Chapter 5 - Silk and Shadows
The next morning arrived with a gray, icy drizzle that blurred the wide windows of the guest suite. Penny woke up in a bed larger than her entire bedroom at home, surrounded by Egyptian cotton sheets and plush velvet pillows. For a brief, confusing second, she thought the entire night had been a wild, alcohol-induced fever dream.
Then she saw the two massive, armed security guards standing outside her open doorway in the hallway, and reality crashed down like a lead weight.
By 10:00 AM, Mrs. Gable ushered a flock of sleek, elegant women into the suite, led by a sharp-featured woman named Madame Helene. They carried massive garment bags, velvet jewelry boxes, and cases of high-end cosmetics.
“Mr. Conti was very specific,” Madame Helene said in a clipped French accent, measuring Penny’s waist with a silver tape measure. “Midnight blue. Italian silk. Minimal jewelry, but stunning lines. He said you have... strong shoulders and an stubborn jaw. We must complement both.”
“He said I have a stubborn jaw?” Penny muttered, gritting her teeth as the women pinned the fabric around her frame. “Charming.”
For three hours, Penny was prodded, measured, brushed, and styled. They draped her in a heavy, flowing floor-length silk gown of deep cobalt blue—a dress that hugged every curve of her waist before falling in smooth, liquid folds to the floor. The back was deeply dipped, revealing the creamy expanse of her spine, while the front was cut in a sophisticated, elegant high collar.
When they finished, Penny stepped in front of the full-length gilded mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. The tired, pale waitress with greasy hair and dark under-eye circles was gone. In her place stood a striking, radiant woman with dark, artfully styled waves falling over her shoulders, her hazel eyes brightened by subtle gold eyeshadow, her pale skin glowing.
The door opened softly behind her.
Matteo stepped into the room. He was wearing a dark charcoal tuxedo, tailored so perfectly it emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow hips. He paused in the doorway, his amber eyes sliding over her from head to toe.
The air in the room instantly grew heavy, charged with a sudden, crackling tension.
Madame Helene and her assistants quietly packed their tools and slipped out of the room, leaving the two of them alone in the quiet suite.
“You look...” Matteo started, his low voice echoing against the tall ceilings. He stopped, searching for the word, a rare hesitation from a man who commanded hundreds. “You look extraordinary, Penny.”
Penny looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling far more exposed in the stunning silk gown than she had in her shabby waitress uniform. “I feel like an imposter. Like I’m playing dress-up in someone else’s nightmare.”
Matteo walked slowly toward her, his heavy leather shoes silent on the thick Persian rug. He stopped just behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror. He reached up, his fingers brushing warm against her shoulder as he adjusted the delicate thin strap of the dress. His touch was surprisingly gentle for a man whose hands bore the rough scars of violent encounters.
Penny’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered wildly—not from fear, but from a strange, electricity surging through her veins at his proximity.
“You are no imposter,” Matteo said softly into her ear, his deep voice sending shivers down her neck. “Tonight, you are the most dangerous woman in New England. You are sitting at my right hand.”
“I’m terrified, Matteo,” she whispered, using his first name naturally for the first time. She looked up into his amber eyes through the glass. “What if something goes wrong? What if Vance tries to finish what he started?”
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Matteo met her gaze in the mirror, his expression turning into absolute granite—unyielding, dark, and lethal.
“Then I burn this city to the ground before I let anyone lay a single finger on you,” he said softly. “Now, take my arm, Miss Higgins. Our carriage awaits.”
