Anthony watched Viktor's bleeding, broken figure disappear up the stone stairs. He finally let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, dropping his cold, terrifying mob-boss persona for just a moment.
Stepping out of the subterranean cellar, Anthony saw Abram sitting in a wheelchair, weakly giving instructions to the remaining captains waiting outside the main conference room.
Anthony walked over, casually gestured for the captains to give them privacy, and then leaned down to whisper something directly into Abram's ear.
A strange, incredulous light flashed in the older man's cloudy eyes. He stared at his nephew for a long moment, then gave a firm, understanding nod.
By the time Anthony returned to the city, Manhattan was already brightly lit for the night. The neon signs from the storefronts illuminated his scarred face as he drove the armored Pathfinder down the busy avenues.
He was just trying to find a quiet place to grab a steak when his personal phone buzzed. It was Winnie.
"I'm currently at the corner of 52nd Street and 5th Avenue, right near the Plaza Hotel," Winnie said quickly. "Get here as fast as you can. And please, bring a smile and a lot of patience."
When Anthony finally pulled up to the Plaza, he saw Winnie pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. She looked highly anxious, a stark contrast to her usual composed, aristocratic demeanor.
He handed the keys of the Pathfinder over to a very intimidated valet and walked toward her.
Before he could even say hello, Winnie took one look at his blood-stained, rumpled gray suit and aggressively pulled him into an ultra-high-end boutique next door without uttering a single word.
Anthony obediently kept his mouth shut, deciding to just go with the flow and let her do whatever she wanted.
Winnie marched directly up to the head tailor and pointed to a display mannequin. "A navy blue, worsted wool suit. The entire set. Now."
The shop assistant's eyes lit up with dollar signs. She smiled brilliantly. "Right away, Miss Pritzker. Please, wait just one moment."
A few minutes later, several assistants hurried over carrying velvet trays laden with clothing.
Anthony genuinely gasped when he saw the haul.
A flawless, bespoke navy suit. A solid-color, incredibly soft cashmere turtleneck sweater. Handcrafted Italian leather oxfords. A Vacheron Constantin dress watch to borrow for the evening. Even a silk pocket square folded into a perfect, razor-sharp line.
The shop assistants wore faint, knowing smiles, their gazes darting between Winnie and Anthony with a distinct hint of romantic ambiguity.
The overwhelming pampering made even a hardened combat veteran like Anthony feel genuinely uneasy. Aside from his mother when he was a child, absolutely no one had ever bought him clothing like this. It didn't matter how expensive it was; the simple, undeniable meaning behind the gesture was what truly hit him.
"Go change into your clothes," Winnie urged him with a small, genuine smile, noticing his scarred face was slightly flushed. "We're going to be late."
The shop assistant guided Anthony toward the luxurious fitting rooms. Before stepping inside, he glanced back over his shoulder at Winnie. She gave him a cheerful, highly uncharacteristic wink.
It was a subtle, flirty gesture that the ice-cold Winnie Pritzker had never made before.
Anthony's heart instantly started racing like a jackhammer.
Oh no. She definitely has ulterior motives towards me tonight!
But then Anthony remembered the sheer, uncharacteristic anxiety she had displayed outside the hotel, and a sudden pang of dread hit him.
"Wait..." Anthony muttered to himself as he pulled the cashmere sweater over his head. "She's not about to introduce me to her parents, is she?"
A few minutes later, Anthony stepped out of the fitting room, still grumbling under his breath about the tight fit of the jacket across his broad shoulders.
"Miss Pritzker, you have absolutely phenomenal taste," the head tailor gushed. "Your boyfriend looks incredibly dashing in this cut."
"Thank you," Winnie said softly. She looked Anthony up and down, her expression pausing for a fraction of a second as she took in how genuinely handsome and imposing he looked in the bespoke tailoring. Her smile remained politely reserved.
Anthony took the heavy shopping bag containing his blood-stained mob suit from the assistant and formally offered his arm to Winnie.
Winnie hesitated for a brief moment, then gently slipped her hand into the crook of his arm.
"Is something wrong?" Anthony asked nervously as they walked out of the boutique and into the cool night air. "It's not too late to tell me I'm walking into a trap, you know."
Winnie could feel the hard, coiled muscle of his arm trembling very slightly beneath the fine wool. She suppressed a mischievous urge to tease him.
"My family practically ordered me to attend a high-society blind date tonight at the Plaza," Winnie confessed.
Anthony instantly understood the entire setup. A wave of profound disappointment washed over him.
"Wow. That is so incredibly cliché!" Anthony groaned. "Let me guess: you want me to play the role of your fake boyfriend tonight to scare off the wealthy suitors?"
Winnie leveled a fierce glare at him. "You are going to do me this favor, Anthony. Or I swear to God, I will cancel your unlimited credit card right now."
"Furthermore," Winnie added, her amber eyes narrowing threateningly, "I also know for a fact that you gave false testimony to the NYPD regarding your whereabouts during a certain pharmaceutical executive's death."
Anthony chuckled, entirely unbothered by her weak attempt at blackmail. "So, you're threatening to drag me down with you if I don't play along?"
"That's exactly how it is," Winnie said.
A deep, hidden hint of genuine worry flashed in Winnie's eyes, but she desperately tried to mask it so Anthony wouldn't see.
She didn't dare tell Anthony the terrifying truth: Blake, the pharmaceutical CFO, had been brutally executed the night before, and the entire Pritzker family empire was currently in a state of absolute, paranoid chaos.
The family had no idea who was targeting their pharmaceutical assets.
Winnie pictured her father, Tristan Pritzker, and his perpetually calculating, ruthless face. He was actively waiting for her to make a single, fatal mistake. He was waiting for an excuse to aggressively dismantle her hotel empire and divide the highly profitable assets among her greedy relatives, particularly her ambitious older brother, Enrico.
Tonight's "blind date" was likely a political trap designed by her father to force her into a disadvantageous corporate marriage.
As they walked toward the grand, gilded entrance of the Plaza Hotel, Anthony suddenly spoke up. "Winnie. Do you actually know who I am now? Do you know what I've become over the last forty-eight hours?"
Winnie tightened her grip on his arm and lowered her voice to a whisper.
"All I know is that you are my oldest high school classmate. And right now... you are the only person in this entire city that I actually trust."
The rare, profound vulnerability shining in Winnie's eyes struck Anthony right in the heart.
"Alright," Anthony sighed, his demeanor shifting from nervous to totally focused. "What are my operational parameters?"
Winnie breathed a sigh of relief, a flash of deep gratitude warming her features. "It's relatively simple. We just pretend we're on a serious date. Stay physically intimate, but don't overdo it and make it look trashy."
"No matter who asks you a question, just tell them we've known each other since high school and recently reconnected in the city. Do not mention your military service in Afghanistan. Do not mention the Tarasov syndicate. Just talk warmly about our high school days."
"That sounds overly complicated," Anthony said, shifting his arm so he could securely hold her hand instead. "But lying to wealthy people is basically my core competency. As long as I don't have to physically slap someone across the face, I think we'll be fine."
Winnie nodded, though a deep unease still lingered in her gaze. "Be careful, Anthony. They... my family might aggressively test you."
"Let them try," Anthony chuckled, a hint of his mob-boss arrogance bleeding through. "Trust me, Winnie. I've survived much tougher interrogations than this."
As they stepped into the grand lobby and approached the private elevators, Winnie took a deep, steadying breath. "Are you ready?"
"Always," Anthony replied.
They stepped into the opulent, mirrored elevator. As the gold doors slid shut, Winnie briefly rested her head against his shoulder.
"Thank you, Anthony," she whispered.
"Don't thank me too soon," Anthony replied dryly, watching the floor numbers rapidly tick upward. "There is a highly statistical probability that I am going to drastically mess this up for you."
"No, you won't," Winnie said, looking up at him. Her amber eyes flashed with an incredibly complex emotion that Anthony's tactical mind completely failed to decipher.
"Aside from your terrible academic grades... you have never once let me down, Anthony."
Hearing such profound, genuine praise from her made Anthony's heart ache with a strange, heavy guilt regarding his dark, violent secrets.
Massive crystal chandeliers cascaded from the ceiling like a waterfall of frozen stars, bathing the entire ballroom in a blinding, golden splendor.
Immaculately dressed waiters carrying silver trays of vintage champagne navigated gracefully through the sea of silk gowns and bespoke tuxedos. The soft murmur of hushed whispers, the delicate clinking of crystal flutes, and the crisp, rhythmic sound of designer high heels clicking against the polished marble floor created the unmistakable, suffocating background music of New York high society.
This was the Grand Ballroom on the top floor of the Plaza Hotel. It was an exclusive sanctuary for the elite, a world of generational wealth and power that ordinary civilians could scarcely comprehend.
While Winnie had slipped into a private suite to change into her formal evening wear, Anthony had been left leaning casually against a marble pillar near the entrance, waiting in profound boredom.
It is so incredibly annoying that you aren't allowed to smoke in this godforsaken palace,Anthony grumbled internally.
When Winnie finally emerged, Anthony's breath hitched.
She was wearing a stunning, minimalist dark green velvet gown. The sleek cut perfectly accentuated her elegant curves without being overly revealing. Her posture highlighted the graceful, swan-like curve of her neck and shoulders. Her chestnut-gold hair had been swept up into a sophisticated high bun, with a few loose, curled strands framing her face, making her sharp, amber eyes appear even deeper and more calculating.
Heavy emerald earrings dangled from her lobes, swaying gently with every confident step she took.
Anthony was genuinely floored. Why do women dress like they are literally going to war for these kinds of social events?
"Have you seen enough?" Winnie asked, a slight, victorious smirk playing on her lips as she noticed him staring blankly at her. "I promise you, the politics in this room are vastly more cutthroat than our high school prom."
Anthony quickly recovered. He stepped forward and forcefully guided her hand into the crook of his arm, pulling her close. "You don't look entirely terrible."
"I was just thinking that I might not actually be able to protect you tonight. If I don't stay close, these lecherous, trust-fund guys might line up and try to challenge me to a duel for your honor."
The two of them stepped fully into the blinding light of the ballroom side by side, instantly becoming the absolute center of attention.
"Who on earth is that?" an older socialite whispered behind her fan.
"I don't recognize him at all," a wealthy businessman chuckled softly. "But judging from the sheer physical bulk and the aggressive posture of her companion, he certainly isn't from our social circle."
"I can't believe a stray dog managed to wander into a gala like this. Is Winnie intentionally trying to drive her father into an early grave?"
"Who knows? But it looks like we might get some excellent theatrical entertainment tonight."
As the aristocratic crowd continued to whisper and stare, a highly grating, sharp female voice suddenly pierced the elegant ambiance.
"Oh, Winnie! You look so wonderfully 'plain' this evening. Could you truly not find a single decent, wealthy companion for the gala? Did you just drag some random, blue-collar stray off the street to fill the void?"
Winnie didn't break her stride, nor did she even bother to glance in the direction of the insult.
The speaker was her younger sister, Christine Pritzker. Christine was dressed in an incredibly flashy, silver-white backless gown that screamed for attention. She was walking arm-in-arm with their highly ambitious, perpetually scheming older brother, Enrico.
Enrico stepped directly into their path, offering a forced, completely hollow smile.
"Winnie. We are hosting incredibly important, sensitive guests here tonight," Enrico said, his eyes raking over Anthony with blatant disgust. "It is profoundly inappropriate for you to drag an unvetted outsider into a family affair. Don't you agree?"
Anthony looked calmly between the two arrogant siblings. He raised his eyebrows in feigned, exaggerated surprise.
"Oh, you two haven't managed to find dates for yourselves yet? Is it because everyone in this room already knows you're insufferable?"
Ignoring the immediate, shocked gasp from Christine, Anthony smoothly slid his arm down, firmly intertwining his fingers with Winnie's. He raised their locked hands slightly, a blatant, provocative display of intimacy right in Enrico's face.
Read ahead with 70+ chapters now with daily updates!
@patreon.com/Authorizz