The Party

Aria.

12 hours before the party.

The car door swung open, and I stumbled out, my ankles wobbling in the damn torture devices Viktor called shoes. Biting back a curse, I straightened up, ignoring the burn in my soles. The driver smirked, clearly enjoying my struggle. Asshole.

"Get moving," he snarled, his eyes trailing over me with disdain. "And don't forget, if you mess this up, you can kiss your dear brother goodbye. We won't think twice about making him vanish. For good."

My fingers twitched, itching to claw that smug look off his face. But I couldn't. Not with Mikey's life on the line. I took a steadying breath, the cool night air a stark contrast to the fury simmering in my veins.

Focus, Aria. One step at a time. Just like Viktor drilled into you.

I squared my shoulders and started the painful trek toward the entrance. The grand building loomed before me, its lush gardens stretching out like a green carpet. Massive pillars reached skyward, supporting a balcony that wrapped around the second floor. It was a monument to wealth and power, fit for the gods—or in this case, the mafia.

The sounds of music and laughter drifted from inside, a stark contrast to the knot of dread in my stomach. As I approached the front entrance, a burly bouncer stepped in my path, eyeing me up and down.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said with a smirk that made my skin crawl, "but this is a private event. Guests only."

I felt the eyes of other partygoers on me, their gazes mocking my server's uniform. Heat crept up my neck, but I forced it down. No time for embarrassment when Mikey was counting on me.

I plastered on a saccharine smile, letting a hint of sarcasm seep into my voice. "Oh, I'm sorry. I must have missed the dress code memo that said only those with designer clothes and empty heads were allowed in."

The bouncer's smirk faded, replaced by a scowl. He towered over me, his bulk designed to intimidate. "Listen, missy," he growled, "I suggest you turn around and go back to serving drinks. This function is not for your kind."

My cheeks flushed, anger bubbling up inside me. I balled my hands into fists, nails digging into my palms. "What do you mean 'my kind'?" I demanded, injecting as much venom into my words as I dared. "I'm a server with the catering team. It's my job to be here."

He sneered down at me. "Then you belong 'round back, not mingling with the guests. Now get lost before I make you regret it."

For a moment, I considered telling him exactly where he could shove his threats. But Mikey's face flashed in my mind—bruised, bloodied, pleading. I swallowed my retort and spun on my heel, wobbling slightly as I headed for the service entrance. The man's mocking laughter followed me, each chuckle like a thorn in my side.

Dickhead.

I rounded the corner, my eyes scanning for the back entrance. There—an imposing man was searching everyone before they entered. Built like a tank, with dark, wavy hair pulled back to reveal several scars. His piercing blue eyes were framed by strong, sculpted features, and he was dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit. As I approached, his gaze locked onto me, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

"Name?" he asked, his voice deep and authoritative.

"Soph—" I caught myself just in time, my heart slamming against my ribs. Shit. Pull it together. "I mean, Sonia... it's Sonia Brown," I stammered, silently cursing myself for the near slip-up. Viktor would have had my head if he knew how close I came to blowing my cover.

The man glanced at a list in his hand and nodded. "You may enter, but first, a quick check for weapons and devices." He retrieved a handheld scanner from his pocket.

My stomach dropped. The microchips. Hidden in my hair, disguised as bobby pins. If he found them, I was dead. Mikey was dead. I needed to think fast.

As he was about to scan me, I let my ankle wobble—not entirely an act in those godforsaken shoes. I stumbled forward, bumping into him and sending his scanner clattering to the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" I gasped, feigning embarrassment. We both bent down to retrieve the scanner, and I used the moment of distraction to slip the microchips into the pocket of his pants. My heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it, but he didn't seem to notice, his attention focused on the fallen device.

"It's alright," he said, straightening up and running the scanner over me. "Just be more careful next time."

I nodded, mumbling another apology as I stepped through the service entrance. Only when I was past him did I allow myself a small, shaky breath of relief. Holy shit, that was close. But I did it. Now I just needed to figure out how to get those chips back.

Inside, the opulence of the mansion hit me like a wave. Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the grand ballroom as I passed. The air buzzed with excitement and tension, a heady mix that set my nerves on edge.

I slipped off my shoes, carrying them as I navigated toward the bustling kitchen. Snippets of conversation floated around me—servers sharing stories of mishaps and the strict expectations of the catering manager. My palms grew sweaty, and I felt a bead of perspiration trickle down the side of my face.

Get a grip, Aria. You've come too far to lose it now.

"New girl! Over here!" a stern voice called out. I turned to see a hatchet-faced middle-aged woman, her expression all business. This must have been the manager everyone had been talking about.

I squared my shoulders, plastering on what I hoped was a convincing smile. "Yes, ma'am?"

She eyed me critically, her gaze lingering disapprovingly on my bare feet. "You're late. Which means you're starting at a disadvantage, so you'll need to pick up the pace. Remember, walk like a lady, heels on at all times. We have a reputation to uphold."

I nodded, sliding my feet back into the torturous shoes. "Of course, ma'am. Thank you."

As she turned away, barking orders at other servers, I took a deep breath. The weight of what I was about to do settled over me like a heavy cloak. But I pushed it aside. I couldn't afford to let fear or doubt creep in. Not when Mikey's life hung in the balance.

Time to get to work.

***