Dante’s words hung between them, heavy and cold as unworked platinum. The copper taste of sudden clarity settled under her tongue. Twenty-four hours. Less, really, if the gala was tomorrow night. Falco, perched on the back of the worn armchair, tilted his head, his dark eyes fixed on her. He seemed to sense the shift in the air, the sudden, sharp edge to their predicament.
“The Lucenti gala,” Lina stated, her voice low, pulling her thoughts together. “That’s where Caterina plans to make her grand entrance with Bianca, parading the stolen designs. It’s her biggest night of the year.”
Dante nodded, running a hand through his hair again. “And the real ‘Faceless’ is attending. He likely wants to see the local talent, the market. Caterina will be there, preening.”
“She’ll also be looking for any leverage,” Lina countered, her mind already racing through possibilities. “She won’t hesitate to use anything she finds.” She pushed off the desk, walking to the window that overlooked the rain-slicked alleyway. “We need to find out where he’s staying. And if Caterina has already reached out to him.”
Dante was already pulling out his phone, his earlier tenderness replaced by an efficient focus that Lina found herself relying on. “Hotel Excelsior is the most likely. Discretion and private docks. I have an ear on the staff, a concierge who owes me a favor.” He made a quick call, speaking in clipped syllables. Within minutes, he leaned forward. “He’s registered under an alias—Marco Vane. Penthouse suite.”
“Marco Vane,” Lina murmured, tracing the edge of her magnifier. “He doesn't waste time hiding.” She watched Dante, waiting for the next piece of the puzzle. He was already typing, sending messages, his brow furrowed in concentration. The clock above the workbench ticked, each second amplifying the pressure.
Then, Dante froze. His gaze sharpened, locking onto the screen of his tablet. “This is… not good.” He turned the screen towards Lina. It showed a grainy thermal image, taken from a security camera feed Dante’s contact had managed to access. A woman wrapped in silver mink—unmistakably Caterina Rinaldi—stepping into the private elevator toward the penthouse floor. The timestamp was less than an hour ago.
“She moved fast,” Lina muttered, the knuckles of her left hand going white. “She must have heard about his early arrival. She’s trying to forge an alliance. Expose me.” Caterina had never missed a scent of fresh prey. But this time, she was stepping blind into a split-stone fault line.
“This changes everything,” Dante said, his voice grave. “The Lucenti gala is off the table for the big play. She’ll have him in her ear, poisoning him against you. We have to move *tonight*.”
Lina didn’t hesitate. A daring, dangerous idea was already forming, sharp and clear in her mind. Her earlier fear, the self-doubt that often plagued her, was now completely gone, replaced by a ruthless clarity. “No,” she said, her voice steady, confident. “It doesn’t change everything. It perfects it. Caterina thinks she’s cornering me. But she’s just herding herself into my trap.”
Dante looked at her, his dark eyes searching hers. “What trap, Lina? We can’t reveal your hand prematurely. You need time to build your own name, your own power base.”
Lina walked back to the workbench, her fingers tracing the rough facets of a raw diamond. “The Star of Bressia,” she said, setting a brass weight against the velvet tray. “Caterina demanded an in-person sit-down for its sale, didn’t she? She wants to stare down the shadow buyer, push the price up, and smell any hesitation.” A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. “Tonight, she will. But not in the way she expects.”
Dante watched her, a mixture of concern and admiration in his eyes. “You’re not suggesting… you’re walking into that room as the buyer yourself?”
“Precisely,” Lina affirmed, meeting his gaze directly. “But not just Caterina. We leverage her greed. The real mining magnate is here. He’s a commodities broker, like you. He’ll be interested in a legendary jewel, especially one tied to the city’s history. He’ll want to see its authenticity, its potential. Caterina will try to sell him on the Rinaldi legacy. We’ll use that. We’ll ensure he is there too.”
Dante’s chin came up, his mouth parting slightly as the angle struck him. “You want to force her hand. Force her to expose her fraud, her theft of your designs, in front of the real magnate. And then scoop up the Star of Bressia yourself, legitimizing your own claim to power.” He paused, then let out a slow breath. “It’s a blind leap, Lina. One stumble, and you lose everything. Not just Caterina—the genuine magnate will drop the hammer on you.”
“I know,” Lina said, her resolve unwavering. “But it’s the only way to turn this disaster into my ultimate triumph. Caterina wants a spectacle. I’ll give her one. Tonight.” She picked up her voice modulator, her expression calm, deadly. “Tell her the buyer has changed his mind. Midnight at the Rinaldi showroom. Bring the diamond.”
Dante didn’t argue. He knew that look in her eyes, that fierce, unyielding determination. He made the call, relaying Lina’s instructions. Lina took out her burner phone, bringing up the Rinaldi private line. She took a deep breath, adjusted the modulator, and pressed call. The faint electronic hum of the device was the only sound in the room as she lifted it to her ear.
“Caterina,” she said, her voice a deep, resonant rumble, perfectly imitating the persona she had cultivated, “Tonight at midnight. Have the stone ready.”