Page 7 of Hook

Without saying a word, I pass him mine and he waves me through. It’s too fucking easy to get inside this wretched party.

Tonight, it’s all about the prize. Gwendolyne Tesoro, the wife-to-be of my nemesis Piero.

A woman who her father, Jovani Tesoro, has kept well hidden over the years. Rumor has it she’s a true treasure, as her name suggests. And the thing about me is I can’t keep my hands off of treasure, especially treasure belonging to Piero.

The ballroom itself is awash with decadence; chandeliers drip from the ceiling like diamonds, casting an ethereal glow over everything below. The string quartet plays music in the corner, only adding to the ambiance.

The attendees are nothing short of perfection. Each one decked out in their finest tuxedo or gown, sipping champagne while chatting away like old friends.

The place wreaks of Piero and his over inflated ego. The crème de la crème of society has come out tonight; from influential families to powerful business magnates, all gathering at Piero’s high class party. It makes me want to puke.

As I scan the room for my target, I can’t help but feel excited and on edge. Seeing Gwendolyne is worth the risk. She will be mine before Piero can utter his wedding vows.

I linger at the sidelines of the glittering ballroom, my gaze skimming past the guests in search of the man of the hour. It’s dangerous to be here. If Piero discovered my presence, there would be no escape.

That’s all forgotten when my gaze falls upon a tall figure with golden brown hair across the room. Resentment bubbles in my veins as I spot him, the man who took everything from me. He has a young woman on his arm and she has brown, sun-kissed hair that shimmers in the light, stretching to her waist in luscious curls.

This must be Gwendolyne Tesoro. From behind, she’s utterly breathtaking. Her form is curvaceous in the most delightful way, her long legs visible beneath her knee length evening gown. She has an ethereal beauty, with a grace and poise that’s out of this world. Even before I’ve seen her face, it doesn’t take much effort to imagine spanking her pert ass while I fuck her senseless.

Turn around.

She’s facing away from me. Disgustingly, Piero lowers his hand to caress her ass and she shudders.

My attention is brought back to reality when a server stops by my side to offer me champagne on a silver tray. “Hello, would you like a drink?” She bats her eyelashes at me flirtatiously.

I force my lips into a hint of a smile. “Sure, thanks,” I say, suppressing the urge to flirt back. I have a job to do, and I can’t jeopardize it for a fleeting moment with a pretty girl.

Taking the flute, I step away from her and toward Piero.

My eyes narrow in hate and contempt at the sight of him. My arch-nemesis. Yet, even as I try to focus on him, my gaze moves back to the woman by his side — a pretty thing whose delicate shoulders are exposed by the low back of her dress, that falls gracefully to her knees.

My fists clench and my pulse races as Piero leans toward her, whispering something in her ear. She turns her face to the side and I see the responding blush creep to the tip of her ears.

A raging storm brews within me. He doesn’t deserve her perfection.

Mesmerized, I watch as she turns my way, revealing her beauty in full. Hair like soft brown velvet cascades across her heart-shaped face and spills to the waistline of her dress; rosy lips curve into an alluring smile that reveals white teeth; emerald eyes pierce through my soul.

An obsession solidifys within me. Gwendolyne Tesoro will be mine.

Piero makes her laugh, and it makes me sick. He’s so sure of himself—of his power and his wealth, so certain that no one would dare stand against him.

But he is wrong. He doesn’t see me standing here watching them. Observing as they greet their guests with smug self-assurance. It only makes my mission more urgent. To take Gwendolyne away from him, to make him pay for all he has cost me.

The temptation to approach her, to make my presence known, is too risky right now. Piero would recognize me if we come face to face, and I know my time here won’t end well if that happens.

“Excuse me,” someone says, clearing their throat behind me.

I turn around to find myself facing one of Piero’s men—his loyal man since before Piero ruined my life.

“Yeah?” I ask, trying to maintain my cool.

The man narrows his eyes, squinting as though trying to place me. “Do I know you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t recognize you, no.”

His lips purse together and he holds out a hand. “Dario,” he says. “And you are?”

“Henry,” I say, thinking of a name off the top of my head.

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