Chapter 3
1423 Words
Serena
What should I do?
That was the only thought running through my mind as Alessandro Moretti stood in front of me like he owned the oxygen between us.
Father never told me to interact with him.
In fact, Bianca had warned me.
Very clearly.
Avoid Alessandro. Don’t speak to him. Don’t smile at him. Don’t give him a reason to notice you.
She had plans. Everyone knew it.
Rumors had been circling for weeks that my father was negotiating an arranged marriage between Bianca and the Moretti heir.
A powerful alliance. A strategic move. And Bianca wanted it. Not for love.
For status. For dominance.
For the crown that came with his name.
I swallowed and lowered my gaze slightly.
The safest move was retreat.
So I gave him the smallest polite nod — then turned and walked away.
Slowly.
Gracefully.
Like I hadn’t just felt my pulse spike under his stare.
I expected him to let it go.
Men like him didn’t chase.
They summoned, they had ladies lining up for them especially for someone who look this good.
But then—
I heard Footsteps, Measured and Unhurried Behind me.
“Are you seriously ignoring me?”
His voice was smooth, edged with amusement.
I didn’t turn around.
I kept walking.
He let out a soft, low laugh.
“Well,” he added, “this is a first.”
Of course it was.
Women probably threw themselves at him.
I found my father near the center of the ballroom and moved closer quickly.
“Dad,” I whispered urgently.
He didn’t look at me at first. “Yes?”
“I met Alessandro.”
That got his attention.
His head snapped slightly in my direction.
“And?”
“He’s following me.”
My father’s posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. He turned his head casually like he was simply scanning the room.
Alessandro was leaning against a marble column across the hall.
Watching.
Not hiding it.
Just watching us.
My father turned back to me, voice low.
“Do nothing reckless. We need him for an alliance.”
My heart dropped slightly.
Alliance.
So the rumors were true.
“Did he see your face clearly?” my father asked.
“Just briefly.”
A calculating look crossed his features.
I suddenly had the strange feeling my father was thinking far beyond what I understood.
He placed a firm hand on my lower back and gently steered me away.
“Go engage with Ivan Petrov’s son,” he instructed quietly. “Now.”
I stiffened.
I didn’t want to.
But when I glanced toward the Petrovs — I saw my father’s intent.
The Russian syndicate.
The rumored “Vikings.”
Powerful. Strategic. Resource-rich.
If you had Russians backing you, failure wasn’t an option.
And if the Morettis were paired with the Russians—
That would make an empire untouchable.
Was my father trying to secure both?
My stomach twisted.
I forced myself to approach the young man standing near the champagne table.
He turned when he sensed me.
And smiled.
A real smile.
“Hi,” I said politely. “I’m Serena.”
His eyes softened instantly. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
It was strange. There was no hunger in his gaze, No arrogance.
No territorial edge.
Just… warmth.
For the first time tonight, I didn’t feel assessed. I felt human.
He extended his hand. “Nikolai Petrov.”
Ah.
So this was the son.
His English carried a faint accent — subtle but charming.
“It’s strange,” he said lightly. “But I feel comfortable talking to you. Even though we just met.”
I blinked.
Then smiled.
“I was just thinking the same.”
We both laughed softly.
And just like that, conversation flowed easily.
We talked about university.
Turns out, he had attended the same college I did.
“I played lacrosse,” he said proudly.
I gasped. “I was on the cheer team.”
His eyes widened. “So you cheered for us?”
“Maybe,” I teased. “If you were winning.”
He laughed.
And it felt… normal.
Almost like we weren’t surrounded by crime lords and political sharks.
But even inside our small bubble—
I could feel it, Stares. Heavy and Calculating.
Especially one.
I refused to look in Alessandro’s direction.
Refused to acknowledge the chill sliding down my spine every time I felt his gaze settle on me.
Nikolai leaned slightly closer.
“My family is Bulgarian-Russian,” he explained casually. “Strong combination.”
“Very strong,” I agreed.
The Petrovs were known for discipline and military-style structure.
Their nickname the Vikings — wasn’t random.
They were strategic conquerors.
And rumor had it, they were already leaning toward supporting the Morettis in several business expansions.
If that alliance solidified—
It would reshape the entire underworld balance.
“I don’t think I need an introduction,” Nikolai said with a grin. “You’ve probably heard enough about me.”
“That’s true,” I admitted.
He didn’t seem offended.
We continued talking until a tall, broad-shouldered man approached.
Older. Sterner.
“Nikolai.”
“Father.”
Nikolai straightened immediately.
Mr. Petrov turned to me and smiled approvingly.
“You are De Luca’s daughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said softly, dipping into a slight curtsy out of habit.
He chuckled. “Very graceful.”
Then to his son: “Come. We need to speak.”
Nikolai gave me an apologetic smile before leaving.
And just like that—
I was alone again.
I exhaled slowly.
My cheeks hurt from smiling, None of it felt real.
It felt like theater.
And I was playing a role I didn’t fully understand, That’s when I sensed someone approaching.
This time it wasn’t calm.
It was sharp.
Confident and Possessive.
I turned slightly.
A woman stood before me.
Tall. Blonde. Flawlessly dressed.
Her expression screamed challenge.
“Hey,” she said sweetly. “Wanna dance?”
I hesitated.
But refusing publicly might cause unnecessary drama.
“Sure,” I replied lightly.
She grabbed my hand without waiting and pulled me toward the dance floor.
The music shifted into something rhythmic and bold.
We began moving among the other dancers.
Her grip tightened slightly.
“Do you know Nikolai Petrov?” she asked casually.
“No,” I replied. “We just met.”
She smiled.
Good.
“Because I like him.”
There it was.
“And I don’t care about any alliance,” she continued smoothly. “He’s mine.”
I blinked.
Then smiled politely.
“Well,” I said evenly, “you should probably tell him that first.”
Her eyes narrowed.
If looks could kill—
I would have been dead on that marble floor.
“I’m not interested in him,” I added calmly. “We were just talking.”
She studied my face, searching for deceit.
Eventually, her shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Fine.”
We danced another awkward minute before I gently pulled away.
“Can I go now?”
She forced a stiff smile. “Sure.”
I stepped off the dance floor, pulse slightly elevated.
I hadn’t done anything.
Yet somehow—
Enemies were already forming.
I exhaled.
And that’s when I made the mistake.
I finally looked toward the marble column.
Alessandro was no longer leaning.
He was standing upright now.
No smile, No amusement, Just cold observation.
His jaw was tight.
His gaze was unreadable.
But something had shifted, something darker.
His eyes tracked me as I moved.
I didn’t feel like prey.
I felt claimed.
Not publicly.
Not verbally. Cant explain it but there’s a weird charge between us.
But in that silent, dangerous way men like him operated.
My breath hitched slightly.
Why did it feel like I had just unknowingly stepped into a territory dispute?
Why did it feel like every conversation I had tonight was being recorded in his mind?
Analyzed. Stored. Judged.
I wrapped my arms around myself subtly, trying to shake off the tension.
This was supposed to be a ball, an appearance. Nothing more.
But under the glittering lights and elegant gowns—
War was being negotiated.
Alliances were forming.
Territories were being claimed.
And somewhere between Nikolai’s warm smile and that blonde girl’s warning, I had become part of the strategy.
I just didn’t know whose.
Across the room—
Alessandro finally moved.
And this time—
He wasn’t walking away.
- Writer
