The ballroom glittered with gold and crystal, the chatter of billionaires weaving through the air like silk. Aria Bellamy's eyes scanned the room, but she barely noticed the extravagance—until she saw him. Luca Moretti. Tall, impossibly handsome, with a confidence that made the room feel smaller, he was the kind of man stories whispered about. Her heart stuttered, betraying her before her mind could protest. She shouldn't feel this way. Not for him. The name Moretti was poison, a reminder of a rivalry older than she could remember. And yet, as his gaze flicked toward her, sharp and assessing, she couldn't stop the warmth blooming inside her. She had fallen in love at first sight, and now she hated herself for it. Forcing a smile, she turned toward her family, determined to remind herself that some things like love were never hers to have. The music swelled, violins spiraling through the glittering hall. Aria forced herself to laugh at a dull joke from her cousin, but her gaze kept drifting back to him. Luca Moretti stood among a circle of men twice his age, every gesture precise, every word commanding their respect. He didn't look her way again. Not once. And that hurt more than it should. She hated the way her stomach tightened, the way her thoughts tangled every time she caught the sound of his smooth voice, controlled, dangerous. How could someone be so untouchable and yet draw her in like gravity itself? "Aria," her mother murmured at her side, fingers brushing her arm. "Smile. The Morreties are watching." Obediently, she lifted her chin, slipping on the Bellamy mask of effortless charm. Inside, though, her heart was in chaos. Because every time she glanced across the ballroom, she hoped foolishly that Luca would finally look at her. He never did. Aria reminded herself of the truth. He is a Moretti. A rival. The enemy. But the more she repeated it, the more it sounded like a lie. So she smiled wider, laughed louder, and hid the storm no one else could see.Just as she forced another hollow laugh, a sudden hush rippled through the crowd. Aria's heart leapt before she even knew why. She turned and froze.
Luca Moretti was no longer across the ballroom.
He was walking toward her.
Each step deliberate. Each gaze that followed him bending away, giving him a path as though the entire room belonged to him. The chandeliers above seemed to flicker with his presence, shadows stretching long and heavy across the marble floor.
Her breath caught, her pulse hammering against her ribs as if trying to break free. Every instinct screamed at her to look away, to hide behind her family's polished mask. And yet, she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't stop watching.
He didn't glance at anyone else. Not at the billionaires craning their necks, not at the women whispering his name like a prayer. His eyes cold, unreadable, dangerous, were locked on hers.
And in that dizzying, impossible moment, Aria realized the truth:
Hating him would be easy.
But resisting him? That might destroy her completely.