The villa's party had stretched into the early hours, music blending with the soft crashing of waves below the cliffs. Alessia had stepped away from the crowd, needing a moment of air—and a moment of clarity.
She hadn't expected to find Luca leaning casually against the balcony railing, his silhouette sharp against the moonlit water.
"Thinking too hard?" he asked, his voice low, carrying just enough amusement to make her pulse quicken.
"Always," she admitted, smiling faintly. "Especially when there's someone around trying to annoy me for sport."
He followed her gaze. Sure enough, Bianca was laughing a little too loudly, draping herself around Luca's associate Matteo, twirling her sparkling dress and tossing her hair like she owned the night.
Luca's jaw tightened imperceptibly. Alessia noticed immediately.
"She's… persistent," Alessia said, a teasing edge in her voice.
"She's… irritating," Luca corrected, voice clipped. Then, softer, almost admiring: "But I admire your patience with her."
Alessia tilted her head. "You think I should punch her?"
He smirked. "Tempting. But I'd rather you save your strength for… someone who matters."
Her heart skipped. The way he said it—it wasn't just playful. It was… personal.
Before she could reply, Bianca sauntered onto the terrace, lips curved in that irritating, practiced smile.
"Luca," she purred, "I thought I'd find you here alone. This party is… so much better with you at my side."
Alessia didn't flinch. She stepped closer, matching Bianca's smile with one sharper and colder.
"I think Luca is perfectly capable of choosing who he wants to spend time with," she said, her tone polite but unyielding.
Bianca laughed, tilting her head like Alessia was cute for trying. "Oh, Alessia… so confident. But confidence isn't everything, is it?"
Alessia felt a flare of annoyance—but she refused to rise to Bianca's bait. Instead, she glanced at Luca. His dark eyes were locked on her, unflinching. Protective. Curious. Something deeper simmering beneath the surface.
"Alessia," Luca said smoothly, "why don't we step over here?" He gestured toward a shadowed corner of the terrace, away from the crowd.
Bianca's smirk faltered. "Leaving me already?" she said, her tone forced.
"You're exhausted," Luca replied, voice steady. "Let her rest her energy."
Alessia's pulse raced—not from fear, but from the electricity between them. She followed him into the quiet, and the sound of the party faded into a soft hum behind them.
"I don't usually let people push me around," Alessia admitted quietly.
"You shouldn't," Luca said, voice barely above the whisper of the waves. "And yet… seeing you stand your ground… it makes me want to protect you, even when you don't need it."
Alessia swallowed. "You're dangerous, Luca. Don't pretend… I could get caught up in that."
His gaze softened, the edge of his usual coldness melting just enough. "I'm already dangerous. But not with you. With you, I… want to be careful. Careful enough not to scare you away."
Her breath caught. She didn't know whether to pull back or lean in closer. The temptation to step closer, to feel his presence fully, was almost unbearable.
"I… don't know if I can…" she whispered.
"You don't have to," he murmured, lifting a hand but stopping inches from her cheek. "We'll go slow. But being near you… it's impossible to ignore."
Alessia's chest tightened. She realized the danger wasn't just Bianca, or Luca's world. The danger was wanting him, feeling the pull between them, and knowing she could lose herself in it if she let him.
Behind them, Bianca's frustrated laugh echoed faintly from the other side of the terrace. Alessia felt a surge of pride. She didn't need to compete with her. She didn't need validation. She had Luca's attention—on her terms.
And that was far more intoxicating than any glittering gown or arrogant smile.
For the first time that night, Alessia allowed herself to lean just a little closer, letting the tension between them thrum like a slow, dangerous heartbeat.
The summer wasn't just about sun, sea, and freedom anymore. It was about desire. Control. And a man who made her want both—and resist both—at the same time