Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

POV: DIMITRI

The Grand Belmont Hotel was a masterpiece of old-world elegance, soaring ceilings, crystal chandeliers that caught the light like frozen fire, marble floors polished to mirror shine.

Dimitri stood at the entrance to the ballroom, Eve’s hand in his, and watched six hundred of the city’s elite mill about in their finest attire.

”Ready?” he asked, squeezing her hand.

Eve looked up at him, stunning in the burgundy gown they’d chosen. The dress caught the light as she moved, the crystal chains across her bare back glittering like starlight.

She was the most beautiful woman in the room.

And she was his.

”Ready,” Eve said, smiling. ”Let’s do this.”

They stepped into the ballroom together.

Heads turned immediately. Conversations paused mid-sentence. Every eye in the room found them.

Dimitri Valentino...the Devil, with his chosen queen.

Making their first truly public appearance as a couple.

”They’re staring,” Eve whispered.

”Let them.” Dimitri’s hand settled possessively on the small of her bare back. ”They’re realizing that the most powerful man in the room chose you. They’re jealous. Envious. Wishing they were me.”

”You’re impossible.”

”You love it.”

”I really do.”

They moved through the crowd, Dimitri’s hand never leaving Eve’s back. He nodded to business associates, greeted allies, introduced Eve to the people who mattered.

And with every introduction, every handshake, every ”This is Eve Thorne, my partner,” Dimitri felt something settle in his chest.

This was right.

This was where they belonged.

Together.

In front of the entire world.

Marco appeared at his elbow, subtle as always. ”Boss. Perimeter is secure. No issues so far.”

”Isabella?”

”Arrived twenty minutes ago. Table 47 as expected. She has one companion....Catarina Milano, the woman we’ve been monitoring. Both are currently at the bar. No approach attempts.”

”Good. Keep eyes on them.”

”Already done.”

Marco melted back into the crowd.

Eve looked up at Dimitri. ”Everything okay?”

”Perfect.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. ”Come on. I promised you champagne.”

***

POV: ISABELLA

Isabella stood at the edge of the ballroom, a glass of untouched champagne in her hand, watching Dimitri and Eve move through the crowd like they owned the room.

Because they did own it.

Every person there wanted something from Dimitri, his attention, his approval, his business, his power.

And he gave it all so easily, Eve always at his side, his hand never leaving her back.

They looked perfect together.

Like something out of a fairy tale.

The Devil and his queen.

And Isabella...

Isabella was the villain in the shadows, plotting their downfall.

”You’re staring,” Catarina said quietly beside her.

”I know.” Isabella forced herself to look away. ”I can’t help it.”

”You could still change your mind. Walk away. Leave the vial in your clutch and just... let it go.”

”I can’t.”

”You mean you won’t.”

Isabella didn’t respond.

Across the room, Dimitri leaned down to whisper something in Eve’s ear. She laughed, bright and genuine, and the sound carried across the ballroom like music.

Isabella’s chest tightened.

That should have been her.

That laugh. That ease. That love.

It should have been Isabella on Dimitri’s arm, wearing his ring, carrying his name.

Not Eve Thorne.

Not some nobody who’d stumbled into his club and caught his eye.

”The cocktail hour is ending soon,” Catarina said. ”If you’re going to do this, you need to decide. Now.”

Isabella reached into her clutch, felt the small vial hidden in the false bottom.

The compound that would change everything.

Or destroy everything.

She pulled it out carefully, palmed it.

”I’m doing it,” she said.

”Then wait for the right moment. Don’t rush. One mistake and you’re dead.”

Isabella nodded, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She watched.

And waited.

***

POV: EVE

Eve had been to elegant events before....galas, fundraisers, awards ceremonies during her marriage to Simon.

But this was different.

This wasn’t her standing beside her husband, playing the role of supportive wife while he networked and climbed.

This was her as Dimitri’s equal. His partner. The woman he introduced with pride rather than obligation.

”You’re doing great,” Dimitri murmured as they moved toward their table. ”Everyone loves you.”

”They love you. I’m just the interesting accessory.”

”You’re not an accessory. You’re the reason I’m here at all.” He pulled out her chair, waited until she was seated before taking his own. ”Before you, I went to these things alone. Hated every minute. Couldn’t wait to leave.”

”And now?”

”Now I get to show you off. Which makes it infinitely more bearable.” He kissed her hand. ”Though I’m already thinking about what I’m going to do to you when we get home.”

”Dimitri,” Eve laughed, blushing. ”We’re in public.”

”I’m aware. Doesn’t change what I’m thinking.”

Their table filled with other guests....wealthy donors, business leaders, a state senator and his wife.

All of them greeted Dimitri with deference and Eve with curiosity.

”So you’re the woman who finally caught the Devil,” the senator’s wife said with a smile. ”That’s quite an accomplishment.”

”I prefer to think we caught each other,” Eve said diplomatically.

”Well said.” The woman raised her champagne glass. ”To love that conquers all.”

Eve glanced at Dimitri, found him watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

”To love,” he echoed, his eyes never leaving hers.

They drank.

***

POV: ISABELLA

Dinner was torture.

Isabella sat at Table 47, picking at her food, watching Dimitri and Eve laugh and touch and exist in their perfect bubble of happiness.

The auction started. Wealthy guests bidding obscene amounts on art, jewelry, vacation packages.

Isabella didn’t bid on anything.

Just watched.

Waited.

And then....

Dimitri stood. Said something to Eve. Headed toward the bar.

This was it.

Isabella’s hands trembled as she pulled out the vial.

She’d transferred the compound into a small perfume atomizer earlier....something that looked innocent, unremarkable.

She caught the eye of a passing waiter....young, eager, the kind who’d do anything for a generous tip.

”Excuse me,” Isabella said, her most charming smile in place. ”I need a favor.”

The waiter stopped. ”Of course, ma’am. How can I help?”