Chapter Three
Evelyn decided her next move should be to subtly learn more about Isabella. She was a key figure in Sandro's life, and understanding their relationship could offer insights into his vulnerabilities or potential blind spots. Approaching Isabella directly might be too risky at this stage, so Evelyn opted for a more indirect approach.
She started frequenting the small boutiques and cafes that Isabella was known to visit, according to snippets of conversations Evelyn had overheard at the osteria. It took a few days of careful observation, but eventually, Evelyn found her browsing in a high-end jewelry store.
Taking a deep breath, Evelyn entered the store and pretended to examine a display case nearby. She kept Isabella in her peripheral vision, waiting for an opportune moment. When Isabella engaged a salesclerk about a delicate diamond necklace, Evelyn casually moved closer, feigning interest in a nearby bracelet.
"Excuse me," Evelyn said, her voice soft and polite, "that necklace is exquisite. May I ask who the designer is?"
Isabella turned, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "Oh, hello, Elena, isn't it?" Her tone was cool but not overtly unfriendly. "It's a local artisan. They have some lovely pieces."
"They do," Evelyn agreed, offering a genuine smile. "I'm still learning about the local artists and designers. Everyone here has such a refined sense of style." She hoped to appeal to Isabella's vanity.
Isabella seemed to soften slightly at the compliment. "Well, we do appreciate beautiful things."
The salesclerk returned, and Isabella turned her attention back to the necklace. Evelyn used the opportunity to browse nearby, close enough to overhear fragments of their conversation. Isabella mentioned an upcoming charity gala, a significant social event for the Italian community.
An idea sparked in Evelyn's mind. This could be her chance to get closer to Sandro in a more formal setting, a place where her presence wouldn't seem as out of place as in the more intimate confines of the osteria.
Later that week, Evelyn "ran into" Marco again, this time near a florist shop. Feigning interest in the elaborate bouquets, she struck up a conversation. Casually, she mentioned the upcoming charity gala, expressing admiration for the community's philanthropic efforts.
Marco, surprisingly chatty this time, confirmed the event was a significant one, attended by all the prominent families. He even mentioned that Sandro and Isabella would be there.
Evelyn seized the opportunity. "It sounds lovely. It must be quite exclusive though."
Marco chuckled. "It is. Tickets are usually by invitation."
Evelyn's mind was already working. She needed an invitation.
The next few days were a flurry of carefully orchestrated interactions. Evelyn volunteered at a local community center, subtly inquiring about the gala. She learned that it was partly organized by a prominent businesswoman with a long history in Little Italy. Evelyn researched the woman, Signora Emilia Rossi (no relation, thankfully).
Using her journalistic skills, Evelyn managed to secure an interview with Signora Rossi for her "article" on the community's history and charitable work. During the interview, she steered the conversation towards the upcoming gala, expressing admiration for its purpose. Signora Rossi, impressed by Evelyn's genuine interest and her connection to a local publication (a small online journal Evelyn had hastily created), offered her an invitation, suggesting it would be a good opportunity for her to meet more members of the community.
Evelyn accepted with carefully concealed elation. She had her ticket in.
The night of the gala arrived, a whirlwind of elegant gowns, sharp suits, and the clinking of champagne glasses. Evelyn, dressed in a sophisticated black dress that allowed her to blend in without being ostentatious, navigated the crowded ballroom, her senses on high alert.
It wasn't long before she spotted Sandro and Isabella. He looked even more imposing in a tuxedo, the air of power around him amplified by the formal setting. Isabella, radiant in a scarlet gown, clung to his arm, her smile dazzling for the cameras but holding a certain coolness in her eyes when she wasn't directly engaged with others.
Evelyn circulated, making polite conversation, observing the intricate social dynamics at play. She noticed the subtle ways people deferred to Sandro, the almost imperceptible nods of respect, the way conversations seemed to pause momentarily when he entered a room.
As the evening progressed, Evelyn found herself near the edge of the dance floor when Sandro and Isabella took to the floor. They moved with a practiced grace, their bodies close, their eyes locked. There was a palpable intimacy between them, a silent language of shared history and affection.
Despite the evidence of their strong bond, Evelyn couldn't shake the feeling that there were shadows beneath the surface. Sandro's gaze, when it occasionally drifted away from Isabella, held a certain darkness, a hint of something hidden and dangerous.
Suddenly, Sandro's eyes met Evelyn's across the crowded room. This time, there was no fleeting curiosity. His gaze lingered, a slow, deliberate assessment that sent a shiver down her spine. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, a silent acknowledgment that she was here, in his world.
The game had escalated. And Evelyn knew that with every step deeper into Alessandro Moretti's orbit, the line between observer and participant was becoming increasingly blurred, the risk of exposure – and the pull of something far more dangerous than just the truth – growing stronger.