Chapter 12 - The Lady in Emerald
Beatrice walked into the grand ballroom with her head held high.
She was dressed in a custom-tailored emerald green silk gown that hugged her
voluptuous curves with breathtaking elegance. The rich fabric cascaded over her
full hips, cinched perfectly at her waist, and framed her radiant décolletage.
Her thick brown curls had been styled into soft, glamorous waves that rested
against her shoulders, and a simple diamond pendant sparkled at the hollow of
her throat.
She did not look like a maid.
She looked like royalty.
Lorenzo walked down from the dais, met her at the bottom of the steps, and
offered his arm.
Beatrice slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, her fingers resting
against his tailored sleeve.
Lorenzo led her to the center of the stage, turning her to face the entire
organization.
"This is Beatrice Miller," Lorenzo announced, his voice filled with unmistakable
pride and reverence. "She saved my life last night. She uncovered the conspiracy
that would have destroyed every man in this room. And from this moment on, her
word carries the exact same authority as mine."
Lorenzo looked around the room, his eyes turning to cold steel.
"If anyone disrespects her, if anyone looks down on her, if anyone dares to
utter a single cruel word about her—you answer directly to me."
The room stood silent for one second before Marco slammed his fist against his
chest.
"Hail to the Lady of Falcone!" Marco shouted.
"Hail!" the entire room of one hundred hardened men roared in unison, bowing
their heads in deep, genuine respect.
Beatrice looked at the sea of men showing her honor, then turned to look at
Lorenzo.
May you like
A radiant, beautiful smile lit up her face, her eyes shining with tears of pure
triumph.
Lorenzo leaned down and whispered in her ear: "I told you they'd know your
name."
