Mio Sole

27 [Aurora]

**June 30th, 7 pm**

   Even after all of my effort to dress quickly, I'm late to the party. I'd even had seven members of my hair and makeup team help me get ready. Seven.

I sigh as I walk through the doors and onto the small balcony. I stop at the edge to take in the huge crowd, groaning internally at the extravagance. An entire wall plus the storage room have been altered to display enough food to feed an entire army for over a week. Half a dozen champagne fountains are placed around the room in addition to the servings circulating the room with trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The hall being used to host this gala was built during the Gilded Age, and I hate to admit that the excessively lavish designs go perfectly with the 1920's theme.

My dress only vaguely adheres to it. I'd decided against wearing a Flapper dress with all of the tassels, deciding it was too basic. That proves to be a good choice when I see that all of the women—though there are a suspicious lack of them—in the room are wearing variations of that. I did, however, take inspiration from the shiny, sparkling fabrics many of the wealthier women favored back then, but a more modern version of it. My dress is a glittering black fabric that falls to my ankles, the fabric under the soft lights making it look like the night sky. The bodice is fitted to show off my curves, the neckline dipping almost low enough to show my naval. The slit on my right thigh goes high enough to expose my hip, and I have to be grateful that Aleksandr had chosen to cut up the other one. Not that it would have mattered: all of the markings on my skin were color corrected and concealed by my team.

My hair is pinned up in swirls that show off the white half underneath, and my lips are painted with a striking black lipstick that makes my teeth look even brighter than the whites of my eyes by comparison.

My heart speeds up as I look down at the crowd, wondering how many people below know of Giovanni's...occupation. I haven't spoken to him since he told me and have tried not to think much about it—in vain, evidently. I wonder how many of these guests do something similar. My gut tightens with anxiety and something like guilt at the thought that this entire party was paid for by blood money.

I'm just about to turn around and find a bathroom to vomit in when my arrival is announced through a hidden speaker, and every set of eyes in the room turns to look at me.

Sighing again, I walk as gracefully as I can in 6 inch heels to the large curved staircase. The urge to vomit up all of my meager lunch from yesterday rises again at the intense feeling of being on display as I walk down them. My eyes dart quickly around the hundreds of pairs of eyes in the room, searching-

I spot Stefan at one of the tables in the corner of the room, standing with his back to the wall behind him. The perfect place in the room to observe everyone while making sure that you're not the one being observed. His eyes are intent, and he licks his lips as he roves his hungry gaze down my body. He's not the only one that does it, but he is the only one who's attention can make me want to blush.

As soon as I hit the last few stairs, half a dozen guys are surrounding me to offer their arms. I brush straight through them with little more than an apologetic expression, heading towards Stefan.

I barely make it a few feet away from the landing before Salvatore is upon me, a polite smile on his face directed towards the man next to him. A wide-set man with dark brown hair already streaked with gray and lifeless brown eyes that widen when he looks at me. "Aurora," Salvatore says, his voice more civil than I've ever heard it. "This is Daniel Rossi."

The man grabs my hand with his own sweaty one, and his touch sets everyone of my nerves on edge. Disgust courses through me as he brings his lips to my palm to place a wet kiss there, and it takes all of my willpower not to rip my hand away and wipe it off. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Aurora. May I have the honor of your first dance?"