The ballroom glittered under a thousand golden lights, the kind of event where power dressed itself in elegance. The air smelled of expensive perfume and quiet deception — exactly the kind of place Alessia Romano belonged, and hated.
She moved through the crowd in a deep red gown, every step graceful and deliberate, her presence impossible to ignore. The heads that turned didn't faze her. She was used to attention. What unsettled her tonight was the unease in her chest — the feeling of being watched.
Her father had insisted she attend, saying it would strengthen ties with other business families. But when she saw him across the room, Alessia's breath caught for just a second.
Tall. Sharp. Composed. His dark eyes caught the light like polished obsidian — steady, unreadable. Lorenzo De Luca. The name alone carried weight, whispered through boardrooms and back corridors. Son of Marco Vitale — the very man threatening her family's empire.
Their gazes met, briefly, and for a moment it felt like time hesitated.
He smiled — slow, knowing — and raised his glass slightly in silent acknowledgment. Alessia didn't return it. Instead, she turned back toward her table, her pulse unsteady for reasons she couldn't explain.
"Careful, Alessia," her father murmured from beside her. "That's Marco's son. Keep your distance."
"I know who he is," she replied, tone even, eyes never leaving her glass. But inside, she was curious — too curious.
Later that night, as she stepped out onto the balcony to breathe, she sensed someone behind her.
"You don't seem like someone who enjoys crowded rooms," a deep voice said.
She turned slowly. Lorenzo stood a few feet away, his tuxedo impeccable, his expression relaxed but careful.
"I don't enjoy pointless conversations either," she replied coolly.
He chuckled softly. "Then I'll make mine worth your time."
The tension between them thickened — not hostility exactly, but something sharper, something electric.
For the first time that night, Alessia looked directly at him — really looked. The way his gaze followed her movements, the quiet confidence in his tone. There was something strangely familiar in his energy — like she had felt him before, in another form.
But she pushed the thought away.
"I don't mix business with charm," she said, turning toward the balcony rail.
"Who said anything about business?" he replied, stepping closer — not enough to touch, but enough for her to feel his presence.
For a heartbeat, their eyes locked again. There was danger in his gaze, and yet… something warm.
Alessia drew in a slow breath, steadying herself. "Enjoy your evening, Mr. De Luca," she said finally, slipping past him and walking back into the ballroom.