The night pressed against the Moretti estate like a velvet curtain, heavy with secrets. The chandeliers in the grand hall glimmered, throwing fractured light across marble floors that had seen too much blood. To anyone on the outside, the gala was a display of wealth and power. To those inside, it was a battlefield wrapped in silk and champagne.
Adriana stood near the edge of the room, her gown a sleek shadow of midnight, shoulders straight, chin raised. She had been trained for this posture—grace under scrutiny, poise under fire—but her heart betrayed her with its uneven rhythm. Every time her eyes betrayed her and drifted toward Damian, the world tilted.
He was across the room, a wolf among wolves. The cut of his black suit made him seem even taller, broader, more dangerous than he alr
