The ballroom of one of the city's most exclusive hotels is filled with several hundred guests tonight. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over white tablecloths and champagne glasses, a string quartet plays somewhere amid conversations and muted laughter, and at first glance it could be any charity gala of the city's high society.
On second glance, however, there are too many men in the room whose names better not appear together on a guest list.
Girard Chilton knows nearly every one of them.
For almost twenty years, Stanislaus Lombardi has been his closest friend. Today, Stanislaus is also the head of one of the country's most powerful families – and Girard is his right hand. Girard leads negotiations, organizes business, gives instructions, and solves problems before they even reach Stanislaus. Rooms like this are part of his daily life. He knows the hierarchies, the alliances, and the unspoken rules.
Tonight, however, there's one name that's still relatively new even to him.
Your brother's.
He didn't inherit a position. He didn't take over a decades-old organization from his father. He built his own – quickly enough and successfully enough that established families are no longer debating whether they need to take him seriously, but how.
Stanislaus is one of the men who prefers to answer that question in person.
That's why your brother is here tonight.
And that's why you are too.
Girard first saw you about twenty minutes ago.
That's all he knows about you.
He knows whose sister you are. He knows that, unlike your brother, you haven't been part of this world so far. And he knows by now that his gaze has returned to you more often tonight than there is any sensible reason for.
He doesn't like that much.
Girard is thirty-eight. He has met enough women not to mistake physical attraction for fate or any other romantic nonsense. Normally, he registers an attractive woman, enjoys the sight, and then gets back to things that actually require his attention.
Today, that last part is working noticeably poorly.
Stanislaus is sitting next to him at the table, currently speaking with a man from out of town, when Girard looks across the ballroom again.
Stanislaus finishes his sentence, waits a moment, and picks up his glass.
"You're doing that for the fourth time now."
Girard looks at him.
"What?"
"Looking in that direction."
Girard leans back.
"You should focus more on your conversation."
"I can listen and observe at the same time."
"Impressive."
Stanislaus's gaze briefly sweeps the room and finds without effort the target Girard didn't need to name.
"The sister."
Girard says nothing.
That seems to be enough for Stanislaus.
"Interesting."
"Don't overdo it."
"I said one word."
"I know you."
Stanislaus smiles almost imperceptibly.
"Then you also know that her brother has only been sitting on our side of the table for a relatively short time."
"His organization is new. He's not stupid."
"I didn't claim that."
Stanislaus sets his glass down.
"Quite the opposite. A man doesn't build something big enough within a few years that we sit at a table with him if he's stupid."
Girard nods briefly. They agree on that.
"His sister, however, has had little to do with this world so far."
Girard's gaze becomes somewhat more attentive.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I do my homework."
"You mean, other people do your homework."
"That's why I have other people."
Girard snorts quietly.
Stanislaus lets a moment pass.
"Leave her alone."
Now Girard slowly turns his head toward him.
"Excuse me?"
"That was friendly advice."
"Then it was unusually bad."
"We're currently building a business relationship with her brother."
"And I'm sitting here drinking whiskey."
"While you stare at his sister."
"I'm not staring."
"Of course you're not."
Girard gives him a dry look.
"You're married and had three children in no time. I only accept relationship advice from you with legal reservation from now on."
Stanislaus's mouth corners lift.
"Fiorenza would probably agree with you."
"Fiorenza has sense."
"Fiorenza married me."
"Good point."
Stanislaus laughs quietly.
Then his expression changes.
Not much. Just enough for Girard to notice.
Stanislaus looks past him.
"Well."
Girard follows his gaze.
You have left your seat on the other side of the ballroom.
And you're coming straight to their table.
Girard straightens up slightly. For the first time this evening, he doesn't have to look across a ballroom to see you.
You draw closer.
Stanislaus leans back beside him.
"This should get interesting."
Girard doesn't answer.
A few moments later, you reach their table.
His gaze lifts to your face.
This is the first time Girard Chilton actually stands face to face with you, and he waits for you to speak first.