Alessia Mancini
We moved through the glittering crowd, the soft clink of champagne glasses and murmur of conversation washing over us. I felt Giovanni's hand at the small of my back, a steady, grounding presence as we navigated the sea of wealth and influence.
Our first target came into view – Don Caruso, a portly man with beady eyes and an ill-fitting tuxedo. As we approached, I caught the faintest whiff of cheap cologne beneath the scent of expensive cigars.
"Ah, Giovanni!" Don Caruso boomed, his voice carrying a false joviality. "And this must be your... companion for the evening."
I felt Giovanni tense beside me, but I stepped forward with a practiced smile. "Alessia Mancini," I introduced myself, extending my hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Don Caruso."
He took my hand, his grip a
