The night stretched long and slow, wrapping the room in a velvet hush. The scent of whiskey, smoke, and something more electric lingered between them—an invisible current neither was willing to sever.
Adrian watched her over the rim of his glass, his gaze lazy but sharp, as if he had all the time in the world but was already a step ahead. Valeria matched his ease, though the air between them crackled with something unspoken, something dangerous.
Then, his voice, smooth and deliberate, broke the silence.
"There's a party tomorrow night. Private. Exclusive." He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, eyes hooded. "You should come."
Valeria tilted her head, studying him as if weighing the invitation in her mind. "A party?"
Adrian's lips quirked in something between amusement and challenge. "Not the kind you're thinking of."
Intrigue curled in her stomach. This wasn't just an invitation—it was a test. Another calculated move in this silent game they were playing.
She smirked, leaning forward slightly, resting her elbow on the table. "And why exactly should I say yes?"
Adrian's blue eyes darkened. "Because I want you there."
The weight of those words settled between them, thick and tangible. It wasn't a lie. She could hear it in the deliberate way he spoke, the way his fingers absently tapped against his glass, a subtle tell that his control wasn't as effortless as he made it seem.
Still, she wasn't about to make it easy for him.
"You're very good at making things sound like invitations when they're really tests," she mused, tracing the rim of her own glass with a single finger.
Adrian chuckled, the sound low and rich. "And you're very good at making things sound like games when they're really traps."
Their gazes locked, tension stretching taut between them.
Valeria let out a slow breath, the corner of her lips curving. "Then I suppose we make quite the pair, Mr. DeLuca."
His smirk deepened. "So, is that a yes?"
She let the question linger, savoring the way he was waiting for her answer, as if he already knew what she would say.
Finally, she lifted her glass in a silent toast, the amber liquid catching the low light, and murmured,
"I'll be there."
★★★
The Ivanov estate was silent in the late hour, the corridors bathed in the faint glow of golden sconces.
Valeria strode through the grand hall, her heels clicking softly against polished marble, her mind still replaying every moment of the night. Every glance Adrian had given her. Every word unspoken yet understood.
She reached her father's study, pausing briefly before pushing open the heavy double doors.
Lorenzo Ivanov sat behind his ornate mahogany desk, a crystal glass of whiskey in hand. His sharp, assessing gaze lifted to meet hers the moment she stepped inside.
Valeria closed the door behind her and walked forward with effortless poise. She had done this a hundred times before—reported her progress, detailed her next steps. But something about tonight felt different.
"He invited me to a private gathering," she said simply. "Personally."
Lorenzo set his glass down, his fingers tapping idly against the side. "A private gathering," he echoed, his expression unreadable. "And you accepted?"
A slow smirk curled her lips. "Of course."
Her father exhaled, considering this, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That means he's intrigued."
"Oh, he's more than intrigued," she said, her tone laced with quiet confidence.
Lorenzo held her gaze, studying her like a chessboard, searching for weak points. "But not enough."
Valeria's smirk remained, but inwardly, she felt the shift—the ever-present weight of expectation pressing down on her.
Lorenzo leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, his voice dropping into something cool and firm. "He's testing you, figlia mia. Watching. Calculating. If you want him to trust you, you'll have to give him more."
Valeria didn't waver. "I know what I'm doing."
Her father's smirk was slow, edged with something dark and knowing. "Do you?"
Silence stretched between them, thick and loaded.
She refused to blink first.
Then, with quiet conviction, she stepped closer, resting her hands on the desk as she met his gaze head-on. "By the end of this, Adrian DeLuca will trust me enough to hand me his empire."
Lorenzo's sharp gaze flickered with something unreadable before he let out a slow, amused chuckle.
He picked up his whiskey, took a deliberate sip, then murmured,
"Good girl"
★★★
The city glittered outside the towering glass windows of her suite, the skyline a sea of lights stretching far beyond the horizon.
Valeria stood before her vast closet, the doors wide open, an array of dresses hanging in perfect rows. Each piece was a weapon—a different kind of armor designed for seduction, for power, for control.
Tonight, she needed something that would remind Adrian DeLuca exactly who he was playing with.
Her fingers brushed over velvet and lace before pausing on a deep crimson gown. The fabric was cool and smooth beneath her fingertips, the color rich like blood spilled under moonlight.
A slit that promised temptation.
A neckline that was a whisper of sin.
She smirked, stepping back, tilting her head as she imagined the moment Adrian laid eyes on her.
Let him test her. Let him try to unravel her.
By the end of the night, he would be the one left undone.