The Gala

The tension between Rory and Max had hit a boiling point by the time the invitation arrived. A gilded envelope embossed with gold writing sat on the dining table, its appearance commanding attention. Rory eyed it warily, her feelings telling her that whatever this event was, it wouldn’t end well.

Max entered the room, his face as unreadable as ever. He picked up the envelope and gave it to her without a word. Rory took it, breaking the seal and scanning the note.

“‘An evening of elegance,’” she read aloud, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “‘Hosted by none other than Valentin Rossini.’ You can’t be serious.”

Max’s jaw tightened. “It’s not optional.”

Her fingers clenched around the invitation. “You expect me to play nice at a party thrown by the man who’s been pulling my family’s strings? Who’s been threatening you?”

“Rory,” Max said, his voice low and firm, “this isn’t a negotiation. You’ll be there. And you’ll smile.”

Her green eyes blazed with defiance. “I don’t take orders from you.”

His lips curved into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Then consider this a warning. If you don’t show up, Rossini will notice. And trust me, that’s a problem neither of us needs.”

Rory’s chest tightened, her anger bubbling over. But as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. If Rossini suspects anything, it could put them both in danger.

“Fine,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “But don’t expect me to hold your hand.”

Max’s smile deepened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The night of the gala came, and Rory found herself standing in front of a fulllength mirror in a gown that felt more like armor than clothing. The sleek black fabric clung to her curves, the high slit and plunging neckline a sharp contrast to the polished beauty of the event. She fixed her earrings, steeling herself for what was to come.

A knock at the door broke her thoughts. Max stepped inside, his fitted suit fitting him like a second skin. His piercing blue eyes swept over her, pausing for just a moment longer than necessary.

“You clean up well,” he said, his voice absent of its usual edge.

Rory raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get used to it.”

He offered his arm, his face neutral. “Shall we?”

Reluctantly, she took it. As they descended the grand stairs, Rory couldn’t help but feel like she was walking into a battlefield, and Max was both her ally and her enemy.

The gala was a show of wealth and power, the room glittering with chandeliers and the soft hum of classical music filling the air. Guests mingled in clusters, their laughter and talk masking the undercurrent of tension that seemed to pulse through the crowd.

Rory’s grip on Max’s arm tightened as they entered, her eyes searching the room for any sign of Rossini. Max leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. “Relax. You’re drawing attention.”

“Good,” she muttered. “Let them watch.”

Max’s lips twitched, but he said nothing. Instead, he led her toward a group of influentiallooking guests. Rory plastered on a polite smile, nodding at introductions and trading pleasantries, all the while hyperaware of Max’s presence beside her.

But her composure slipped when she spotted him.

Valentin Rossini stood near the bar, a glass of champagne in hand. His tailored suit and charming smile made him look every bit the charismatic businessman, but Rory saw the predator hiding beneath the polished exterior. His dark eyes swept the room, landing on her and Max with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

“Showtime,” Max murmured, his face hardening.

Rossini approached, his smile widening as he offered a hand. “Maximilian. Always a pleasure.”

Max shook his hand, his moves controlled. “Valentin.”

Rossini’s gaze moved to Rory, his smile never wavering. “And you must be the lovely Aurélien Dumont. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Rory forced a smile, ignoring the way her stomach churned. “I’m sure you have.”

Rossini chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I can see why Max is so taken with you. You’re quite the firecracker.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she responded coolly.

Rossini’s laughter deepened. “I like her, Max. She’s got spirit.”

Max’s hand on her back was firm, a silent warning to hold her mouth. Rory gritted her teeth, her instincts screaming at her to walk away, but she stayed put, determined not to give Rossini the pleasure.

As the evening wore on, Rory felt the weight of Rossini’s gaze on her, even when he wasn’t near. She mingled with the guests, trying to enjoy the event while keeping an eye on Max and Rossini’s interactions. Their whispered conversations and tense body language spoke loudly.

At one point, Max excused himself to speak with someone across the room, leaving Rory briefly alone. She took the chance to slip away, finding refuge on a quiet balcony overlooking the city.

The cool night air was a nice relief, and she leaned against the railing, her mind racing. Everything about this night felt wrong, like the calm before a storm. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something important.

“Enjoying the view?”

Rory turned sharply to find Rossini standing behind her, his smile as smooth as ever. She straightened, her guard immediately going up.

“What do you want?” she asked, her tone sharper than she meant.

Rossini laughed, stepping closer. “You’re direct. I like that.”

“Answer the question.”

His smile faded slightly, his eyes sharpening. “I wanted to see for myself what makes you so special. You’ve made quite the stir, you know. Marrying Maximilian, getting into things you shouldn’t. It’s dangerous.”

Rory’s heart quickened, but she refused to let him see her fear. “I can handle myself.”

Rossini tilted his head, his eyes piercing. “Perhaps. But be careful, Aurélien. You’re playing a game you don’t fully understand. And in this world, misinformation is lethal.”

Before she could answer, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone on the balcony, her heart pounding in her chest.

When Rory returned to the ballroom, Max was waiting for her, his face tense. “Where were you?” he asked, his voice low.

“Getting some air,” she answered, brushing past him. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Max grabbed her arm, his grip strong but not painful. “Rossini was looking for you.”

“I know,” she said, pulling free. “We had a lovely chat.”

Max’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. “What did he say?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” Rory said, meeting his eyes headon. “But he did confirm one thing: this isn’t just about me or my family. It’s about you, too.”

Max’s silence was all the proof she needed. Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the glittering hall, the weight of his secrets pressing down on them both.

As the dinner wound down, Rory couldn’t shake the feeling that the night’s events were just the beginning. Rossini’s words lingered in her thoughts, a dark promise of chaos to come. And as she watched Max from across the room, his face unreadable, she knew one thing for certain:

Whatever game they were playing, the stakes had just been raised.