1. The Wrong Party
988 Words
Monaco was a different beast at night. It shimmered like it knew it was expensive. Sienna Vale was
walking across the marina walkway adjusting her camera bag on her shoulder, all the while trying
not to stare at the yachts bobbing in the dark water. The entire place screamed wealth and it was
somewhere that Sienna normally avoided.
"Out of the way, darling!" A woman dripping in diamonds clipped Sienna's shoulder with a silver
purse before disappearing into a crowd of designer dresses.
Her editor at Noir Magazine, Theo, had asked her to photograph a fashion show at the Monte Carlo
Bay Hotel and while it wasn't glamorous work—half the job was pretending influencers were
important—it just about paid enough to cover rent on her apartment. The event had finished but Theo had begged her to get "a few atmospheric marina shots" before
going home.
Which was why she was wandering through Monaco at midnight in boots that were slowly
murdering her feet.
She lifted her camera and took photos of harbor lights reflecting against the water. It was a
gorgeous photo. At the edge of the photo, a yacht was just out of focus. White and huge. Music
spilled from the upper level while guests danced beneath the low lights. Models, actors, rich
strangers all drinking champagne like water. Theo had mentioned an afterparty aboard a yacht
called Euphoria. Maybe this was it.
No one stopped her stepping aboard which was typical. If you looked confident enough, everyone
assumed you belonged. The second she stepped inside however, she regretted it. Everything
screamed private. Not influencer-event private. Billionaire private. Crystal chandeliers reflected
across polished floors while waiters carried champagne through crowds dressed in couture.
She should leave.
Instead, she lifted her camera instinctively. Candids were her weakness. Genuine
moments hidden beneath luxury fascinated her, which is why her 3 month stay in Monaco had
stretched to almost 12 months. A couple laughing beside the railing. A woman kicking off her heels
beneath a table. A bored man scrolling through his phone. People were the same everywhere. Just
dressed more expensively here.
"Nice camera." The deep male voice behind her nearly made her drop it.
Sienna turned sharply. Tall, dark messy hair, broad shoulders draped in a black button-down shirt
open at the collar and an expensive watch glinting beneath the cuff.
He was unfairly handsome in a dangerous sort of way—the kind of face tabloids probably loved, or
loved to hate.
"You own this boat?" she asked.
His mouth tilted. "Unfortunately."
That explained the confidence.
"Look, I thought this was connected to the fashion launch down the harbor."
"And now?"
"Now I realize I accidentally wandered into a billionaire cult meeting."
A surprised laugh escaped him.
"You always insult strangers?" he asked.
"Only the obscenely wealthy ones."
His gaze drifted slowly over her face, lingering long enough to make heat crawl up her neck.
"You're staring."
"You're beautiful."
The response came instantly. Smooth. Effortless. And somehow, while her traitorous cheeks pinked
with a blush, that irritated her more.
She rolled her eyes. "Do lines like that actually work on women?"
"Usually."
"Tragic."
Another laugh. He was definitely not offended. A waiter passed carrying champagne flutes, and the
man grabbed two before offering one to her.
"I don't accept drinks from strangers."
"Luca Moretti," he said calmly.
The name hit instantly. He was a Monaco billionaire, investor, playboy, tabloid disaster.
"Oh," she said flatly.
His eyebrow lifted. "That bad?"
"You're the fountain scandal guy."
Now he looked amused. "That's what you know me for?"
"You dated a supermodel and crashed a Ferrari into a fountain."
"It was barely a crash."
"You said that publicly."
"I had excellent lawyers."
Sienna scoffed before she could stop herself. Luca watched her carefully then, fascinated by the fact she wasn't impressed.
"You're not impressed by any of this?" he asked, gesturing around the yacht.
She barely glanced at the glittering lights and designer gowns.
"I mean... the boat's nice."
"That sounded painful for you to admit."
"You have no idea."
A smile tugged at her mouth before she could stop it. Unfortunately, his smile did terrible things to
her composure.
"You still haven't told me your name," he said.
"Sienna."
He repeated it slower. "You belong to the fashion event?"
"I photographed it for Noir Magazine."
"Photographer." His eyes flicked toward her camera. "That explains why you've been watching everyone like a scientist observing rich people in captivity."
"Because that's exactly what this is."
Luca leaned slightly closer. Close enough for her to catch the scent of expensive cologne and
whiskey.
"Tell me honestly, Sienna." His voice lowered. "Did you really wander onto this yacht accidentally?"
"Yes," she said firmly.
A slow grin spread across his face. "That's disappointing."
Before she could answer, a woman in a silver dress stormed toward Luca speaking furious Italian.
Luca sighed. "And there goes my peaceful evening."
The woman noticed Sienna instantly. Her expression sharpened.
"Another one?" she snapped.
Sienna nearly choked. "Absolutely not."
Luca looked entertained again. The woman muttered something else before stalking away
dramatically.
"Should I ask?" Sienna said.
"I wouldn't advise it."
Wind swept across the marina, lifting strands of Sienna's hair. Luca watched her for a long second.
The atmosphere shifted. Quieter. Heavier.
"You should leave before the tabloids decide you're my latest bad decision," Luca said softly.
That surprised her.
"You're kicking me out?"
"I'm protecting your innocence."
She laughed lightly. "You assume I'm innocent."
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
"Trust me," he murmured, "you don't want your name linked to mine."
The honesty in that should have felt arrogant. Instead, it felt dangerous. Sienna stepped backward.
Luca's eyes never left hers.
"Well," she said, adjusting her camera strap, "thanks for not having security throw me overboard."
She started to turn away. Luca's grin returned slowly.
"Where are you going, wrong party girl?"
- Writer
