That evening, the Virelli mansion was alive again.
A celebratory dinner had been arranged in Sophia's honor. The long dining table shimmered under warm lighting, set with polished silverware and crystal glasses. Everyone was present—Vittorio at the head, Isabella beside him, Valentina chatting softly, and the brothers exchanging low, amused comments.
Sophia sat quietly, trying to focus on the conversation, on the comfort of familiarity. Trying hard not to think about the incident earlier but totally failing because her cheeks were still peach red. And she remembered bumping into Victor while running away from Luca and he asked her if she was okay to which she quickly nodded and fled to her room.
Then the doors opened.
And the room shifted.
Luca walked in last.
Dressed in black, composed, and unreadable—he didn't rush, didn't acknowledge the room immediately. His presence alone was enough. Conversations faltered, tension creeping into the air like something unseen but undeniable.
Everyone felt it.
Because everyone knew.
Luca and Sophia had never gotten along.
Sophia lowered her gaze instinctively as he took his seat. She told herself to breathe, to act normal—but the moment dinner began, she felt it.
His eyes.
On her.
Not briefly. Not casually.
Lingering.
Her delicate fingers were at the edge of her dress, as if it could shield her from his predatory gaze. Her chest rose and fell unevenly betraying the turmoil raging inside her. She refused to meet his eyes and that made him smirk to curl at the edge of his lips.
For the first time in Lucas' life, he found himself mesmerized by a woman who wasn't even trying to tempt him.
"She has no idea how breathtaking she is, does she" he thought.
He leaned back on his chair swirling the glass of whiskey and ice in his hands still watching her with the heat of the kiss still lingering on his lips. He wondered if she still felt his lips on her. And even though he knew it was a mistake he couldn't bring himself to regret it even if he wanted to.
Across the dining table, Sophia couldn't stay any longer because of how uncomfortable she was after the incident earlier so she quickly excused herself "I—excuse me," she said softly, standing before anyone could question her.
No one stopped her.
Sophia didn't run—but she didn't slow down either.
She made her way through the halls, her heartbeat loud in her ears, her thoughts scattered. The moment she reached her room, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling shakily.
"What is wrong with me…" she whispered.
But she already knew.
It wasn't her.
It was him.
Back in the dining room, Luca remained seated.
Calm. Unbothered.
As if nothing had happened.
But his gaze had shifted—no longer on the table, no longer on the conversation.
Gone distant. Calculating.
He waited.
Minutes passed.
Then, without drawing attention, he rose quietly from his seat.
No one questioned him.
No one ever did.
Sophia needed space.
Needed air.
Needed to get him out of her head.
So she did the only thing she could think of—she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the sound of running water fill the silence.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the zipper of her dress, her thoughts still tangled, her pulse still unsteady.
She hadn't heard the door.
Hadn't sensed it.
Until—
A presence.
Heavy. Silent.
Familiar.
Her breath caught.
Slowly, she turned.
And there he was.
Luca stood just inside the room, the door already closed behind him. His expression was unreadable. His gaze was fixed entirely on her.
Not cold.
Not distant.
Something darker.
Something far more dangerous.
The air shifted instantly—tight, charged, suffocating.
Sophia's heart slammed against her ribs.
"Luca…" she whispered, barely finding her voice.
He didn't respond immediately.
He simply looked at her.
As if seeing her for the first time.
As if deciding something.
And whatever it was…
It made it impossible for her to breathe.