"Luna, I have a date today," Aurora says suddenly while preparing an order.
Luna freezes, holding a tray mid-air. "Girl, you what? My girl grew up so much and I didn't even notice!"
She turns with a teasing grin. "Wait—wait a damn minute. You're telling me now? Who's the lucky girl trying to steal my girl away from me?"
"Dio Barone."
"I've heard that name…" Luna's voice trails off, her eyes widening. "Wait. That rich guy? The one we saw two days ago? The grumpy one with a face like carved marble?"
Aurora chuckles lightly, brushing flour from her fingers. "Mm-hmm."
"Girl, you pulled wild four," Luna mutters, shaking her head.
Aurora returns home early, but her mind isn't on clothes or makeup. It's on messages.
Dio: Be ready.
She skipped over it, scrolling as if searching for something else.And then, there it was:
The Truth: A date, hmm. Interesting. You may go.
A soft smile bloomed on her lips. Permission. It always felt like getting approval.Something she needs, even though she never.
She stands before the mirror. Her brown eyes are quiet, centered—like the universe revolves in their calm.Her black hair waves softly, as though evening winds are brushing through it even indoors. She wears a black, high-slit velvet gown, the kind that clings like dusk, flowing with grace yet whispering of danger. A touch of rose on her lips. Subtle makeup. A scent of jasmine laced with something darker. She looks like a hymn written for the end of the world.
Aurora steps out. Her phone lights up again.
Dio: I'm in the waiting area.
He stands beside a black car, dressed in a crisp white silk shirt, its collar open just enough to reveal a glimpse of his collarbone. The sleeves are rolled slightly, revealing his forearms—sculpted, veined, somewhat strong. He wears black tailored trousers, sleek and precise, and dark shoes that reflect the dim lighting of the parking lot. In his hands: a bouquet of Belladonna and black tulips—Strange, but strangely beautiful.Unusual. Poisonous. Beautiful.
"You look beautiful," he says, handing her the bouquet. His voice is formal, but his eyes burn like a secret.
"Thank you," she replies softly. "You look… handsome too."
He opens the door. She slides in. The silence is velvet, filled with unspoken things. Her eyes drift to his hands—how they command the wheel with easy control. Veins like maps, knuckles like warning signs.
Her phone buzzes once more.
The Truth: Just don't let your guard down.
Aurora straightens. Her poise returns like a blade re-sheathing itself.
Dio's voice breaks through the silence. "Puoi fissarli, se ti piace."
(Translation : you can stare them, if you like it)
"What?"
"I said… there's quite a lot of traffic," he replies, smirking slightly.
Aurora looks out the window, hiding a smile.
"Is that how you flirt in Italian?"
He turns to her briefly. "It's how I haunt."