The Vaguardia Gala was held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The stairs were covered by a crimson carpet, lined with velvet ropes, and hundreds of paparazzi were shouting. The lights flashed like lightning as the limousines unloaded the richest people in the world. Julia Thor stepped out of a black Mercedes Maybach. He looked impeccable in a Tom Ford tuxedo, but the cameras didn’t focus on him first. They focused on the woman beside him.
Isabella Ricci wore a dress that barely covered her body: shimmering silver, with a slit up to her hip and a dangerously deep neckline. She looked like a movie star. She captivated everyone’s attention, blowing kisses to the press. “Julia, Julia!” shouted a Vanity Fair reporter. “Over here! Who’s that gorgeous woman?” Julia smiled, with the smile of someone who thought he had won the lottery. He put a possessive hand on Isabella’s waist. “This is Isabella. She is a consultant for Thor Enterprises for our new brand.”
“Where’s your wife, Elara?” another reporter shouted. “We heard she’d be here.” Julia didn’t blink. He had rehearsed the lie in the car. He adopted a solemn and worried expression. “Unfortunately, Elara is not well tonight. She apologizes. Sincerely, this fast-paced world is not hers. She prefers the tranquility of home.”
“Is it true that Sterling’s merger will take place tonight?” “You’ll have to wait for the opening speech,” Julia said with a wink, as he led Isabella up the stairs.
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