The Lover in Disguise

Death had come for her. At least, that's what it seemed like as the man descended the grand staircase of the Venetian ballroom, his black cape flowing behind him and his gloved hand brushing the elegant marble banister. Allegra felt as if he were touching her skin, and for the rest of her life she would wonder about the intensity of that sensation. He wore a mask, like all the other guests, but that was the only resemblance between him and the others; or between him and any other mortal. He was dressed in black from head to toe, and the shiny mask covering his face was shaped like a skull. He must have painted his face black because I couldn't see a single trace of humanity in the small gaps for his eyes. She wasn't the only woman stunned by such a surprising appearance. A murmur ran through the ballroom; the resplendent creatures wrapped in multicolored silks trembled, heralding a glimpse of the stranger. Allegra was no exception. Wearing a beautiful violet dress, her identity hidden beneath a golden mask that left her mouth exposed, she indulged herself in the luxury of gazing at him at leisure. The party, held in one of Venice's most beautiful and historic hotels, had been organized by one of his brother's business partners. It was one of the most sought-after invitations in the world, and those who attended were part of the elite: Italian aristocracy, billionaires, heiresses who held an entire room captivated with a single glance. Supposedly, she was part of the group. Her father was a millionaire and a member of the nobility, with a lineage dating back to the Renaissance; her grandfather had built a successful real estate business; and her brother, Renzo, had brought glory to the Valenti name by turning the family business into an empire. Still, she didn't feel like any of those women. She didn't feel seductive and vibrant, but rather... caged. But this had to be her chance to lose her virginity to the man of her choice, not the prince she'd been promised to, who failed to warm her blood or spark her imagination. Maybe that sin would send her straight to hell. Although, who better to take her there than the devil himself? After all, he was there, and her entrance into the hall had affected him in a way her fiancé never had. She was about to take a step toward the stairs, but stopped, her heart racing so fast she thought she might feel dizzy. What was she doing? She wasn't the kind of woman who would approach a man at a party. Approach him, flirt, and ask him to… He didn't know how he had come up with such a thing. Allegra turned around. She wasn't going to court death at that party. Yes, her fantasy was to find a man who would excite her, but when it came down to it, she couldn't find the courage. Besides, her brother had taken her to that party, and if she caused any trouble, he'd surely set fire to the hotel. Renzo Valenti wasn't known for his affable temper. She, however, had learned to control hers. As a child, she had been a troublemaker, according to her parents. But she had endured endless lessons in poise, presence, composure, and many other things designed to make her a lady. And they had succeeded. At least, in her parents' opinion. Cristian Acosta, a Spanish duke and friend of her brother's, was to blame for everything that happened next. He had introduced her to Prince Raphael de Santis of Santa Firenze, and at the insistence of "dear" Cristian, whom Allegra wanted to strangle, she had been betrothed to a prince since she was sixteen. A triumph in the eyes of his parents. He should be happy, they had told him. She had become engaged to Raphael six years earlier, but she found him no more attractive now than she had been the day she met him. The prince was an attractive man, but he left her cold.