Part 2

The ballroom at the Beaumont Hotel pulsed with laughter and crystal clinks, but for Luca Moretti and me, time had stopped.

I had just watched Ethan walk away, and Luca’s jaw was tight enough to crack. The way he had nearly touched my waist earlier—then pulled back—had left me breathless. Now, those same eyes were burning into mine like he was trying to decide whether to kiss me right here or burn the entire room down.

“You never said everyone else had to believe I belonged to you,” I repeated, voice low so only he could hear.

Luca didn’t smile. He never smiled when he was strong. “I didn’t want you to think I was making a claim. This is one night. After that, it’s back to you being my secretary and me being your boss. No strings. No expectations.”

But the way his eyes lingered on my lips said otherwise.

“Fine,” I whispered. “One night. Then we go back to normal.”

He gave a single nod, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

The night, however, had other plans.

Halfway through dinner, Ethan appeared at my side with that easy charm that made my skin tingle.

“Still dancing after this?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

Luca’s hand landed on the small of my back with deliberate possession, warm and heavy.

“Not tonight.”

Ethan’s smile didn’t falter. “Heard you two make a good show, though. Gossip columns will eat this up.”

I felt Luca’s fingers tighten on my dress, just a fraction.

I turned to him, voice low. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m protecting you,” he said, so quietly I almost missed it.

Before I could answer, Luca’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then his body went rigid.

“Excuse me,” he said, heading toward the terrace doors.

I didn’t wait. I followed.

Outside, the night air was cool. Manhattan glittered below us, but Luca was watching Ethan through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Ethan was laughing with women, but his eyes kept drifting back toward us.

Luca’s voice was ice. “He’s been circling you all night.”

“He’s just being friendly,” I said. “You told me I could answer when people asked.”

Luca turned. The moonlight carved shadows under his cheekbones. “I know.”

He took one step closer. Then another. The lights cast gold across his face, making him look almost vulnerable.

“I never expected you to look this good,” he said, voice rough.

I swallowed. “You expected me to hate me by now?”

Luca’s hand rose slowly, hovering an inch from my cheek. Not touching. Just close.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted. “The pretending. The belonging.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Then stop pretending right now.”

For one heartbeat, the air crackled.

Then Luca pulled back, jaw tight.

“I’m not the man who keeps what’s not mine,” he said. “Even for one night.”

He turned away, heading inside.

I stayed on the terrace, fingers pressed against the stone railing, the city lights blurring through my eyes.

One night.

But the way he had looked at me when he said it felt like the beginning of something neither of us could undo.

And I, for the first time in my life, wasn’t sure I wanted to.