Chapter 7 - The Gala of Shadows
Three months later, the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was bathed in shimmering crystal light and the sweet sound of a fifty-piece orchestra.
The annual New York Maritime Charity Gala was in full swing. One thousand guests—senators, foreign ambassadors, shipping magnates, and Manhattan society elite—filled the room, sipping champagne and admiring the floral arrangements.
Standing on the mezzanine balcony overlooking the crowd were Edmund and Vivian Costa.
Vivian looked breathtaking in a floor-length dress of deep midnight blue silk that clung to her curves, a brilliant diamond necklace—a gift from Edmund—sparkling at her throat.
Edmund stood behind her in an immaculate black tuxedo, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist, resting his chin softly against her shoulder as they watched the party below.
“Look at them,” Vivian whispered with a quiet laugh. “Three months ago, half these people thought we’d be dead or in federal prison.”
“Now they’re bidding against each other to buy shipping shares in Hale-Costa Maritime,” Edmund noted softly against her ear. “Your father’s old creditors paid off every debt yesterday.”
“And my father?” Vivian asked.
“Living comfortably in a penthouse in West Palm Beach,” Edmund reported. “He tried to enter a high-stakes poker game at the country club last Tuesday, but Tommy’s security detail escorted him out before he could lay down a single chip.”
Vivian laughed softly, resting her hand over Edmund’s on her waist. “Good. Keep him on a tight leash.”
Franky Vance walked up the balcony stairs, wearing a tux that was slightly too tight across his thick shoulders. He held a silver tray with two glasses of vintage champagne.
“Boss. Mrs. Costa,” Franky said respectfully, offering them the glasses. “The Maritime Commission just signed off on the new pier expansion project in New Jersey. Construction begins on Monday.”
“Excellent work, Franky,” Edmund said, taking a glass.
Franky hesitated, looking at Vivian with deep respect. “And the union rep from Local 181 sent a gift to your office, Mrs. Costa. He said to thank you for settling the pension dispute without a strike.”
“Tell him I’ll accept the gift if it’s a box of those Italian cigars he imports,” Vivian said with a wink.
Franky chuckled heartily. “I’ll tell him right away, ma'am.” He bowed his head and retreated back down the stairs.
Vivian turned around in Edmund’s arms, holding her champagne glass, looking up into his dark, handsome face.
“You know,” Vivian murmured, tapping her glass gently against his, “when you walked into my father’s study six months ago, I thought you were the devil coming to collect a soul.”
Edmund smiled, his gray eyes shining with warmth. “And now?”
“Now I think the devil met his match,” she replied.
Edmund laughed softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against her temple. “You saved my life twice, Vivian. How am I ever going to pay off that debt?”
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Vivian rested her face against his chest, listening to the calm, powerful beat of his heart—the same heart that had accelerated against her dress on their wedding night.
“You don't need to pay it off, Edmund,” Vivian whispered, looking up into his eyes with absolute certainty. “Just keep dancing with me.”
