Her Love Is My Weakness

First-Encounter

A group of men entered the room with quiet authority. They moved like they owned the surrounding air.

But one man stood out.

Alessandro De Luca.

He was tall. Taller than most men in the room and built in a way that spoke of controlled strength rather than showy muscle. Broad shoulders filled out his dark suit effortlessly, the fabric sitting perfectly on him as if it had been tailored around his body rather than the other way around. He carried himself with an ease that suggested he was used to being obeyed.

His face was sharp, with clear lines that made him look almost unreal in the club’s dim lights. He had a strong jaw with a bit of stubble, making him look serious, like he hardly ever smiled. When he did smile, it wasn’t friendly. It felt dangerous. His deep, smooth voice carried a weight of authority that sent chills through the air, and he moved with a predator's grace, every step deliberate and unhurried. The subtle hint of his cologne lingered in the air, a mix of sandalwood and something more unsettling, cutting through the smoke-filled club, leaving an impression that was both intoxicating and disconcerting.

His eyes were what unsettled Elena the most.

“Do you know that man over there?” Emily, Elena’s co-worker, asked, noticing Elena’s gaze was fixed.

“No…why do you ask?” Elena replied.

“Oh, nothing. Just… be careful around him,” Emily said, walking away to serve a guest who had just arrived.

Elena tried to steal one more glance at him and froze. He was staring at her, expressionless. She quickly bent her head down to avoid eye contact, but immediately a voice cut through the music.

“Hey!

Elena looked up. He was watching her.

“Me?” she said, pointing at herself, glancing nervously.

“Are you deaf or blind? Get your silly ass here!” one of his men barked.

Elena hesitated and then went over to their table. The music thumped louder, but all she could do was focus on him. He didn’t look away, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips, making her skin crawl.

“Looks like someone just started working here,” he said, his men laughing behind him.

Elena felt irritation creeping up under her skin, mixed with a surge of defiance.

“What do you want…sir?” she asked, her voice tight.

The man didn’t answer immediately. His gaze traveled slowly over her, deliberate and assessing, before his lips curved in a way that made her skin prickle.

“Our table is empty,” he said flatly.

“What would you like to drink?” Elena asked, keeping her voice even.

“Our usual,” he said, crossed his legs, and rested his arms on the sofa.

Elena stared at him, confusion mixing sharply with irritation.

“And what exactly is your usual, if I may ask?” she said, her voice edged with restraint.

He was getting under her skin, the pressure inside her chest building as she fought the urge to snap.

Elena straightened her shoulders, forcing a breath through her nose. She had survived worse days than this. Worse people, too. One arrogant man in a dark suit wasn’t going to be the reason she lost her job on her first night.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, already turning toward the bar before he could respond.

She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away.

“VIP table?” the bartender asked quietly, already reaching for a clean glass.

Elena nodded. “They asked for their usual.’

The bartender’s hand paused midair.

He looked up at her, eyes flicking briefly towards the lounge before returning to her face. “Did they say that exactly?”

“Yes,” she replied, frowning. “Why?”

A flicker of something—wariness, perhaps, crossed his expression. “Just…take this,” he said, selecting a bottle from the top shelf and placing it on a tray with some glasses. “And don’t keep them waiting.”

Elena didn’t like the tune of that last part, but she took the tray anyway, balancing it carefully as she headed back towards the VIP section.

The men were lounging exactly where she had left them, spread out across the sofas like predators at ease. One of them laughed softly as she approached, murmuring something under his breath that earned him a sharp glance from Alessandro.

The man whose eyes found her again.

She stopped in front of him, lowering the tray. Up close, his presence felt heavier, more like suffocating, almost. He smelled faintly of expensive cologne and something sharper beneath it, something that didn’t belong in a club.

She reached for the glass, and his hand shot out before she could fully lift it.

“Careful,” he said, his voice low and measured, each word deliberate. His fingers brushed hers for just a second, and a shiver ran through hers. “Wouldn’t want you to spill anything… on me.”

Elena’s stomach knotted. She pulled the glass back slightly, setting it down on the tray with exaggerated precision. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing her voice steady.

He leaned back, eyes never leaving hers, and smiled—not warmth, not friendliness, but a spike. “Good,” he murmured. “I like confidence. Shows character.”

She wanted to look away, to escape the weight of his gaze, but she couldn’t. Something in the way he studied her—the way his presence seemed to command the room—kept her rooted in place.

One of his men chuckled quietly, breaking the spell, and Alessandro’s eyes flicked to them before returning to her. That smile lingered. Sharp. Dangerous.

“Leave it there,” he said finally, gesturing to the glass with the barest nod. “And… don’t disappear on me.”

Elena nodded, swallowing hard, backing away just enough to feel in control of her body. Her heart hammered in her chest, her hands trembling slightly even as she tried to steady the tray.

She took a steadying breath and forced herself to focus on the drinks, counting each movement, each step, each hand placement. She had handled difficult customers before, but nothing like this. Nothing like him.

And yet, she felt a pull she couldn’t name. A mixture of fear and fascination, like a storm waiting just beneath the calm. She hated that she felt it, hated that her heart raced when all it should have done was serve a drink and leave.

She straightened her shoulders again, forcing her hands steady. One step at a time. One glass at a time. She would survive this. She had to.

But the truth she refused to admit even to herself whispered in the back of her mind: surviving him might be harder than surviving anything else in this room.

Elena had just turned to place a glass on the table when a sharp, unwanted tap landed on her lower back. Reflexively, she spun around and slapped him hard across the face.

Silence.

The slap echoed in the room, and for a heartbeat, no one breathed. Alessandro’s hand went to his cheek, stunned, his eyes flashing first with surprise, then with a storm of anger. Around them, the men froze, jaws tightening, eyes wide.

Elena’s own heart hammered in her chest, her mind catching up to what her body had just done. I….actually slapped him.

One of his men moved instinctively, stepping towards her, “Hey…”

But Alessandro’s hand shot out, stopping him mid-step. “No,” he said, low, controlled, but every inch of his body radiated power.

Before Elena could react, he closed the distance. So close that she could feel the heat of his breath, the faint scent of expensive cologne mixing with something sharper. His eyes bored into hers, a storm of fury and fascination flickering behind the dark irises.

“You,” he said, his voice low, dangerous, and oddly amused all at once. “Do you know what you just did?”

Elena’s throat went dry. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Words failed her.

He leaned in slightly, the tension almost unbearable. “Bold… reckless… and entirely unexpected,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her, sharp and assessing. “I have to admit…” his lips curved ever so slightly, just enough to unsettle her. “I’m intrigued.”

Elena swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her mind screamed run, her body screamed stay, and yet she couldn’t look away.

The room was utterly still, the music reduced to a dull hum in the background, as if the club itself had paused to watch this storm of audacity collide with power.

“Don’t touch me again,” Elena said, swallowing.

A murmur rippled through the men behind him.

Alessandro’s eyes narrowed slightly. He studied her as if she were an anomaly, something unexpected, something that didn’t quite fit into his world.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” he asked.

“No,” Elena replied, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. “And I don’t care.”

That earned her a reaction.

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips, not amused, not pleased, but intrigued.

“You really have a death wish, don’t you?” he said, leaning just a fraction closer. “Most people would already be apologizing by now.”

She could feel the heat of him, the weight of his presence pressing in from all sides. Her legs threatened to give out, but she held her ground.

“I won’t apologize for defending myself,” she said.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

His gaze remained locked on Elena, unreadable, as if he was deciding something far more important than words. His lips parted slightly, as though he was about to speak…

Then the VIP lounge door creaked open.

The shift in the room was immediate.