Chapter 3 The Masquerade

Sofia Martinez stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of the Meridien Hotel's penthouse suite and barely recognized herself. The FBI's transformation team had worked for six hours to turn Special Agent Sofia Martinez into Lucia Castellano-mafia princess and future bride to one of the most dangerous men in America.

Her naturally dark hair had been styled into elegant waves that cascaded over one shoulder. Professional makeup artists had subtly altered her features with contouring and shadows, making her cheekbones more prominent and her eyes more mysterious. The burgundy silk dress hugged her figure perfectly while maintaining an air of sophisticated modesty that would appeal to traditional Italian sensibilities.

She looked like money. She looked like power. She looked like exactly the kind of woman who would marry into the Romano family for political alliance.

She looked nothing like the FBI agent who had killed three men in a warehouse forty-eight hours ago.

"Remember," Agent Torres spoke through her nearly invisible earpiece, "you've lived in Switzerland for ten years. Educated at Institut Le Rosey, fluent in French and German, degree in international business from University of Geneva. Your parents died in a car accident when you were sixteen, raised by your uncle Roberto Castellano until you moved to Europe."

Sofia touched the diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist-a gift from "Uncle Roberto" that concealed a GPS tracker and emergency beacon. "I've memorized the entire backstory, Torres. The question is whether Dante Romano will buy it."

"He will if you sell it right. You're meeting at Marea restaurant, neutral territory. High-end seafood place on Central Park South-public enough to feel safe, exclusive enough for family business. Romano made the reservation for eight PM."

Sofia checked her Cartier watch-another prop from the FBI's evidence locker. 7:43 PM. In seventeen minutes, she would come face to face with the man she was supposed to marry, seduce, and ultimately betray.

"What if he recognizes that something's wrong?"

"Then you improvise and survive," Torres said grimly. "But remember-no matter what happens, you cannot break character. Lucia Castellano is sheltered, intelligent, but ultimately obedient to family wishes. She wouldn't know how to field-strip a Glock or kill a man with her bare hands."

Sofia slipped her feet into Italian leather heels and grabbed the Hermès clutch that contained her fake passport, credit cards, and emergency phone. "Understood. Lucia Castellano reporting for duty."

"Martinez?" Torres's voice softened slightly. "Be careful. We've been monitoring Romano family communications, and there's chatter about increased security for tonight. They're taking this alliance seriously."

"Good. That means they won't be expecting deception from their new family member." Sofia headed for the door, her heels clicking against marble floors. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

Fifteen minutes later, Sofia sat at a corner table in Marea's elegant dining room, watching Dante Romano approach through the crowd of Manhattan's elite. Her first thought was that the FBI surveillance photos hadn't done him justice-he was tall, broad-shouldered, and moved with the predatory grace of a man who was comfortable with violence. His tailored charcoal suit probably cost more than most people made in a year, and his dark eyes swept the restaurant like a security professional checking for threats.

Her second thought was that he was absolutely gorgeous, which complicated things considerably.

"Miss Castellano?" His voice was deeper than she'd expected, with just a trace of Brooklyn accent beneath the educated polish. "I'm Dante Romano."

Sofia rose gracefully, extending her hand with the practiced poise of European finishing school training. "Please, call me Lucia. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Dante's hand was warm and calloused-the hands of a man who'd done physical work, not just given orders. His handshake lingered a moment longer than strictly proper, and Sofia felt an unexpected flutter of genuine attraction that she ruthlessly suppressed.

"I apologize for the circumstances," Dante said as he held her chair. "I imagine this arrangement is as awkward for you as it is for me."

Sofia allowed herself a small smile as she settled into her seat. "Awkward? Mr. Romano, I was raised to understand that marriage is a partnership between families, not just individuals. My uncle Roberto speaks very highly of your father."

"Please, call me Dante." He signaled the sommelier, who appeared instantly with a wine list. "And your uncle is a man of... impressive reputation. I look forward to working with the Castellano organization."

The waiter arrived to take their orders, and Sofia found herself genuinely enjoying the ritual of an expensive dinner. She ordered the lobster risotto and watched Dante's reaction when she switched effortlessly between English and Italian while discussing wine pairings with their server.

"Your Italian is excellent," Dante observed once they were alone. "Very Sicilian. Where did you learn?"

"From my nonna before she died," Sofia replied smoothly, drawing on childhood memories of her own grandmother. "She insisted I understand our heritage, even living so far from family."

"And what brought you back to America? Uncle Roberto mentioned you'd built a successful life in Switzerland."

Sofia had rehearsed this answer dozens of times, but sitting across from Dante's intense dark eyes made her suddenly nervous. There was an intelligence there that suggested he missed very little, and she had the uncomfortable feeling he was evaluating every word.

"Family obligation," she said simply. "Uncle Roberto has no male heirs, and the Castellano name needs to continue through alliance with a strong family. When he explained the benefits of uniting our organizations..." She shrugged elegantly. "Some things are more important than personal preference."

Dante nodded, but his expression remained thoughtful. "You don't sound entirely convinced."

Sofia met his gaze directly. "Would you be, in my position? I'm being asked to marry a man I've never met, move to a country I barely remember, and become part of a world that..." She paused delicately. "Well, that operates very differently from international business."

"You mean a world where people solve problems with violence instead of lawyers."

The blunt honesty surprised her. Sofia had expected Dante to maintain the polite fiction that the Romano family was purely legitimate. "I mean a world where family loyalty sometimes requires personal sacrifice."

Dante laughed, and the sound was genuinely warm. "You have a diplomat's gift for tactful language. Yes, Lucia, you're absolutely right. You're being asked to marry a criminal and become part of a criminal enterprise. The question is whether you can live with that reality."

Sofia found herself leaning forward, genuinely intrigued by this unexpected honesty. "And can you? Live with that reality, I mean?"

"I've been trying to change it for years," Dante admitted, cutting his osso buco with precise motions. "There are ways to generate wealth and power without leaving bodies in our wake. But changing a family business that's operated the same way for three generations... it's complicated."

"Change usually is." Sofia tasted her risotto and made an appreciative sound. "But sometimes the most difficult changes are the most necessary ones."

Dante studied her face with an intensity that made her suddenly aware of how dangerous this conversation was becoming. She was supposed to be a sheltered mafia princess, not someone who discussed organizational reform with criminal heirs.

"You're not what I expected," Dante said finally.

"What did you expect?"

"Someone more... traditional. Most women in our world are content to focus on home and family while their husbands handle business matters. You seem like someone who has opinions about how things should be run."

Sofia forced herself to blush slightly and look down at her plate. "I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn. Uncle Roberto always said I was too independent for my own good."

"Don't apologize." Dante reached across the table and touched her hand briefly. "I find intelligence attractive. If we're going to be married, I'd prefer a partner who can hold an intelligent conversation."

The simple contact sent an unexpected jolt through Sofia's nervous system. She looked up to find Dante watching her with something that might have been genuine interest, and for a moment she forgot that this was an undercover operation. He was treating her like a person instead of a political asset, which was more consideration than she'd expected from a mafia prince.

"Tell me about Switzerland," Dante said, withdrawing his hand and returning to his dinner. "What did you do there?"

Sofia launched into her carefully constructed backstory-international business degree, internship at a private bank in Geneva, consulting work for multinational corporations. She'd rehearsed these details so thoroughly that they felt like real memories, and Dante seemed genuinely interested in her fictional career.

"That experience could be valuable," he said when she finished. "The Romano family has been expanding internationally-partnerships with organizations in Eastern Europe, South America, Asia. Someone with your background could help us navigate the complexities of global business."

Sofia felt a chill that had nothing to do with the restaurant's air conditioning. Dante wasn't just making conversation-he was already planning how to use her supposed skills to expand criminal operations across multiple continents. The man sitting across from her might be charming and intelligent, but he was still a criminal who saw her as an asset to be exploited.

"I'd be honored to contribute however I can," she said carefully.

"Good." Dante smiled, but there was something calculating in his expression now. "Because if this marriage is going to work, we'll need to trust each other completely. In our world, secrets can be deadly."

The words carried an unmistakable edge of warning, and Sofia realized that despite the pleasant conversation, Dante Romano hadn't let his guard down for a moment. He was evaluating her just as carefully as she was studying him.

"Of course," Sofia replied smoothly. "Complete honesty is the foundation of any successful partnership."

The irony wasn't lost on either of them.

As their dinner continued, Sofia found herself caught between professional admiration and personal confusion. Dante was clearly intelligent, thoughtful, and surprisingly principled for a criminal. He spoke passionately about wanting to modernize his family's operations, about reducing violence and building legitimate businesses. Under different circumstances, she might have genuinely liked him.

But circumstances weren't different. She was an FBI agent whose job was to gather evidence that would destroy everything he was trying to build. The man across from her might be charming, but he was also a killer who'd inherited one of the most dangerous criminal enterprises in America.

"So," Dante said as they shared tiramisu for dessert, "what do you think? Can you see yourself becoming Mrs. Romano?"

Sofia looked into his dark eyes and felt a stab of something that might have been guilt. "I think we understand each other, Dante. And understanding is a good foundation for marriage."

"Even a marriage that's really a business merger?"

"Especially then." Sofia raised her wine glass in a small toast. "To successful partnerships."

Dante clinked his glass against hers, his eyes never leaving her face. "To successful partnerships. And to hoping this one doesn't get us both killed."

As they drank, Sofia wondered if Dante Romano suspected the truth about her identity, or if he was simply acknowledging the general dangers of their criminal world. Either way, his final words felt like prophecy.

By the time this was over, one of them would almost certainly be dead.

The only question was which one.