Chapter 2 - The Alliance
The ballroom seemed to hold its breath as Nico Rossi closed the distance between us.
Up close, Liam’s father was even more intimidating than I remembered. He had the kind of silver-flecked dark hair and sharp, aristocratic features that demanded absolute authority. He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, and the sheer gravitational pull of his presence made the other wealthy guests instinctively step out of his way.
He stopped inches from me. His dark eyes swept over the red dress, an unreadable, intense heat flashing in his gaze before he met my eyes.
"Luna," his voice was a deep, resonant rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "You look breathtaking."
"Mr. Rossi," I managed to say, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
"Nico," he corrected smoothly. He glanced over my shoulder, his sharp eyes locking onto the table where his son and my sister were sitting. Even from thirty feet away, I could see the panic draining the color from Liam's face.
Nico looked back at me. He didn't ask questions. He didn't need to. A man who had built a billion-dollar empire from nothing was not blind to the terrified posture of his son or the smug, ill-fitting triumph on my sister's face.
"My son is a fool," Nico stated calmly. "I always knew he lacked judgment, but I did not realize he was entirely blind."
"They were together last night," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "In my apartment."
Nico’s jaw tightened. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees, a lethal coldness settling over his features.
"I came here to make a point," I confessed, suddenly feeling very small in the grand ballroom. "I was going to ask you for a favor, but—"
"You don't need a favor, Luna," Nico interrupted softly, extending his arm toward me. "You need a weapon. And I am entirely at your disposal."
May you like
I stared at his offered arm, the sheer magnitude of what we were about to do sinking in. With a deep breath, I slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow.
"Shall we?" Nico murmured.
