Chapter 5 - THE ENEMY WITHIN
The rest of the morning passed in a surreal blur of high-stakes tension. Damon’s security detail escorted me to a heavily reinforced guest suite in the East Wing—far away from the staff quarters where my real life used to exist. A terrified young maid brought me a selection of designer clothing pulled hastily from boutiques in downtown Boston, whispering apologies as if she expected me to have her executed at any moment.
I dressed in a structured emerald-green dress that fit my frame perfectly, though I felt like an imposter wearing armor meant for a queen.
Around noon, a soft knock rattled the heavy oak door.
I opened it to find Marcus, Damon’s primary head of security—a scarred, towering man who looked like he ate nails for breakfast.
"Miss Cross," Marcus nodded respectfully, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "The Boss sent me to brief you. We’ve intercepted encrypted radio chatter from Rossi’s faction. They don’t believe the engagement is real."
"I don't believe it's real either," I muttered, crossing my arms.
Marcus ignored my comment, laying a thick manila folder on the glass coffee table. "Rossi is planning to test you. He knows you have no background in high society, let alone syndicate politics. Tomorrow night, the annual Mayor’s Charity Ball is being held at the Museum of Fine Arts. Every major player in Boston—politicians, CEOs, and mafia capos—will be in attendance."
I stared at the folder. "And let me guess. Damon expects me to walk into a room full of murderers wearing an expensive dress and pretend I belong there?"
"The Boss expects you to stand by his side and show zero fear," Marcus corrected grimly. "Because if you show a single crack of weakness, Rossi will exploit it to humiliate Damon in front of the entire city. And in our world, humiliation is a death sentence."
"Why is he doing this?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly as the frustration and fear finally boiled over. "Why not just put me in a car, send me home, and tell everyone I was a one-night mistake? Why risk his entire empire on an event coordinator he met yesterday?"
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Marcus looked at me for a long, silent moment, his stern expression softening just a fraction.
"Because, Miss Cross," Marcus said quietly. "The Boss hasn't looked at a woman the way he looked at you this morning in ten years. You weren't a mistake to him. You were a lifeline he didn't know he was looking for."
