The restaurant was dimly lit, the golden glow of the chandeliers casting warm pools of light over polished tables set with fine china and crystal glasses. It was an exclusive establishment—one where power whispered between courses, where alliances were sealed over glasses of wine, and where only the most dangerous men and women dined.
Valeria had chosen this place for a reason. It was a neutral ground, a setting where chance meetings felt less like schemes and more like fate.
She sat at a table near the grand floor-to-ceiling windows, sipping on a glass of deep red wine, her lips painted the same seductive shade. The dress she wore tonight was a striking black, silky and fitted, the neckline plunging just enough to tease. The fabric clung to her curves, highlighting every dangerous detail of her body. A high slit on the side revealed glimpses of smooth, toned thigh whenever she crossed her legs, the movement intentional, measured.
Her dark hair cascaded down her back in soft, glossy waves, a few strands framing her face with effortless seduction. The dim lighting caught on the sharp curve of her cheekbones, the smoky liner around her dark eyes making them look even more hypnotic.
She was halfway through her wine when a familiar presence washed over her.
Adrian.
She didn't have to look up to know it was him. She could feel him—his presence was that potent, that magnetic.
Still, she lifted her gaze slowly, meeting those icy blue eyes that seemed to strip her bare even from across the room. He stood at the entrance, sharp in a tailored black suit, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders and tapering perfectly at his waist. His stance was casual yet commanding, exuding the kind of quiet authority that made people nervous.
A smirk touched his lips as he approached, his steps unhurried, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Didn't take you for a stalker, printessa," Adrian drawled, his voice smooth as he pulled out the chair opposite her without asking.
Valeria raised a brow, swirling her wine. "Funny, I was about to say the same about you."
He leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the table. "Then tell me, Valeria, what exactly are you doing here?"
She took a slow sip before answering, letting the tension stretch between them. "I could ask you the same thing. But I suppose it's just…fate."
His smirk deepened, but there was something else behind it—something sharp, calculating. "Fate," he repeated, amusement laced with suspicion. "What a convenient word."
Valeria set her glass down, tilting her head. "Why? Don't believe in it?"
Adrian's fingers tapped idly against the table. "I believe in choices. And I believe you didn't just end up here by accident."
She leaned in slightly, just enough to let him catch a whiff of her perfume—something dark, rich, and entirely intoxicating. "If I wanted to follow you, Adrian, you'd never even know it."
His jaw tightened just slightly, the way it always did when she pushed him.
Then, suddenly, he changed course.
"You talk like someone who's used to getting away with things." His voice dropped a notch, smooth and knowing. "Tell me, what kind of trouble have you gotten into before?"
Valeria smiled, unbothered by the shift in conversation. He was testing her, prodding for cracks.
She leaned back, feigning thoughtfulness. "Oh, the usual. Breaking hearts, bending rules, keeping men on their toes."
Adrian chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "You dodge questions well."
She lifted her glass again. "I answer the ones worth answering."
His eyes darkened, a slow, smoldering thing that sent a heat down her spine. "And what makes a question worth answering, printessa?"
She smirked, placing her wineglass down with deliberate ease. "One that doesn't come from a man trying too hard to figure me out."
Adrian exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. "You're impossible."
"And yet," she mused, "you keep coming back for more."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them wasn't loud—it was quiet, simmering, a game played in shadows and stolen glances.
Adrian's gaze flickered down, just briefly, to her lips.
Valeria noticed.
Good.
She let the silence stretch a moment longer before tilting her head. "What's wrong, Mr. DeLuca? You look…intrigued."
He exhaled through his nose, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "You're trouble, Valeria."
She leaned in again, voice dropping to a whisper meant just for him. "And you love it."
His grip tightened slightly on his glass, the tension in his shoulders betraying the control he so carefully held onto.
Before he could respond, the waiter arrived with a fresh bottle of wine.
Adrian sat back, watching her closely as the waiter poured them both another glass.
Valeria lifted her glass and clinked it against his. "To fate," she said, her voice silk.
Adrian's gaze held hers for a long moment before he murmured, "To dangerous games."
They drank, the air between them charged, thick with something unspoken.
Minutes passed like that—talking, teasing, playing their game.
But then Valeria glanced at her phone, a tiny flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. She had what she needed from this meeting. And she refused to let Adrian be the one to walk away first.
With a slow, deliberate movement, she rose from her chair, running her hands down her hips as she reached for her purse.
Adrian watched her stand, his gaze dark, assessing. "Leaving already?"
She smiled, reaching out to run a single finger along the rim of her glass before turning away. "I think I've gotten what I came for."
He leaned back, his expression unreadable. "And what exactly was that?"
Valeria turned slightly, meeting his gaze one last time. Her lips curled, her eyes gleaming with wicked amusement.
"I guess you'll never know."
And with that, she walked away, feeling his gaze burning into her back the entire time.
She had left on her terms.
But as she stepped outside into the cool night air, the thrill of the game still humming inside her, one thought lingered in her mind.
Adrian was becoming harder and harder to walk away from.
And that was dangerous.