I nodded, but my heart was a heavy stone in my chest.

The Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel was a sea of gold and crystal.

The air was thick with the scent of lilies and expensive champagne.

The orchestra played a slow, melancholy waltz that echoed off the high gilded walls.

Men in sharp tuxedos laughed over crystal glasses, while women in diamond necklaces watched each other with calculating eyes.

This was the high society of Chicago, but it was built on blood.

I could see it in the way the men carried themselves.

They had the same hard look in their eyes that Dante had.

It was the look of men who were used to getting what they wanted, no matter the cost.

Dante was standing near the grand staircase, surrounded by a group of older men.

He spotted me the moment I walked in.

He excused himself from the group and walked toward me.

The crowd seemed to part for him naturally.

“You look stunning, Sophia,” he said, taking my hand.

His touch was warm, but his eyes were alert, scanning the room behind me.