Page 336 of Rosetti Family New York
“Which means Chase has been planning this longer than we thought,” Emilio says quietly, dipping me with a flourish that hides his scan for threats. “This gathering isn’t just a party. It’s a trap. They wanted me to come with you.”
The realization hits like cold water. Chase’s perfect timing, the extra guards, Connor’s specialist backup, all meant to expose and eliminate any threats to Callahan power. Me included.
“We should leave,” I whisper, my lips brushing his ear as he pulls me closer. “Abort the mission. Let’s get out now.”
“No.” His voice is flat with certainty. His hand slides from my waist to the small of my back, pressing me against him. “We finish this tonight.”
“Emilio—”
“I said no.” He tightens his grip on my silk dress and lifts my chin so I have no choice but to meet his storm-gray eyes. The hunger there makes my throat clench. "You kill Chase Callahan and earn your place in my family, or we both die trying. Those are the only acceptable options."
The finality in his voice sends dark pleasure curling through my chest rather than terror. He'd rather face death together than retreat separately. My body responds to his dominance, core clenching as his thumb traces my lower lip.
"Promise me something," I breathe, desperate. "If this goes wrong—"
"It won't." He silences me with a kiss that's pure possession, his mouth claiming mine with hunger that our years of separation has only intensified. His tongue sweeps past my lips, and I melt against him completely, forgetting where we are, forgetting the danger, forgetting everything but the taste of him.
When we break apart, both gasping, his eyes are dark with promise. "But if it does," he says, "you stay behind me. You let me handle the violence. You trust that I'll get you out alive."
The music swells around us, violin strings weaving a romantic tune over strategic positioning and whispered death threats. Other couples glide by: arms dealers waltzing with money launderers, traffickers spinning drug lords, all maintaining a polite facade while they ruin lives.
Chase Callahan arrives like a shark cutting through bloody water. Silver hair, perfect suit, controlled menace. His guards are everywhere. He knows something. I watch him scan faces with cold precision, marking threats with the paranoia that’s kept him alive while everyone else wants him dead.
"This is a setup," I whisper. "He's been planning all of this."
"Maybe. But so have we."
The waltz ends. Couples part ways, but I stay still in Emilio's arms, realizing the trap we've stepped into. We came to assassinate Chase, but they let us in to die.
The orchestra starts a new piece. Conversations hush as Chase stands with dramatic flair. Everyone watches the man who promised them Rosetti pieces, while I get ready to make sure he never fulfills that promise.
This is my moment. My chance to prove I deserve the Rosetti name and find safety in Emilio's dangerous world. For Sarah. For the justice lost over eight months of deception.
I touch the crystal vial, its glass warm against my fingers. The neurotoxin is a perfect formula of death. Twelve minutes from drinking to heart failure.
The champagne fountain stands in the room's center, lavish and eye-catching. Crystal layers overflow with golden bubbles. Many flutes are on nearby tables, but only one matters, the one on the small table at the front, the one Chase will grab for his toast.
I move through the crowd without being noticed, slipping between conversations as Chase prepares. The vial leaves my clutch, small enough to hide in my hand as I approach the table.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Chase's voice echoes in the marble hall. "Tonight we mark the end of an era and the start of something much more profitable..."
I'm close now. Close enough to see his champagne flute within easy reach. Close enough to finish the mission and secure my safety.
My fingers find the vial's stopper. The perfected death, ready to mix with champagne.
I notice movement at the edge of my vision. Connor moving through the crowd with intent, hand inside his jacket. Three more figures surrounding Emilio. Not random movements. A planned attack.
The plan becomes painfully clear. Chase is aware of my presence. This toast is a show meant to expose me while Connor takes out the main threat—the Ghost, whose brilliance protects the Rosettis. Time slows down with sharp focus. I can finish the mission by pouring the contents into Chase's glass. I can prove my worth to Emilio through blood and violence. Or I can protect the man I love from being shot by an assassin.
The decision strikes me hard, like a bolt of lightning. Duty versus love. My survival instincts clash, each giving different commands, while my heart delivers one clear message:
Emilio. Protect Emilio. Choose Emilio.
I drop the vial.
Crystal shatters against marble. Neurotoxin spreads across stone
Every sacrifice I was willing to make for family acceptance is destroyed. The sound is lost in applause. I abandon the mission and push through the crowd toward the man whose life is more important than approval, proving worth, or anything else. Chase's champagne sits untouched as I fight through evening wear and fake smiles, desperate to reach Emilio before Connor's plan unfolds.
