Alessia’s Pov
The bar was alive with its usual hum of activity—glasses clinking, muted conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter from a patron. I was at the counter, polishing glasses and trying to keep my mind on anything but Luca. He’d been a thorn in my side since the day we met, and I was determined to put all thoughts of him behind me.
Marcello strode up to me, his expression sharp. "Alessia, table seven. They've been waiting too long. Get moving," he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I glanced over at the corner booth where a group of well-dressed men sat, their confident laughter cutting through the noise of the bar. I grabbed my notepad, inhaling deeply as I headed toward them.
As I approached, their conversation halted, and their piercing gazes locked on
