The mask and the rose
204 Words
The Moretti Charity Gala gleamed like a trap wrapped in gold. Under the name Elias Dante, Elias blended with Rome’s elite — tuxedo crisp, smile practiced, eyes sharp. He’d infiltrated missions before, but none involved dancing with the woman who once held a gun to his chest.
Across the ballroom, Isabella Moretti moved like a secret no one could keep. The red of her dress cut through the crowd, daring him to come closer.
He did.
“Mr. Dante,” she greeted, voice smooth but laced with suspicion. “You look familiar.”
“Maybe in another life,” he replied, offering his hand.
They danced. Close. Careful. Dangerous. Her perfume was soft jasmine — the same scent from that rainy night. She was testing him; he was trying not to fall.
When the music stopped, she leaned in. “You wear the mask well, Ghost.”
His heart stalled. For a second, the crowd vanished.
Before he could respond, she slipped away, her red dress vanishing into the sea of guests — leaving only a single rose tucked into his pocket.
He looked down at it, smirking faintly.
She knew. And she wanted him to know she knew.
The game had officially begun.
- Writer
