MY MAFIA

The gallery game

Mr. Dubois's eyes lingered on her, a curious glint in their depths. "Anna," he repeated slowly, as if testing the name on his tongue. "A beautiful name for a discerning eye. Tell me, Anna, what brings you to such an exclusive event? Are you a collector yourself, or perhaps… an admirer of the elusive?"

Susan's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, but her "Anna" persona remained cool, poised. "A bit of both, Mr. Dubois," she purred, her voice a low, confident murmur. It was amazing how easily the lies spilled, how naturally this new identity fit. "I appreciate the beauty, of course, but I'm always on the hunt for something truly unique. Something with a story that whispers secrets."

She watched his reaction carefully. Did he flinch? Did his gaze shift even slightly? He simply offered a small, knowing smile. "Indeed. And this evening, the whispers are louder than usual, wouldn't you agree?" He gestured subtly with his champagne glass towards a group of men huddled in hushed conversation near a large, abstract sculpture. Their faces were serious, their movements sharp.

"Loudest when they're trying to be silent," Susan countered, her eyes flicking to the group. She remembered Marco's words: Every small detail was a possible hint. These men, their tension, it was a hint.

Mr. Dubois chuckled, a dry, rustling sound. "A keen observation, Anna. It seems you possess a talent for listening between the lines." He then turned his attention back to her, a directness that made her skin prickle. "Perhaps you'd be interested in a truly rare piece, then? Something not on public display. A private viewing, perhaps, later this week?"

This was it. The offer. The bait. Susan's mind raced. Dante wanted her to find the "missing piece," and something "not on public display" sounded exactly like what he was after. But she had to play it right.

"A private viewing sounds intriguing, Mr. Dubois," she said, her voice laced with a careful blend of interest and nonchalance. "However, my schedule is quite… demanding. What exactly is this 'rare piece' you speak of? One likes to know if the effort will be suitably rewarded."

He gave her another one of his knowing smiles. "Let's just say it's a piece that has been long awaited. And its story, my dear Anna, is one that will certainly captivate you. A story of power and legacy."

Power and legacy. More code words, she thought. This was getting intense. But she couldn't show her eagerness.

"Perhaps," she mused, pretending to consider it. "If you can convince me it's worth my time. My curiosity, I admit, has been piqued."

Mr. Dubois's smile widened, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "Excellent. I will have my assistant contact you with the details. It would be an honor to share such a treasure with someone of your… unique perspective." He then gracefully excused himself, melting back into the crowd, leaving Susan to wonder if she'd just walked straight into a trap, or if she was finally on the verge of uncovering exactly what Dante Moretti needed.

She took a slow sip of her champagne, the bubbles dancing on her tongue. The game had truly begun, and Susan, the waitress who was now "Anna," felt a strange, thrilling surge of anticipation. This wasn't just acting anymore. This was living on the edge.