A Dance with the Devil

Got it! Here's Chapter 65 with 1000 words.

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Chapter 65: A Dance with the Devil

Emma felt her pulse quicken as the man's gaze locked onto hers. His gray eyes, sharp and knowing, held her in place. The hint of a smirk on his lips sent a chill down her spine.

He knew.

Alexander's grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly, his movements never faltering as they continued their waltz. To anyone watching, they were just another glamorous couple enjoying the evening. But beneath the façade, every nerve in Emma's body was on high alert.

"Stay calm," Alexander murmured against her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "We don't know what he knows."

Emma took a steadying breath. "He's watching us."

"Then let him."

Alexander spun her gracefully, his eyes never leaving their target. The man in the serpent pin remained near the staircase, still engaged in conversation, but his attention never wavered.

Marcus's voice crackled through their earpieces. "I've got eyes on him. That's definitely our guy."

Emma exhaled. "The Revenant?"

"Or someone very close to him," Marcus replied. "Either way, we need to proceed carefully."

Alexander guided Emma closer to the edge of the dance floor, using the flow of the crowd to mask their movements. "We need a way to confirm his identity before making a move."

Emma's mind raced. "If he's part of the Collective, he must have connections here. Maybe he's meeting someone?"

Marcus hummed. "Already scanning. There are a few high-profile figures in attendance—arms dealers, corrupt politicians, even a few royals. If he's here for business, he won't be alone."

Alexander's gaze flickered toward a group near the bar. "There. The man in the navy suit. That's Dmitri Sokolov. Russian oligarch. Major player in the arms trade."

Emma recognized the name immediately. "He's one of the people funding the Collective."

Marcus cursed under his breath. "Well, that just made things more complicated."

Alexander's jaw tightened. "If Sokolov and the Revenant are meeting, this might be our only chance to intercept them."

Emma took a deep breath. "Then we need a way to get closer."

Before Alexander could respond, the man with the serpent pin made his move. He turned from his conversation and walked directly toward them.

Emma's heart pounded.

Alexander's grip on her hand remained firm. "Follow my lead."

They stepped off the dance floor just as the man reached them. Up close, his presence was even more unnerving. He was tall, impeccably dressed, with an air of absolute confidence.

"Vincent Laurent," he said smoothly, his French accent laced with amusement. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

Alexander didn't miss a beat. He smiled, offering a polite nod. "I never miss an opportunity for fine art and good company."

The man's gaze flickered to Emma. "And your companion?"

Alexander's smile never wavered. "Isabelle. My fiancée."

Emma forced a soft smile, playing along. "Enchanté."

The man studied her for a moment before returning his attention to Alexander. "A beautiful woman. You always did have good taste."

Marcus's voice came through their earpieces. "Okay, I don't like this guy."

Neither did Emma.

Alexander remained composed. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure."

The man smirked. "Of course not. I prefer to keep my name out of such circles."

Emma's pulse quickened. He was toying with them.

Alexander extended a hand. "Then allow me to introduce myself properly."

For a brief moment, it seemed like the man wouldn't take it. Then, finally, he clasped Alexander's hand in a firm shake.

"Lucien Moreau."

Emma schooled her expression, but inside, her mind was reeling.

Lucien Moreau.

It wasn't the name they expected—but that didn't mean it wasn't significant.

Marcus's voice came through, tense. "Stand by. Running his name now."

Lucien released Alexander's hand, his gaze sharp. "I must say, I was surprised to see you here, Vincent. You've been rather… absent from these events."

Alexander chuckled lightly. "Business has kept me busy. But I couldn't resist a night like this."

Lucien hummed, unconvinced. "Indeed."

Emma decided to take a risk. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with feigned curiosity. "And what about you, Monsieur Moreau? Are you a collector as well?"

Lucien's lips curved into a slow smile. "In a way."

Emma's skin prickled.

Before she could press further, a voice called out from behind them.

"Lucien! There you are."

Emma turned her head just in time to see Dmitri Sokolov approaching.

The Russian oligarch was a towering man with graying hair and a sharp gaze. He exuded power, the kind that came from years of operating in the shadows.

Lucien greeted him with a nod. "Dmitri."

Alexander seized the opportunity. "Dmitri Sokolov. It's been a long time."

Sokolov's gaze shifted to him, and for a moment, there was hesitation. Then, recognition sparked in his eyes.

"Vincent Laurent," he said, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "I almost didn't recognize you. You look… different."

Emma's stomach tightened.

Sokolov was testing them.

Alexander remained unfazed. "Time changes us all."

Sokolov chuckled. "Indeed."

Lucien observed the exchange with mild amusement. "I wasn't aware the two of you were acquainted."

Sokolov's expression darkened slightly. "Vincent and I have crossed paths before. Isn't that right?"

Alexander met his gaze evenly. "A long time ago."

Emma could feel the tension between them.

Lucien smiled. "Well, then. Perhaps we should all catch up properly. I hear the wine cellar here is exquisite."

Sokolov smirked. "I'd like that."

Marcus's voice was sharp in their earpieces. "Lex, this is a bad idea."

Alexander gave the slightest nod. "Lead the way."

Lucien gestured for them to follow.

Emma swallowed. They were walking straight into the lion's den.

And there was no turning back now.