Zadie’s POV
Of all the places I expected to find a criminal mastermind, a masquerade ball wasn’t one of them.
The tracker led me to a wrought-iron gate draped in vines and guarded like a presidential event. Spotlights lit the path up to the grand double doors of an old mansion tucked behind layers of privilege and red velvet. Music drifted through the walls, classical, expensive. This wasn’t a back-alley deal. This was high society. Dangerous society.
And I was dressed like a damn office worker. Cue the cavalry. A silver sports car rolled up like a runway fantasy, and out stepped my best friend, Marlowe Hartly, in full diva glory, tailored navy suit, satin lapels, and a mask that sparkled with tiny stars.
“Darling, you didn’t think I’d let you waltz into a masquerade looking like you came from a Zoom meeting, did you?” he said, holding up a sleek garment bag.
I blinked. “Where the hell did you even get-?”
“Connections,” he said with a wink. “Now shut up and change. We’ve got a criminal to charm and a mystery to solve.”
In the backseat of his car, he zipped me into a dark emerald gown that hugged in all the right places, handed me a lace mask, and stepped back to admire his work. Now, I look like a seductress with these juicy mounds.
“Damn. If you weren’t into men, I’d marry you,” he said, fanning himself. “We’re not crashing this party. We’re owning it.” Inside, it was a dream disguised as danger.
The ballroom gleamed under chandeliers that looked like frozen fire. Hundreds of masked guests mingled, sipping champagne and speaking in whispers. Velvet curtains framed every entrance, and violins sang in the corners of the room.
But I only saw him. Lazaro. He wore a black velvet mask that only heightened the sharpness of his jaw, his tailored suit fitting like second skin. Every movement of his was in control. And then I saw her. Kendall. Her arm curled around his like it belonged there. She was wearing red again, his favorite color, apparently. The sight punched something deep in my stomach.
Not jealousy. Definitely not. Just irritation. Professional irritation. Right? His gaze found me across the ballroom like a magnet. I didn’t flinch. I held it. But he didn’t come over. Instead, he turned, and led Kendall into a slow, graceful dance.
She then leaned her head against his shoulder. I swallowed hard, heat creeping up my neck. My fists clenched at my sides. I was undercover. On a mission. So why the hell did it feel like my chest was splitting open?
“Focus, Hollis,” I whispered.
I faded into the crowd, eyes never leaving him. My mind raced with questions. Why bring Kendall here? What’s the purpose of this party? And why the hell did Lazaro Saventino act like he hadn’t kissed me breathless two nights ago?
Then came the disruption. Near the buffet table, a crash. A waiter flinched as a man in a gold mask grabbed him by the collar, hissing curses through clenched teeth.
“Stupid kid! You ruined my suit!” the man snapped, shaking him. The waiter was shaking too, no older than nineteen. I moved toward them, instinct kicking in. But Lazaro beat me there.
“Take your hand off him,” Lazaro said, his voice calm. but ice-cold.
The man turned, annoyed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“He’s a damn waiter.”
“He’s a person,” Lazaro said. “Apologize… or leave.” Silence fell.
The man blinked, then scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more,” he said, more pissed than ever.
Tension wrapped around the room. Everyone watched, waiting for the explosion. But the man let go, muttered something, and walked away. Lazaro straightened the waiter’s collar and gave him a nod before returning to his table like nothing happened. And I? I stood frozen. Because nothing about that felt like an act.
That wasn’t the Lazaro I was told to take down. That wasn’t a man driven by power or ego. That was someone with… rules. A man who drew lines, even in a world that didn’t. I backed into the crowd, heart thudding. Who are you, Lazaro Saventino? And what the hell are you really hiding behind that mask?