Milan glowed beneath the night sky, each light reflected on the smooth surface of the Navigli canals. It was a city of excess and darkness, and tonight Adriana walked in both worlds.
She toyed with the diamond drop earring Damian had forced into her hand an hour earlier. "Part of the cover," he'd said with a sly smile, fastening it himself as his fingers grazed a moment too long against her skin. She couldn't be sure if the ornamentation was more for disguise or his own enjoyment in seeing her dazzle. Either way, she'd never felt more like a piece on his playing board or more alive.
The gala was being held in Palazzo Ravelli, one of the Moranos' allies' marble masterpieces. Golden chandeliers blazed across tuxedos and silks, and the music of a quartet curled through the air. She breathed deeply. This is it. The stage. The trap.
Their target Lorenzo Vescari, mid-level executive at the Morano bank was a creature of habit. He came here every Thursday to drink champagne, try to pick up women too young for him, and wave his access badge around like a family heirloom. Tonight, he carried something far more valuable with him: his biometric ID and the keycard that provided entry to one of the Moranos' vault servers.
Damian's voice cut softly into her earpiece. "Vescari. Nine o'clock, close to the bar. Pale suit, navy tie. And already drunk. Soft target."
Adriana moved her head imperceptibly, finding the man. He had a receding hairline combed back with too much gel, a laugh too loud, and a hand already wandering into the waist of a woman who was clearly pretending to enjoy his attention.
Her stomach tightened. "You want me to distract him?
I need his keycard. And his fingerprint. Nothing makes a man careless sooner than a beautiful woman getting in too close." Damian's silence was electric with heat. "And you are more than beautiful, Adriana. You're lethal."
She laughed, but heat crept up her neck anyway. "Flattery noted. I'll get his attention. But I'm no thief."
"No," Damian whispered, his voice velvet and dark. "That's my role. Just…distract him."
Adriana walked towards the bar, every step calculated, the heels Damian had made her wear clicking like whispers over marble. Vescari spotted her before she'd even spoken, his beady eyes widening as though he'd been starving and a banquet had been laid out.
"Well, buona sera," he said, already rising. "I haven't had the pleasure."
Adriana smiled, slow and practiced. "Not yet. But maybe tonight's young."
He was obsequious in seconds, topping up her champagne, discussing his work at the bank, dropping hints about his power. She leaned close enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume, threw her head back, and laughed low. She loathed every minute, but she wore the mask impeccably.
Meanwhile, Damian moved like a shadow at the edge of the crowd. One bump against Vescari's shoulder as he "passed through" was all it took to lift the keycard. Later, when Vescari set his glass down to reach for Adriana's hand, Damian's gloved fingers swept the rim away. A clean fingerprint, lifted with silent efficiency.
"Done," Damian's voice came through her earpiece. "Thirty seconds more, then get out. I don't like his proximity."
Adriana chuckled, slipping out of Vescari's reach. "Scusa. A lady doesn't linger too long in one place. Buona sera, Signore."
She wove back into the crowd, her skin tingling where his hand had touched her arm. Damian lurked in the shadows, lips curved in something dangerous. "You did well."
Her eyes narrowed. "You enjoyed that too much."
"I enjoyed seeing you get the better of him. That's not the same thing." His eyes warmed for a brief moment, then he held up the stolen keycard. "Now our real evening begins."
Morano Bank's Milanese server vault was hidden beneath an nondescript office building, guarded by layers of security. The building slept at midnight at least to the naked eye.
Damian, Adriana, and Julian came in through the side door. Julian's nimble fingers turned off the alarm panel in seconds, and Damian passed the card through the reader. The green light blinked, doors slid open, and they stepped into silence so thick it pressed against their eardrums.
Adriana's heart raced. She'd done board meetings, signed deals worth millions, survived press scandals but nothing had prepared her for midnight breaking and entering into a high-security vault. Her heels were replaced by soft boots, but each step rang out too loudly in her head.
"Breathe," Damian whispered from behind her, his voice calming her. "You're as much entitled to be here as I am.
She swallowed and nodded, letting him take the lead. He moved with predator grace, eyes scanning every corner, every camera, every shadow. When they reached the elevator to the basement, Julian bumped his laptop against the access panel. There were several tense seconds before the doors slid open.
The descent felt like it took an eternity. Adriana could almost hear her father's voice in her mind: We build legacies, not scandals. Remember that, Adriana.
She clenched her fists. This isn't scandal, Father. This is survival.
The Data Room
The server vault stretched out before them, rows of whirring equipment glowing with soft blue light. It was more like a cathedral than a bank, chilly and sprawling, the heartbeat of Morano corruption on silicon drives.
Julian darted forward, falling into the terminal chair. "Give me five minutes. Keep watch."
Adriana stood beside Damian as he scanned the perimeter. She whispered, "It feels…wrong. Violating. Like trespassing on something poisonous."
Damian's lips tilted. "That's because it is poisonous. But we're not here to admire it. We're here to rip out the fangs."
Julian's fingers flew across the keyboard. "Got it encrypted ledgers, offshore transfers, coded names. This is the spine of their empire."
Adriana leaned in. "Take it all."
"Already doing it." He smirked. "Though I'll need another three minutes. Encryption's fighting me."
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor. Adriana's breath caught. Guards. Damian motioned her behind a row of servers, then disappeared into the shadows.
One guard appeared, flashlight cutting through the gloom. His brows furrowed at the faint glow of Julian's screen. He stepped closer, hand reaching for his radio.
Before the man had a chance to speak, Damian attacked swift, silent, a blade at the man's neck as he dragged him into the darkness. A muffled groan, then nothing. The guard went slack under Damian's feet. He rounded on Adriana, eyes glinting. "Handled."
Her heart tightened. She should be horrified. Instead, she felt safer than she would admit. What does that say about me?
Julian exhaled. "Download complete. But wait." His brow furrowed as lines of code blurred past faster than his eyes could follow. "Something's wrong."
Adriana leaned in. "What is it?"
"Someone else has been in this system," Julian muttered. "Recently. The same exact files we weren't the first to open them. And whoever it was left signs like they wanted us to notice."
Damian's face clouded. "The Moranos?"
Julian shook his head. "No. This wasn't sloppy. This was deliberate. They're hunting the Moranos too. Or hunting us."
The server lights flickered once, as if in warning. Adriana felt the hairs on her neck rise.
"Then we're not the only hunters in Milan," Damian said darkly. "And the city just became a battlefield."