THE D'ARGENTO SECRETS

THE STRANGER AT THE GALA The Astor family’s annual gala was nothing more than a glorified showcase of power—an event where billionaires, politicians, and high-profile elites gathered to stroke each other’s egos. To Leonel "Leo" Astor, it was a tedious obligation, a night filled with fake smiles, business deals masked as polite conversations, and women (and men) attempting to charm their way into his bed. Dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, Leo stood near the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. His silver-gray eyes were sharp, scanning the room with practiced boredom. His father was somewhere in the crowd, undoubtedly waiting for an opportunity to introduce him to another "potential match." His mother, ever poised, had already given him a pointed look earlier in the evening—a silent demand that he at least pretend to enjoy himself. Leo exhaled through his nose. He was used to this routine. Attend, make an appearance, handle business discussions, and leave before anyone could trap him into pointless small talk. But tonight... something was different. Across the ballroom, standing near the grand staircase, was a man Leo had never seen before—or so he thought. The stranger was tall and lean, dressed in a sleek navy-blue tuxedo that complemented his sculpted frame. His dark brown hair was neatly styled, with a few rebellious strands falling over his forehead. But it was his eyes that caught Leo’s attention—striking emerald green, filled with an amusement that sent an unfamiliar unease through him. The man was looking straight at him. Leo narrowed his gaze. It wasn’t unusual for people to stare at him—he was, after all, Leonel Astor, heir to an empire and a man whose reputation preceded him. But there was something about this man that unsettled him. Then, the stranger smirked. A slow, deliberate smirk. Leo tensed. And then, as if the man had read his mind, he lifted a glass in a silent toast—to him. Something flickered at the edge of Leo’s mind. A memory. A feeling. A whisper of something long buried. Who the hell is he? Before Leo could overthink it, the man turned away and began moving through the crowd, heading towards the bar—towards him. Leo straightened, his grip tightening around his glass. The man approached with a confident, easy stride, his smirk never fading. When he finally stopped in front of him, he casually leaned against the bar, setting his glass down. "It’s been a while, Leo." Leo’s stomach dropped. The voice—familiar. The way he said his name—effortless. But Leo knew for a fact that he had never met this man in any business deal, at any elite gathering, or on any of his past conquests. "Do I know you?" Leo asked coolly, lifting an eyebrow. The man chuckled, low and smooth. "You did. Once." Leo’s gaze sharpened. Did? A slow, creeping realization crawled up his spine, clawing at a past he had long since locked away. No. It couldn't be. The man leaned in slightly, tilting his head, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Come on, Leo. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your best friend?" Leo froze. The world around him faded—conversations blurred, music dulled, the crystal chandeliers overhead casting a ghostly glow. Best friend. Only one person had ever called him that. Leo’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching at his side. His body moved before his mind could process it—his hand darting out, grabbing the man’s wrist in a firm, almost desperate grip. "...Julian?" The man—Julian West—grinned, a knowing glint in his green eyes. "There it is. I was starting to think you'd never remember me." Leo’s chest tightened. Julian. The boy he had once spent endless summers with. The one who had known him before he became the cold, ruthless man he was today. The one who had— Left. Leo’s grip unconsciously tightened around Julian’s wrist. "You disappeared." His voice was lower now, rougher, edged with something unspoken. Julian didn’t flinch. He met Leo’s stare head-on, his smirk never fading. "And now I’m back." A thousand questions burned in Leo’s mind, but before he could speak, a voice interrupted them. "Mr. West," a wealthy businessman greeted, clapping Julian on the back. "An honor to have you here tonight. Astor Conglomerate must be pleased to have such a distinguished guest!" Leo’s expression turned to stone. Mr. West? He turned sharply to Julian. Julian simply chuckled, retrieving his wrist from Leo’s grip with a smooth movement. "I see my reputation precedes me," he mused. Leo’s heart pounded. "Who the hell are you, Julian?" Julian smiled. "We’ll get to that. But for now... let’s just say I’ve done well for myself." The realization slammed into Leo like a freight train. Julian hadn’t just come back. He hadn’t just found his way into elite circles. He was one of them now. No—worse. Julian West, the boy who had once run barefoot with him through gardens, who had made pinky promises under the stars—was now a man powerful enough to stand on equal footing with him. Or maybe... even higher. Leo’s jaw tightened. His world had just shifted, and for the first time in years, he felt something unfamiliar. Not just shock. Not just anger. But something dangerously close to fear. Julian West was no longer just a childhood friend. He was a threat. THE ONE WHO LEFT, THE ONE WHO CHANGED The weight of Julian’s words still hung in the air. "And now I’m back." Leo’s grip around his whiskey glass tightened as he watched Julian effortlessly blend into the high society he once had no part in. How? How had Julian—his childhood friend, the boy who once ran through fields without a care—become this composed, sharp, untouchable figure? Leo knew power when he saw it. And Julian reeked of it. The businessman who had interrupted them continued to speak, but Leo wasn’t listening. His gaze remained locked on Julian, who—despite the obvious weight of his presence—carried himself with an ease that unnerved him. Then, Julian did something that sent a flicker of irritation through Leo. He ignored him. Turning away from Leo as if their conversation had never happened, Julian accepted a drink from a passing waiter and casually engaged in small talk with an investor nearby. Leo’s eyes darkened. A week ago, he didn’t even know Julian still existed, and now he was standing in front of him, acting as if his decade-long absence was nothing but a footnote in history. No. That won’t do. Leo downed the rest of his whiskey and strode forward, his long legs closing the distance between them in seconds. Julian barely had time to react before Leo grabbed his wrist again, this time firmly. Julian’s green eyes flickered to the grip before lifting to meet Leo’s gaze. Amusement. That was the only thing Leo saw in them. "Leo," Julian murmured, tilting his head slightly, as if entertained. "If you keep grabbing me like this, people might think you're obsessed." Leo’s jaw clenched. "We need to talk." "Do we?" "Now." Julian exhaled through his nose, smiling faintly, before taking one last sip of his drink. He placed the empty glass onto a nearby tray and turned back to Leo, lifting an eyebrow. "Alright," Julian said, voice smooth. "Lead the way."