Chapter 6 - The Museum Gala
The Museum of Contemporary Art glittered under avant-garde neon installations and spotlights, filled with Chicago’s wealthy elite, international art dealers, and shady financiers.
I stepped out of Luca’s private town car wearing a stunning midnight-blue backless silk gown that hugged my frame—a far cry from my old black housekeeping uniform. Luca offered his arm, and I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow, feeling the solid, reassuring strength of his muscles beneath his tailored tuxedo.
"Remember," Luca whispered near my ear as we walked up the marble steps, "stay close to me, keep your eyes open, and don't let Julian intimidate you for a single second."
"I survived working under Vanessa Bellini and cleaning up after Chicago billionaires," I murmured back with a confident smile. "Julian Vance is going to feel like a walk in the park."
As we entered the grand exhibition hall, the murmurs of the crowd instantly died down. All heads turned toward us. The appearance of Luca Moretti—especially accompanied by the mysterious new coordinator everyone had been gossiping about—sent a clear, unmistakable signal through the room.
Julian Vance rushed over from the center stage, wearing an expensive velvet blazer and a nervous, forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Luca! Emma! What a wonderful surprise," Julian greeted us, though his voice was slightly strained. "I didn't realize my little foundation gala warranted the attention of the head office."
"Julian, your philanthropic efforts are legendary," Luca replied smoothly, his tone dripping with quiet irony. "I simply couldn't miss the opportunity to see firsthand where all our acquisition funds are going."
Julian’s smile twitched. "Right. Well, enjoy the champagne. The silent auction for our international logistics grants starts in twenty minutes in the east gallery."
"We wouldn't miss it," I added, offering a sweet, saccharine smile.
As Julian hurried away to greet other guests, Luca led me toward a secluded balcony overlooking the sculpture garden. "He’s nervous. The auction in the east gallery isn't for charity, Emma. That’s where his buyers are paying cash for the diverted container goods."
"Marcus and his team are already stationed around the perimeter?" I asked.
"Every exit is locked down," Luca confirmed, checking his watch. "In fifteen minutes, we walk into the east gallery, shut down the auction, and freeze his accounts permanently."
Before we could make our move, a sharp, familiar voice interrupted us from the shadows of the doorway.
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"Well, well, well. Look who managed to climb out of the laundry room."
I froze. I turned around to see Vanessa Bellini standing there. She looked bruised, desperate, and unhinged, wearing a cheap rented dress instead of designer silk, her eyes blazing with pure, unadulterated hatred as she stared right at me.
