Hannah's Chance
Copyright© 2025 by jackmarlowe
Chapter 4
Il Club Delle Maschere had resumed its normal rhythm, with the dance troupe having disappeared, the soft jazz music returning and the masked guests once again huddling into their conversations. The atmosphere seemed different though, more charged than before as the dance performance had left its indelible mark on the club and everyone in it.
Hannah and Maria both felt the air crackle, thick with unspoken possibilities. They moved through the crowd, their masks granting them freedom as they navigated the velvet-draped shadows. Near the bar, a woman in a peacock-feather headdress laughed, the sound rich and knowing, while two men debated sovereign bonds in hushed, urgent tones.
“Are you buying or selling?” The voice, low and amused, came from Hannah’s right. She turned to find a man in a simple porcelain mask, his lips curved in a knowing smile, holding three glasses of champagne. “You two look like you’re strategizing a hostile takeover,” he added, offering one glass to her and one to Maria.
Maria accepted hers with a graceful nod. “Just appreciating the ... ambience,” she deflected smoothly.
“Ambience is currency here,” he said. “It reveals more than names ever could.” He raised his glass. “To profitable revelations.”
Hannah took a measured sip, the champagne bubbles sharp against her resolve. “We’re assessing where value lies when masks obscure the players,” she replied, her gaze sweeping the room.
The porcelain-masked man chuckled, a dry, papery sound. “Clever. But you still haven’t told me if you’re buying or selling. In this place, everyone is either buying or selling. The trick is knowing which one you are.”
Maria tilted her head, studying him through her mask. “And which are you?”
The porcelain mask gleamed as he took a sip, his smile never wavering. “Tonight?” He let the pause linger just a beat too long. “That depends on who’s asking.”
Hannah’s gaze drifted past him, scanning the crowd near the grand piano where the scarab-masked man had vanished. The air still hummed with the dancers’ energy, a restless undercurrent beneath the jazz. She needed to stay sharp, she had important work to do later.
Maria decided to seize the moment. “I represent a boutique bank,” she said. “Mergers and acquisitions.”
The porcelain-masked man nodded thoughtfully. “A crowded space. What makes your approach unique?”
Maria leaned in slightly, her voice a low murmur. “We specialize in hostile takeovers disguised as rescue missions. Leveraging overlooked vulnerabilities.” She didn’t elaborate, letting the implication hang like smoke.
The man nodded sharply. “Ruthless. I like it.” He set his empty glass on a passing tray. “Perhaps we’ll circle back. Enjoy the hunt.” He melted into the throng near the bar, leaving them in a pocket of sudden quiet.
“For a moment, I thought I’d got a useful contact there,” said Maria.
Hannah shook her head. “He was just playing games. I wonder how many people here are just doing the same?” She scanned the room again, seeing masks glittering under candlelight, heads bent close in whispers, laughter spilling in sudden bursts. She wondered which conversations were genuine and which were performances. The masks made it hard to tell.
She was still scanning the room when a new voice slipped into their space, smooth and deliberate. “Two beautiful brunettes standing alone. I must be the luckiest man in Milan.” Hannah turned to find a tall man stood before them, dressed in a midnight blue suit with a sleek, minimalist matching blue mask.
“Allow me to solve that problem,” he continued, gesturing towards a secluded velvet booth. “I’m Alessandro Rossi. And you’ve just made my evening infinitely more interesting.” His Italian accent was smooth as aged whiskey.
Maria’s gold mask tilted in assessment. “We’re not looking for entertainment, signore.”
“Then let’s discuss what you are looking for,” Rossi countered. “I might turn out to be an ally who can help you negotiate this masquerade.” He gestured again toward the booth. “Join me.”
Rossi’s confidence was magnetic and Maria was won over. She looked at Hannah who nodded and they followed him into the plush shadows of the booth.
Rossi leaned forward, elbows resting on the low table between them. “You’re new here,” he began without preamble, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “The first thing any newcomer needs to learn is that everyone here is playing a game.”
“I’d already decided that some people here are playing games,” said Hannah.
“Of course they’re playing games,” Rossi said. “They all are. But the best players never let you know which game it is.” He paused, letting the club’s murmur fill the silence.
“Are you one of those best players?” asked Hannah.
Rossi smiled. “You’ll have to find that out, but at least I’ve given you my name. Perhaps you could do the same?”
Hannah hesitated. Giving her name felt like peeling back her mask, exposing herself in this den of anonymity. But Rossi’s directness demanded reciprocity. “Hannah,” she said, keeping it clipped. Beside her, Maria remained silent, her gold filigree mask unreadable.
Rossi’s eyes crinkled behind the blue silk. “Hannah. A name with strength.” He leaned closer, the scent of bergamot and leather cutting through the club’s haze. “Now, why are you truly here? Not for the champagne or the dancers, I think. You hunt bigger game.”
Maria shifted imperceptibly. “We seek partnerships,” she offered smoothly. “Strategic ones.”
Rossi traced the rim of his untouched champagne flute. “I didn’t catch your name.”
Maria’s mask tilted fractionally. “Maria.”
“Maria,” Rossi echoed, tasting the name. His gaze flicked between them. “Strategic partnerships is a little vague. Tell me what your exact business is here and I might be able to help.” He leaned back, spreading his hands.
Maria decided to trust Rossi, reasoning that she had nothing to lose. “I represent a boutique bank. Mergers and acquisitions. If you know anyone looking to buy a business, that would help me.”
Rossi nodded thoughtfully. “And your business is the same?” he asked Hannah, his gaze sharpening.
“No,” Hannah replied, keeping her tone neutral. “I’m focused on investment strategy. Handling major portfolios.” She watched Rossi’s reaction carefully, his fingers stilled on the champagne flute, a subtle tell.
Maria smoothly redirected. “Signor Rossi, you mentioned allies earlier. What connections might benefit us?”
Rossi leaned back, fingers steepled. “I specialize in discreet introductions.” His gaze lingered on Hannah. “For instance, someone in my inner circle is actively seeking aggressive portfolio restructuring. Exactly your domain.” He paused, letting the implication sink in. “I could arrange a meeting. Provided...” His voice trailed off meaningfully.
Hannah felt the trap tighten. “Provided what?” she pressed, her knuckles whitening on her clutch. Maria’s stillness beside her was unnerving.
Rossi’s smile widened, predatory. “A gesture of commitment. A small fee, perhaps.” He slid a discreet card across the velvet tablecloth. No name, only a Swiss account number. “Consider it an investment in our ... mutual benefit.” His eyes flicked to Hannah’s, letting the image hang. “Or,” he added softly, “you could offer something more personal. A private demonstration of your ... strategic capabilities.” His gaze lingered on the plunging neckline of her gown.
Hannah’s pulse hammered against her ribs. The scarab-masked man’s midnight meeting loomed, but Rossi’s proposition reeked of opportunism. Maria’s hand brushed hers under the table, a silent warning. Hannah kept her voice cool, detached. “We’ll consider the fee.” She pocketed the card without glancing at it. “But introductions first. Proof of your influence.”
Rossi’s smile tightened. “Cautious. I admire that.” He signaled a server, ordering another bottle of champagne. “The investor is Swiss, someone I know very well. He’s here tonight.”
Maria leaned forward. “Describe him.”
Rossi gestured subtly toward a secluded alcove where a man in a silver fox mask nursed a cognac. “Private equity,” he murmured. “Currently dismantling a biotech firm. Needs aggressive repositioning.” His eyes locked onto Hannah. “Sound familiar?”
Hannah’s breath caught. Tanaka’s failing biotech subsidiary and the scarab-masked man’s challenge both echoed in Rossi’s words. Coincidence felt unlikely. This had to be a different biotech, but she wondered what Rossi knew about Tanaka and her dealings with them.
Maria’s grip tightened on her champagne flute. “Introduce us,” she demanded, voice low and edged.
“He’s busy right now,” said Rossi, gesturing toward the man, who was indeed deep in conversation. “But I’d be delighted to do it later. In fact you might find the introduction very useful yourself.”
Maria’s eyes narrowed behind her mask. “Why?”
“Because you could find a buyer for him. Convince him that he doesn’t need to dismantle the business, as with your firm’s contacts you can sell it for him as a going concern.”
Hannah watched Rossi’s gaze switch from Maria’s masked face to her plunging neckline. The proposition felt too convenient, too neatly aligned with Tanaka’s situation. She kept her voice steady. “And what’s your stake in this?”
Rossi spread his hands. “A broker’s fee. Standard.” He paused, eyes gleaming behind blue silk. “But I’d prefer ... alternative compensation.” His fingertip traced the condensation on his glass, lingering suggestively.
Hannah met his gaze, the champagne bubbles sharp on her tongue. Midnight at the fountain loomed, but Rossi’s Swiss connection was too tantalizing to ignore. “Introduce us first,” she countered, her voice cool steel. “Then we discuss terms.”
Rossi’s smile tightened fractionally. “Direct.” He glanced toward the alcove. “As soon as I can I will.”
Maria’s gaze remained fixed on the silver-fox-masked investor. “We’ll wait.” Her tone left no room for negotiation. Rossi inclined his head, a silent concession, before rising to weave through the crowd toward the alcove.
Hannah watched him go, the champagne flute cold in her hand. “I don’t know what to make of this,” she murmured. “That Swiss connection reeks of Tanaka’s biotech mess.”
Maria nodded slowly, her gold mask catching the candlelight. “Maybe he’s just hoaxing us. But for now let’s play along.”
Hannah scanned the alcove where Rossi now leaned close to the silver-fox-masked investor, their heads bent in urgent conversation. She noted the investor’s stiff posture, the dismissive flick of his wrist. Rossi’s shoulders tensed visibly before he turned back toward them, his blue mask failing to hide the tightness around his mouth.
He slid back into the booth, champagne flute abandoned. “He’s ... preoccupied,” Rossi admitted, the smooth charm replaced by brittle irritation. “Claims he has an offer for the business already. But,” he leaned forward conspiratorially, “he’s meeting the buyer here tonight. So we might find out for sure one way or the other.”
“Who’s the buyer?” Maria pressed, her voice low.
Rossi shrugged, a calculated gesture. “He wouldn’t say.”
Hannah’s gaze sharpened. “Convenient.” Rossi’s web felt sticky, deliberate. She leaned in, her voice slicing through the club’s murmur. “Then why should we trust your introduction holds value?”
Rossi’s mask tilted, shadows deepening the hollows of his cheeks. “It’ll hold value for you regardless, because he’s going to have money to invest whatever happens. Perhaps not for Maria, if his prospective sale gets the go ahead tonight.”
Rossi leaned closer, his bergamot scent sharpening. “He’ll have fresh capital to deploy. Aggressive repositioning requires aggressive strategy.” His gaze locked onto Hannah. “That’s where you shine, isn’t it?”
Hannah met his stare. “If he’s liquidating assets, he’ll seek high-yield opportunities. Not cautious plays.”
“Exactly,” Rossi breathed, triumph flickering in his eyes. “He’ll need someone bold. Someone willing to ... maneuver creatively.” His fingertip traced the velvet edge of the table, drifting toward her hand. “Someone like you.”
Hannah pulled her hand away, the movement sharp. “Creative maneuvering has boundaries.”
Rossi’s chuckle was low, velvet-wrapped steel. “Boundaries exist to be tested.” He glanced toward the alcove again. The silver-fox-masked investor was rising, scanning the room with predatory focus. “Watch. His buyer arrives.”
A figure emerged from the shadowed colonnade, unmistakeable in his distinctive scarab mask. Hannah froze. The scarab-masked man moved with predatory grace toward the silver-fox investor, their handshake brief and efficient. Rossi’s triumphant whisper cut through her shock: “See? The buyer arrives.” Maria’s sharp intake of breath mirrored Hannah’s own realization, that this surely wasn’t a coincidence. Rossi had known Tanaka’s broker would be here.
The scarab-masked man’s gaze swept past the investor, locking onto Hannah across the crowded room. His head tilted slightly, a silent acknowledgment that chilled her. She watched as the silver-fox investor handed him a sleek tablet, the glow illuminating the scarab motif on his mask. Rossi leaned close, his whisper hot against Hannah’s ear. “He’s validating the offer right now. They aren’t wasting any time.”
Hannah’s eyes remained on the scarab-masked man as he nodded curtly at the tablet’s contents. Rossi’s fingers brushed her shoulder, his eyes raking over her body. “I hope you’re ready for your opportunity,” he murmured.
The scarab-masked man got up abruptly, leaving the silver-fox investor sitting alone as he vanished into the shadows. Rossi’s fingers tightened on Hannah’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said.
Hannah shook him off. “There isn’t time right now,” she said, looking at her watch and seeing it was close to midnight. “I’ve got an appointment to keep.”
Rossi’s head tilted, the faintest pause before his lips curved in a slow smile. “An appointment,” he echoed, savoring the word. “How rare, in a place where most people let time dissolve.”
Hannah stood, the velvet booth suddenly stifling. “It’s important.” Her gaze darted in the direction of the fountain, almost hidden behind the colonnade. Maria rose beside her, a silent pillar of support.
Rossi’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes hardened. “Of course. I’m sure my beautiful brunettes wouldn’t desert me without good reason. But remember,” he said, getting to his feet, his voice dropping to a whisper, “the man you’re going to meet may hold the keys to a kingdom, but I hold the keys to many kingdoms.”
Hannah didn’t reply. She turned, Maria falling into step beside her as they navigated the crowd. Passing beyond the colonnade, the stark obsidian fountain loomed ahead, its soft splashing a counterpoint to the club’s low thrum. Hannah’s heels clicked on the marble floor, each step echoing her racing thoughts. The scarab-masked man’s appearance with the silver-fox investor wasn’t coincidence; it was a power play. He’d seen her with Rossi. He knew she was scrambling for business.
Midnight chimed, a single resonant note from a hidden bell. The scarab-masked man materialized from the shadows beside the fountain, his presence imposing even in stillness. “Punctual,” he observed, his voice devoid of warmth. “I trust your conversation with Signor Rossi was ... productive?”
Hannah forced calm into her voice. “He offered introductions. To a Swiss investor liquidating biotech assets.” She watched his masked face, searching for a reaction. “You seemed familiar with that portfolio.”
The scarab mask tilted slightly. “I’m familiar with many things. As for Rossi, he enjoys fishing, dangling bait he knows will be snatched.” He stepped closer, the fountain’s mist cooling Hannah’s skin. “Your model’s proof. Let’s not bother with previews. Having thought it over, previews are for common folk. When can you give me a live demonstration?”
Hannah had put the time since their earlier conversation to good use and in her mind had already addressed the issue of how quickly Alex could get her prepared, taking into account the time difference. “Would 6 PM be convenient?”
The scarab mask gave a curt nod. “Acceptable. I’ll send the details.” She gave him her business card, which he glanced at briefly before pocketing it. He didn’t offer her one in return.
“Until six,” he said. “By the way, be wary of your admirer. He collects women like trophies.” Before Hannah could respond, he melted back into the shadows, leaving the two women alone with the fountain’s whisper.
Maria exhaled sharply. “He knows Rossi. He knows Silver Fox. He knows Tanaka. Now he’s getting to know you.”
Hannah stared at the spot where the scarab mask had vanished, her fingers tracing the damp edge of the fountain. “Maybe he set this whole thing up. That Swiss investor, Rossi’s approach, perhaps it was all a way of making him seem powerful.” The chill in her bones had nothing to do with the mist.
Maria’s gold mask glinted as she shook her head. “Possible. But the Tanaka connection is real. He demanded proof by six. That’s your focus.” She paused, her gaze sharpening. “Though I wonder why he warned you about Rossi. Divide and conquer?”