The Room Where Masks Slip
The invitation did not specify time–only location.
That alone made it dangerous.
Neutral ground in this world was rarely neutral. It was curated, staged, layered with contingencies and hidden observers. Ava understood that now with an instinct that felt earned rather than taught.
The venue was an old palazzo on the outskirts of the city, restored just enough to appear respectable, abandoned just enough to allow plausible deniability. A place where deals could be discussed and disowned in the same breath.
As the car approached, Ava watched the building emerge through the iron gates–stone walls scarred by age, windows glowing faintly with candlelight instead of electricity. Intentional. Atmospheric. Designed to unsettle.
"They want intimacy," Ava said quietly.
"They want control," Alessandro replied. "They think smaller spaces reduce leverage."
Ava glanced at him. "They forget leverage doesn't require space."
His gaze lingered on her for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. "Stay close to me."
"I always do," she replied.
The car came to a stop.
Security swept the perimeter. Alessandro exited first, scanning the area with practiced ease. Ava followed not a step behind, not clinging, her posture calm and unyielding.
Inside, the palazzo smelled faintly of old stone and wine. Candles lined the walls, casting long shadows that made faces difficult to read. Voices murmured softly–too softly.
They were expected.
A man stepped forward to greet them. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, silver at his temples, smile polished and hollow.
"Alessandro Romano," he said smoothly. "And Signora Romano. Thank you for accepting our invitation."
Ava met his gaze directly. "We prefer clarity to avoidance."
The man's smile tightened. "As do we."
They were led into a private chamber with round table, six chairs, wine already poured. No weapons visible. That was never reassuring.
The Bellanti representatives were already seated.
Ava recognized one of them–the voice from the phone call.
He watched her with open curiosity now, no attempt to hide it.
"So," he said, leaning back in his chair, "the rumors were accurate."
Ava didn't look at him.
Alessandro spoke first. "State your purpose."
The man chuckled softly. "Direct. As always."
He turned his gaze to Ava. "You've made quite an impression."
"I wasn't trying to impress you," Ava replied calmly.
"No," he agreed. "You were trying to disrupt."
"And you were trying to intimidate," she said. "We're even."
A ripple of amusement passed around the table.
Alessandro's jaw tightened not in disapproval, but calculation.
"Let's dispense with games," the man said. "Your presence complicates existing balances."
"Balances that were already failing if I am correct," Ava said.
His gaze sharpened. "Careful."
"No," Ava replied evenly. "Honest."
Silence fell and it was charged and brittle.
"You're bold," the man said. "For someone so… new."
Ava met his gaze at last. "And you're cautious. For someone who called me at night instead of sending a message through proper channels."
That landed.
Alessandro felt it–the subtle shift in power, the recalibration happening in real time.
"We didn't expect you to speak," another man said.
"That's your mistake," Ava replied. "You expected Alessandro to speak for me."
She turned slightly toward her husband–not seeking permission, but alignment.
Alessandro inclined his head almost imperceptibly.
"We want assurance," the first man said. "That your marriage won't destabilize things further."
Ava leaned forward, resting her hands lightly on the table. "You want predictability."
"Yes," he said.
"Then stop testing us," she replied. "Pressure doesn't create fractures where there are none. It only reveals intent."
"And what is your intent?" he asked.
Ava didn't hesitate. "To survive. To protect my family. And to ensure that instability doesn't benefit those who thrive on chaos."
The man studied her for a long moment.
"You're not what we expected," he said.
"I know," Ava replied. "That's why this conversation is happening."
Alessandro spoke then with a slow and deliberate tond. "You threatened my wife."
A ripple of tension passed through the room.
"Indirectly," the man said. "A reminder of consequence."
"You will not repeat it," Alessandro said calmly.
"Or?"
"Or this conversation ends differently," Alessandro replied.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Finally, the man smiled again but this time, it didn't reach his eyes. "Very well."
He lifted his glass. "A truce, then. For now."
Alessandro did not lift his.
Ava did.
"Clarity," she said, and took a measured sip.
When they left the palazzo, the night air felt colder, sharper.
"Do you think it worked?" Ava asked quietly as they walked toward the car.
"For now," Alessandro replied. "They didn't expect you to command the room."
"They underestimated you too," Ava said.
"No," he corrected. "They underestimated what standing beside you would mean."
Inside the car, silence stretched but it was different now.
Not tense.
Weighted.
"You crossed another line tonight," Alessandro said finally.
Ava turned to him. "So did you."
"Yes," he agreed. "And I don't regret it."
She studied his face–the conflict still there, but tempered by something new.
Trust.
Not complete. Not reckless.
But growing.
As the estate gates closed behind them, Ava felt the shift deep in her bones.
The introduction phase was over.
She was no longer being tested quietly.
She was being acknowledged carefully, warily, reluctantly.
And that meant the next phase wouldn't be about pressure.
It would be about consequences.
Because once masks slipped in that room, they could never be worn the same way again.