Chương 3 - The Corridor of Shadows
In the corridor outside the ballroom, a first aid kit materialized as if summoned by magic. A woman in a crisp hotel staff uniform cleaned and bandaged Evelyn's hand with practiced efficiency, her movements mechanical and silent.
Marco stood six feet away, watching the middle distance, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Who are you?" he asked without turning.
"Executive secretary on the forty-third floor. I've been there eleven weeks."
He said nothing.
"I know who Mr. Moretti is," she added. Because the silence had a shape to it that seemed to be waiting for that acknowledgment.
"Everyone knows who Mr. Moretti is," Marco said, his voice flat.
"I mean I work for him. I'm not—I wasn't planted here. I wasn't trying to—the server asked me to carry the tray and I shouldn't have said yes. I knew I shouldn't. I have a history with trays and it's—"
She stopped. Pressed her lips together.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm explaining myself to you."
"Because you're scared," Marco said, still not looking at her.
She thought about denying it. Decided that was pointless.
"Yes."
"Don't be. He said what he said. When Mr. Moretti says something, it's done. Just like that."
The woman finished bandaging her hand. Evelyn flexed her fingers. The white gauze felt thick, sterile, and entirely out of place in the grand architecture of the Plaza.
"Go back in," Marco said. "Have dinner. Don't leave early. Leaving early would look like something."
"Like what?"
He finally turned to look at her, his dark eyes steady. "Like something," he repeated. "Go back in, Miss Harper."
She went back in.
Dinner was a three-course exercise in controlled anxiety. Evelyn ate without tasting anything. Across the table, a silver-haired corporate lawyer named Renata Voss watched her with barely concealed fascination.
"Are you always this exciting to sit next to?" Renata asked, swirling her Pinot Noir. "People are still talking about the red sea parting over Dante’s lapel. Half the room thought you were an assassin. The other half thought you were suicidal."
Evelyn didn't answer. She kept her eyes fixed on her salmon fillet, dividing it into mathematically precise squares.
From across the room, at the elevated central table where the most important people sat, she was aware twice of being looked at. She didn't look back both times.
The third time, she couldn't stop herself. When her eyes found Dante Moretti’s across the distance, he was already looking elsewhere, speaking smoothly to a city commissioner.
May you like
She told herself she had imagined it.
She ate her salmon. She drank water. She did not knock anything over for the remaining two hours of the event, which she counted as a significant personal achievement. When the gala finally concluded, she slipped out through the service exit, desperate for the anonymity of the subway and the cool autumn air.
