The glass doors to De Luca’s penthouse slid open with a soft hiss, spilling Ariella into the opulent silence that smelled faintly of leather and cedar. The night outside clung to her skin like a second layer, heavy with the weight of what had happened at the gala, the scandalous whispers, Davien’s smirk, and Elian’s steely hand pressing into the small of her back as if anchoring her in a storm.
But it wasn’t the gala replaying in her head. It was the words. “Your father’s blood is on the De Luca name.”
That sentence had dug into her like a shard of broken glass. And now, as she dropped her clutch on the marble counter, her legs threatening to fold beneath her, she finally let her breath shudder out.
Elian was already loosening his tie across the room, the golden city lights behind him s
