Monaco, Evening.
The lights of the Vexley estate were looking as shiny as ever. The sea behind the house was quiet, but everyone else inside was loud. Expensive suits, bright gowns, flashing cameras. This was not just another night; it was the night the world would see the suture of two powerful empires.
Lucia Moretti stood near the entrance, hands cold against her silk dress. Everyone around her smiled, but she couldn't feel anything. She hated nights like this; she hated how everything looked perfect when clearly nothing was. The pretense and ignorance being displayed pissed her off.
Across the room, Damien Vexley raised a glass. He was dressed in a black suit that fit him too well. His face didn't move, not even when people touched his shoulder and whispered whatever was for his eyes only. He had been training to smile on nights like this, but he didn't need to. His silence was enough.
Their eyes met. Just for a second.
Her heart skipped a bit. She forced herself to look away.
Lucia's mother, Bianca, walked towards her with that cold, soft smile she always wore. "Fix your face, Lucia. This is not the night for nerves."
Lucia straightened her back. "I'm fine."
"No," Bianca whispered, "you are pretending to be fine. Pretend better"
She turned and walked away, as if she owned the place. In a way, she did.
The sound of music filled the hall. The Morettis had money, but the Vexleys had history.
Everyone here understood that. This night was supposed to be both.
"Lucia."
She turned. Marco, her brother, stood behind her with a glass in his hand and a lazy grin. He looked good, as always, but there was something in his eyes she didn't like. "You look like you want to run away."
She forced a smile. "I don't, what makes you think that?"
"You're lying," he said softly. "But it's okay. I'd run too if I were you."
"Marco," she said quietly, "not tonight, leave me alone."
He lifted his hands. "Relax. I'm just saying the truth."
The music changed. The host took the stage. People turned to face the front. A large photo of the two families flashed across the wall. The announcement had begun.
Damien walked forward with his mother and father. He was calm, like a man who already knew the ending of his story. Lucia followed Bianca. Everyone clapped. Cameras flashed.
The host smiled into the mic. "Tonight, we celebrate more than an engagement. We celebrate power. We celebrate history. The Vexleys and the Morettis, together."
Lucia's hands shook slightly as she walked up. She could feel hundreds of eyes on her. When she stood next to Damien, he leaned in, his voice low.
"Smile," he said.
"I don't want to."
"Neither do I," he replied.
She almost laughed. Almost.
The families raised their glasses. Someone shouted a toast. The crowd repeated it like a song. Champagne sparkled under the golden lights. It looked like a dream. But under the smiles, there was poison, corruption beyond corruption, greed, betrayals, and most of all, secrets people will die to protect
Near the back of the hall, Marco disappeared through a side door. No one noticed. No one except Lena Vexley. She followed him without looking back.
The speeches ended. Damien and Lucia shook hands with people they didn't like. The night dragged. Her feet ached. Then, she heard a whisper.
"She doesn't love him."
"She doesn't have to."
"It's about power."
Lucia wanted to scream. Instead, she smiled at a stranger, keeping her emotions in check and staying as calm as possible while wishing for the night to end.
Down the hall, Marco pushed open a quiet room. Lena was already there, leaning against the wall in a silver dress, looking hot and like she was waiting for something or perhaps someone. Her lips curved slightly when she saw him.
"You shouldn't be here," Marco said.
"You shouldn't have followed me either," she whispered.
He stepped closer. She didn't move away. He reached for her waist and pulled her against him. Her breath caught, but her eyes didn't leave his.
"You're dangerous," she whispered.
"And you like it," he said.
Marco pressed Lena against the wall, their bodies flush against each other. His hands roamed over her silk dress, feeling the heat of her skin beneath. "I know exactly what you want," he whispered, his lips tracing the curve of her neck.
Lena arched against him, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Then give it to me," she breathed, her voice husky with desire.
With a growl, Marco captured her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring hers as his hand slid up her thigh, pushing her dress higher. Lena moaned into his mouth, her hips grinding against his.
Breaking the kiss, Marco trailed his lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at her sensitive skin. His fingers found the lace of her panties, slipping beneath to find her wet and ready. "Fuck, you're soaked," he groaned against her ear.
Lena whimpered, her body trembling with need. "Please, Marco," she begged, her hands fumbling with his belt.
Marco didn't hesitate; he quickly lifted Lena onto a table, he freed his cock, the length of it throbbing against her hip. Positioning himself at her pussy entrance, he pushed in slowly, savoring her tight heat. Lena cried out, her legs wrapping around his waist, urging him deeper.
"Harder," she demanded, her nails digging into his back.
Marco obeyed, thrusting into her with relentless pace, each stroke hitting deeper. The sound of their frantic coupling echoed through the room, mingling with their desperate moans for about 5 minutes.
Lena's orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her muscles clenching around him. Marco followed soon after, spilling his cum deep inside her as they both rode the waves of pleasure, their bodies slick with sweat and their breaths ragged.
Collapsing against each other, they shared a lazy kiss, the tension between them finally broken. But even in the afterglow, they both knew this wasn't over. The forbidden taste of each other only left them wanting more, but they also knew they had to return before anyone noticed their sudden disappearance.
Outside, the music played louder. People danced and laughed. Nobody knew what was happening behind that door.
Back in the main hall, Damien stood on the balcony, away from the noise. The sea was dark, calm, and endless. He hated nights like this. He hated pretending.
A phone buzzed inside his pocket. He didn't look at the screen. He already knew who it was. Her.
He turned slowly, watching Lucia smile for the camera's downstairs. She looked perfect. Beautiful. Strong. But he knew the truth. She didn't want this any more than he did.
And still, tomorrow, they would sign their lives away.
A soft voice cut through the air. "You look like a man who's about to burn the world."
Damien turned. His ex-lover, Elise, stood in the shadows. She wore black. Her eyes carried everything she never said out loud.
His chest tightened. He hadn't expected to see her here. He shouldn't have.
She smiled. "Miss me?"
He didn't answer.
Lucia turned her head just in time to see Damien walking away from the crowd. His shoulders were stiff. His phone is still in his hand.
Something in her chest shifted. She didn't know what it was, but it didn't feel good.
The night was almost over, but something had already begun.
Cliffhanger: She followed him.