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Page 16 of Falling For Her French Tycoon (Escape To Provence 1)

I watched as Raffaele handed the man a small, folded piece of paper. The exchange was quick, almost too fast to catch, but the secrecy of it sent a chill down my spine.

The man took the paper and slipped it into his pocket, glancing around nervously before nodding once more. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Good,” Raffaele said, his tone final. “Make sure you do.”

The two men parted ways, and I quickly turned away, pretending to examine a nearby painting as Raffaele walked past. He didn’t notice me, his mind clearly preoccupied with whatever plans he was setting in motion. I waited until he was out of sight before I let out the breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

I made my way back to Massimo, my thoughts racing. Whatever Raffaele was involved in, it wasn’t just politics or charity. He was orchestrating something that required secrecy and precision, and the urgency in his voice told me it was happening soon.

Maybe even tonight…

Massimo was speaking with a small group of politicians when I returned to his side. He glanced at me, a question in his eyes, but I just gave him a small, reassuring smile. This wasn’t the time or place to bring up what I’d overheard, not with so many eyes and ears around us. But as I stood there, nodding along to the conversation, my mind was elsewhere, turning over Raffaele’s words and trying to piece together what he could possibly be planning.

As the evening continued, I stayed close to Massimo, my senses heightened, my gaze drifting back to Raffaele every now and then. I knew I needed to tell Massimo what I’d heard, but for now, I kept it to myself, letting the pieces fall into place in my mind. There was more to uncover, and I intended to find out exactly what Raffaele was up to—before it was too late.

I glanced over at Massimo. He was engaged in a discussion with a senator, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. Now wasn’tthe time to interrupt him, but I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. My gut told me that Raffaele’s plans were far from innocent, and if I was going to be part of Massimo’s world, I couldn’t just sit back and let things unfold without at least trying to gather more information.

My eyes swept the room, searching for the tall, thin man Raffaele had been speaking with. He was slipping through the crowd, moving with purpose toward the far side of the ballroom, near a set of ornate double doors that led out to a quieter hallway. I hesitated for only a moment before making up my mind.

“One moment,” I whispered to Massimo, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before slipping away.

I moved quickly but carefully, weaving through the clusters of guests, keeping the man in my sight. He was easy to follow, his distinctive gray suit standing out among the sea of darker colors. He glanced around occasionally, his movements tense, as if he knew he was being watched. I stayed far enough behind to avoid drawing attention, slipping into the shadows of the hallway just as he pushed through a side door.

My heart raced as I reached the door, pausing for a moment to steady my breathing. I listened carefully, the faint sound of his footsteps echoing down the corridor. I pushed the door open slowly, peeking around the corner to make sure I wasn’t walking into something dangerous.

I could see him further down, turning another corner. I followed, my footsteps light as I moved along the plush carpet that muffled the sound of my heels. The hallway opened into a small, secluded courtyard, where the man paused to pull out his phone, his back to me. He glanced around again, checking to make sure he was alone before raising the phone to his ear.

I pressed myself against the wall, straining to hear his voice.

“Yes, it’s me,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I’ve got the instructions. He wants us to move forward, no delays. The distraction at the fundraiser should buy us enough time to hit the shipments undetected too.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. A distraction? Shipments? I inched closer, my pulse pounding in my ears as I tried to catch more of the conversation.

“No, he doesn’t suspect a thing,” the man continued, his voice confident. “As long as we keep up appearances, they won’t see it coming. We’ll be in and out before they even realize what’s happening.”

I edged closer still, careful to stay hidden in the shadows. My mind was racing, trying to piece together the fragments of the conversation. If Raffaele was planning a distraction here at the ball, it meant he was willing to risk the safety of everyone inside just to achieve his goals. And the shipments he mentioned—could they be connected to Massimo’s operations? Or maybe someone else’s?

As the man hung up the phone, I quickly retreated, slipping back around the corner, and pressing myself flat against the wall. Whatever Raffaele was planning, it was big.

I needed to tell Massimo everything I heard. Right away.

I waited until the man had left the courtyard, heading back toward the ballroom, before making my way back down the hallway. My heart was still racing, the urgency of the situation crystal clear in my mind. As I stepped back into the grand ballroom, the noise and light seemed almost overwhelming after the quiet tension of the hallway.

I spotted Massimo immediately, still deep in conversation, but his eyes found mine the moment I entered the room. He raised an eyebrow, and I quickly crossed the room to his side.

“We need to talk,” I whispered urgently, my voice barely audible over the music and chatter. “It’s about Raffaele. He’s planning something.”

Massimo’s expression immediately darkened, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the urgency in my tone. He nodded curtly, excusing himself from the conversation he’d been engaged in. Without another word, he took my arm, his grip firm and protective as he guided me through the crowded ballroom, navigating swiftly past clusters of guests and waitstaff.

“Where are we going?” I asked, keeping my voice low, glancing around to see if anyone was paying us too much attention.

“Somewhere we can talk without prying eyes,” Massimo said, his voice edged with stiffness. He led me through a side door that opened into a long corridor lined with intricate wood paneling. The noise from the ballroom faded into the background as we continued down the hall, the quiet clicking of our footsteps echoing off the walls.

At the end of the corridor, Massimo pushed open a heavy oak door, revealing a small, private lounge. It was elegantly furnished, with plush armchairs and a dark mahogany bar stocked with expensive liquors. Massimo checked the room quickly before closing the door behind us, shutting out the rest of the world.

“We’re safe here,” he said, his voice steady but laced with the intensity that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface.He turned to me, his gaze searching my face. “Now tell me everything.”

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. “I overhead Raffaele talking to a man, and I followed him,” I began, my voice quiet but firm.


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