Page 93 of The Don's Deadly Assassin

He helps me glide across the floor, almost in a dream-like state. Vincenzo, tall and debonair, holds me close with a gentle strength. “You look radiant,” he whispers in my ear, before pulling away to adjust his steps and leading me in a subtle shift in the music, bringing our foxtrot to a feather step, creating a light, airy effect as we move across the floor.

He then does a triple-turn and spins me around. The colors of our outfits blur together in a mesmerizing dance across the polished floor, and the crowd begins to part around us. A circle forms as onlookers step back in awe of our performance. Gasps and whispers follow us as we execute intricate steps like we born to dance.

Just then, he dips me over and whispers, “See anything?”

“Spin me again,” I say. He does as I ask.

As he spins me across the dance floor, creating a wider circle around us, I catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. A shadow flits through the crowd, always at the edge of my peripheral vision, vanishing whenever I try to focus on it.

"Vincenzo," I whisper urgently, "I think we're being followed."

"Are you certain?" he asks, his voice low and steady despite the concern flickering in his eyes.

"Almost," I reply, biting my lip as I scan the room once more, searching for any sign of the elusive figure. "There's something...someone lurking around."

“Alright,” he tells me. He then flashes me a quick wink before executing an elaborate spin that sends me careening away from him and into the crowd.

My eyes have a better vantage point from here. I spin, focusing on the room.

There! A flicker of movement from the corner of my eye - a figure dressed all in black, lurking near one of the ballroom's towering marble columns, watching the floor with intense focus.

I can't see his face behind the mask, but I glimpse the hilt of a dagger peeking from their sleeve, glinting when it catches the light. He’s gone by the time I finish my next twirl.

Got you.

Vincenzo trots over, grabs me from my spin, and pulls me back into his arms. My lips are parted, and my pulse races as he takes one hand in his and extends it out for the final step.

Vincenzo leans close, his breath warm against my ear. "You've spotted our quarry, haven't you?"

“I think I did. He’s been watching us.”

"As expected." His eyes gleam behind his mask, bright with purpose. "Shall we put our plan into motion?"

The plan. Separate and draw the assassin out, then spring the trap. I swallow hard, steeling my nerves.

I nod, and Vincenzo presses a swift kiss on my cheek. “Let’s get off the floor,” he tells me. We stop as the song ends and take a bow. Slowly, we walk off the stage, eyes looking in the direction of people cheering us from both ends but focusing on the peripheries of the room.

“So, what did he look like?” Vincenzo asks.

“Let’s go to the bar,” I tell him. We stand there, side by side, watching the crowd. “He’s tall,” I tell Vincenzo. “Wearing all black, including the shirt, socks, suit and mask.”

Vincenzo nods, turning away from the crowd to face me. “Plant the lever and disappear,” he whispers. “And I’ll draw him to the cocktail table you pick.”

I nod and walk through the room, occasionally turning to see if Vincenzo is alright. Often, I find a shadow over the floor next to me, but when I try to find the party responsible, I see none.

This assassin has a way of hiding, masking away in the crowd.

I walk in the direction of the stairway leading up, careful to find a table that’s not near a crowd. I scan carefully, high cocktail-standing tables all around and find two very close to each other, just near the staircase, away from where people can see and be seen.

The assassin would want a quiet, unassuming place away from the thick of things. I gently lean over at one, slowly pushing it forward, closer to the other, making the section between them small.

I turn to see if Vincenzo watches, and he gives me a small nod. Then, I hold my purse beneath the tablecloth and pull out the magnetic trigger point, its detonator still in my purse. I put a heavy coin on the table and place a coaster over it, sticking the magnet right beneath the table, below the coin, to keep it in place.

One jerk, and whatever the detonator is attached to will burn away within a microsecond, burning the small detonator wire with it.

Then, I scan the room, noticing no shadow, and quietly rush up the stairs to the gallery overhead. I bend low and walk across the length of the railing, just until I reach where a massive, glittering chandelier hangs like a promise.

Right above the tables, I adjusted. I carefully lean over the edge and assess the chandelier's support system. It's held up by a series of cables and pulleys, and I know that loosening just one of them will send the entire thing crashing down.

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