit too loud, her silver dress glistening in the sunlight with each step. His quiet intensity contrasted with her vivacious recklessness, making them complete opposites. Even though they appeared to be like a couple, there was something undeniable about the way he led her through the crowd: he was steady, protective, and almost fatherly.

Amara noticed that she was staring, but she quickly averted her gaze.

"Miss Daniels."

She was startled back by the voice of Mr. Greaves, the evening's host. He had a tight face. "There is a problem close to table five. Take care of it discreetly.

Amara's head sank as she followed his gaze.

Now that she was apart from the man she had entered with, the silver-dressed woman was chatting jokingly with a senator's wife while leaning over a table. She had made too many gestures in her excitement. A red wine glass fell. One of the high-ranking women on Amara's guest list had it spill over her ivory satin dress.

Across the table, gasps were heard. After standing firmly with her lips pressed into a sharp line, the senator's wife froze in shock.

"My goodness, I'm so sorry!" The young woman stumbled, reaching for a napkin and futilely wiping away the smearing stain. Her hands were clumsy and her laughter was nervous now. "I didn't intend to…… It was an accident, to be honest.”

"My dress is ruined!" the woman yelled, taking a step back.

Already the whispers had begun. Amara didn't think twice. She hurried across the room, entering the chaos as if she had been prepared for such situations.

“Permit me, please, ma'am.” Amara spoke in a steady, low, and businesslike tone. She gently guided the senator's wife away from the onlookers by taking her arm. "We have emergency wardrobe personnel ready for such circumstances. We can remove the stain right away if you follow me. Nobody will be aware of this or even recall it.”

She spoke with enough assurance to cut through the woman's anger. The senator's wife gave the silver-dressed criminal one last look before letting herself be escorted off.

The rumors had subsided by the time Amara got back. The incident was barely covered by the orchestra's swelling. It appeared as if nothing had occurred.

She spoke with enough assurance to cut through the woman's anger. The senator's wife gave the silver-dressed criminal one last look before letting herself be escorted off.

The rumors had subsided by the time Amara got back. The incident was barely covered by the orchestra's swelling. It appeared as if nothing had occurred.

However, someone had been observing.

The man in the black suit stood still across the ballroom, staring at Amara. His eyes were dark, piercing, and unforgiving, but his face revealed nothing. As if putting her away for later, he examined her with both curiosity and calculation. He leaned slightly and spoke only to the woman in the silver dress when she sheepishly came back to his side.

"You're fortunate she was present," he whispered, his tone low but forceful. "Vanessa, you can't continue to be so reckless."

Vanessa, a young woman, pouted and put her arm through his again, saying, "I said I was sorry." Besides, she took care of it. Don't be so grave.

He clenched his jaw. "You're not getting it. Errors are not always forgiven. You will eventually discover the hard way.”

Vanessa simply laughed it off and rolled her eyes. However, he had already returned his focus to Amara.

She felt it, like heat against her skin, even as she tried to concentrate on her checklist. His eyes remained fixed, unreadable. Her pen shook a little against the paper as she shifted uneasily. Nothing, she told herself. Women were always viewed by wealthy men as things to be obtained. However, there was a shift in his gaze that made her feel more uneasy than she wanted to acknowledge.

Curiosity gnawed at her as she turned away, preoccupied with the servers. Who was he? Why did people eschew him as if he were a predator or, worse, a member of the royal family?

Amara saw him again at the edge of the room when the speeches for the evening started. He didn't socialize with the other rich men. He observed. Observed. And he instantly tensed up, his hand closing around her arm with a silent urgency when someone bumped into Vanessa and spilled a drop of champagne on her dress. He whispered something that only she could hear, but there was no mistaking the fearful protectiveness in his eyes.

Naturally, Vanessa dismissed it with another laugh.

Amara reminded herself to look away. She didn't care about him. It was her responsibility to ensure that this night ended peacefully. Nevertheless, she found herself staring at him one final time as the gala came to an end and the guests started to head for their chauffeured cars.

As he led Vanessa out, he stood at the bottom of the stairs and gently placed one hand on her back. Still talking, still reckless, she leaned into him. However, his gaze returned to Amara. This time, he gave a faint nod with his head that was strong but barely noticeable.

There was a certain weight to the nod. I saw you was conveyed by the nod.

Amara's heart skipped treacherously. She quickly averted her gaze, but the idea persisted.

She was unaware that Damian Cole was the man who had just acknowledged her. that just the mention of his name caused opponents to shudder, rivals to disappear, and politicians to soften their voices.

No, she only knew that she had made an impression on a mysterious, powerful man tonight. And even though she couldn't figure out why... She had a desire to see him once more.