Silk & Steel: A Mafia Romance | ENGLOT - ON HOLD

Chapter 5: From Stage Lights to Stolen Glances

"Consider it done, Donna."

Wyvern shoved the phone back into her pocket, the familiar weight a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions. Patience was never her strong suit, and waiting for Bruno to compile his intel felt like an eternity. She stalked over to a plush armchair, sinking into its depths with a sigh. The plush velvet of the armchair swallowed Wyvern whole as sleep, a relentless thief, stole over her.

A heavy stack of folders landed on Wyvern's desk with a dull thud, jolting her awake.

"Mail from the Gilded Cage, Enna." Sofia said, sipping a cup of coffee.  "I'll be back in an hour with Luca." She reminded, closing the office door softly.

Disoriented, Wyvern blinked at the harsh morning light streaming through the window.  Her neck was stiff, a testament to the uncomfortable slumber she'd managed in the armchair.  She fell asleep while waiting.

She stretched, wincing at the pops in her back, and reached for the stack. Each folder likely contained details on a different dancer from the Gilded Cage.  With a sigh, Wyvern flipped open the first one. Headshots of women, each one beautiful in their own way, their faces a mixture of innocence and practiced seduction, stared back at her. Names were scrawled beneath, some real, some undoubtedly aliases.

Wyvern flipped through the files with practiced ease, her eyes scanning the photos.  But a pang of disappointment hit her with each passing face.  None of them matched the woman from the club.  Frustration gnawed at her.  How many dancers could there be?

Just as frustration began to gnaw at her, a picture snagged her attention.  There she was - the dancer.  The photo, likely a promotional shot, captured her fierce beauty.  Her dark hair tumbled down her back in wild curls, framing a face that held a mix of vulnerability and strength.  Even the cheesy stage makeup couldn't hide the haunted depths of her eyes.

Wyvern's heart hammered against her ribs.  This was her.  But the name printed below the photo was meaningless – Luna Bianca.  A stage name, most likely.

A slow smile spread across Wyvern's face.  Stage names or not, it's a start. She flipped to the file's first page, a determined glint returning to her eyes.  Luna Bianca might be a mystery, but Wyvern was a woman who thrived on unraveling them.

"Luna Bianca," she whispered out, her voice devoid of sleep's grogginess.  "Who are you?"

Wyvern, ignoring the remnants of sleep in her body, dove into the file.  Luna Bianca was just the tip of the iceberg, and Wyvern was determined to break through the ice and find the woman who had stirred something unexpected within.

...

The strobe lights painted the club in dizzying bursts of color, but Contessa barely registered them. The usual thrumming bass that vibrated through her bones was just background noise tonight. Her gaze kept flickering back to the darkened corner of the VIP booth, where Wyvern sat like a queen surveying her court.

Contessa had always thought Wyvern was a looker, all sharp angles and cool control in her tailored suits and sexy dresses. But after that messy business 3 nights ago, Wyvern had taken up permanent residence in Contessa's head. The memory – the sound of the gun, the sickening thud – sent a shiver down her spine even now. But there was something else too, a weird fluttering in her stomach whenever Wyvern's eyes met hers.

Contessa used to pride herself on being a steel trap, but that night had cracked something open. Now, every time she caught Enna watching – which felt like all the damn time – it sent a jolt through her. Maybe it was the fear of danger, the knowledge of what Wyvern was capable of. Or maybe, Contessa thought with a stab of something that felt suspiciously like shyness, it was just Wyvern herself.