The Don's Secret Heir

Chapter 12: The Gala

Valentina POV

The Palazzo Reale looked exactly like a building that had never once worried about money. It sat at the end of the street like it owned the city. Every window was lit. Every surface was gold. Two men in white gloves stood at the entrance. They opened doors for people who were able to open doors themselves.

Edoardo had been fixing his tie since we left the hotel.

"You are going to do great," I said.

"I'm not nervous," he said, pulling the tie tighter.

"I didn't say you were nervous."

"Right." He looked at his reflection in the car window. "Do I look nervous?"

"You look like a man who has fixed his tie eleven times in twenty minutes."

He dropped his hands. "It's a power tie. It needs to be perfect."

The car stopped. Outside, a woman in a dress that cost more than my first apartment walked up the steps. I watched her and thought: I have worked for five years to be in this building. I am ready.

"One hour," Edoardo said, turning to me. "That's all I'm asking. If we get the Ferretti deal, I will buy you that coffee machine you want for the office. The one that is very hard to use."

"One hour," I agreed. "And it's a deal. But if he talks about his boat more than twice, we leave early."

"The boat is just something to talk about, "

"Edoardo."

"Fine. Twice. We leave at twice." He looked at me sideways. "You already planned how to leave, didn't you?"

It wasn't a question.

"I always plan how to leave," I said.

He shook his head, but he was smiling. He thought I was being funny. I wasn't. I had walked into enough rooms in my life without knowing how to get out of them. I didn't do that anymore. I knew where the doors were before I ever walked through them.

I didn't tell him I had already decided on forty minutes.

Inside, the ceilings were so high they felt like the sky. The lights looked like frozen explosions. The music was live, four people were playing music that sounded very expensive. Waiters moved through the crowd quietly, carrying trays of fancy food.

Edoardo stood up straight the moment we walked in. I watched it happen, shoulders back, chin up, a big smile. He was good at this. So was I.

We found Antonio Ferretti near the center of the room. He was a large man with a loud laugh. He looked like a friendly uncle who ate too much pasta. He was holding his drink in the wrong hand and didn't seem to care.

"Edoardo! You finally brought the famous Valentina Greco!" He had the voice of a man who was always loud.

"I had to promise her many things to get her here," Edoardo said, nudging me with his elbow. "But look at her. She is the smartest person in this room. Her brain works faster than a computer, Antonio."

"Kind words are expensive, Edoardo," I said, and gave Antonio a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Ferretti. I hear your building projects are changing the city."

"Call me Antonio," he beamed. "And yes, we are building big things. But your clothes! My wife spent all our vacation money in your store last month. Three silk dresses and a coat. I think I am working for you now just to pay her back."

I laughed. It was a real laugh. "Your wife has great taste, Antonio."

"She does," he said, turning serious. "But she also likes things that are made well. In my business, if the work is bad, the building falls down. I like people who do things right."

"Valentina is the best at what she does," Edoardo added. "She runs three shops in Turin. She checks every part of the clothes. We should sit down and talk about how her clothes could be in your new luxury buildings."

"I agree," Antonio said. "Let's have a real meeting. Soon." He clapped his hands together. "Now, I see some food over there that has been waiting for me. Valentina, it was a pleasure."

He walked away. Edoardo turned to face me, looking very happy. "Did you hear that? He's interested. I am a genius."

Then a woman appeared next to me. She had silver hair and stood very straight. "Valentina Greco," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Lucia Bianchi. My group helps new designers. I've been watching your brand."

"I know who you are," I said. Three years ago I had read about her while sitting on the floor of my first apartment. I had kept that page in my notebook. It was still there.

"You're moving fast," she said.

"Not fast enough," I said.

She looked at me for a moment. Then she gave me a card and said, "Call me." Then she was gone.

Edoardo came back instantly. "Was that Lucia Bianchi? Did she give you her card? I am a genius. This was my idea."

"You didn't know she would be here."

"I made it happen with my mind. It doesn't matter." He fixed his tie again, the twelfth time. "This is the best night of my work life."

I smiled, but I was looking around the room to find the exits. I saw two politicians. A writer who had said mean things about my clothes. A woman in red who kept trying to talk to Edoardo.

And then, at the far end of the room, I saw someone who made me feel a way I tried to forget. I had known he was there for a while. The air feels different when a door isn't closed. You don't look, but you just know.

I kept talking to people. I got two more cards. I laughed at the right times and asked good questions. I was doing great. I kept him in the corner of my eye the whole time.

Marco Ricci. He was standing by the window with a glass he wasn't drinking. He was watching me with cold eyes. Few years ago, I trusted him. I spent a long time thinking of how to tell him my secret. He had used my words against me before I could even finish.

I felt a hand on my arm. It was Edoardo. He looked a bit pale. "Valentina," he said quietly. "That man by the window. He has been staring at you for twenty minutes. Do we know him?"

"He's an old mistake," I said. "Stay here."

Marco started walking across the room. He walked like he owned the floor. People moved out of his way. When I was younger, I thought his power was magnetic. Now, I just thought it was annoying. He wanted everyone to feel how important he was.

He stopped two feet away. He was taller than I remembered. He smelled like expensive wood and cold air. He looked at me like I was a problem he had to fix. Around us, two hundred people laughed and talked and had no idea.

I looked him in the eye. I did not look away. I had practiced this in every hard meeting and every hard day for years. I was ready.

He opened his mouth.

"You have a lot of nerve," he said.