She Stole Our Hearts Away

"Naomi, your the only woman I've ever wanted always". Diego says with a strict desire burning in his eyes. I starred deeply into his eyes. With Ronaldo and David Marciano. I don't think we are going to have a forever. Diego places a tip of his fingers against her lips, saying that's enough," and pulled her to close to his chest. I felt something unusual, could it be love. "Naomi said". "She quickly awaked to the reality of live". "Oh no"! it's a dream she muttered. She quickly Offed her rigorous buzzing alarm, which took her out from her beautiful love story. ----------- The Florida atmosphere spoke all over the whole place in a sweet from of humour. Naomi Rossman leaned against the railing of her suit balcony, sipping a cup of vanilla creamer coffee. From twenty stories high, the city pulsed with life below, cars all along through downtown, boats cutting across the bay, people laughing in sidewalk caffes. But inside Naomi’s heart, it was quiet. Lonely. The silence of wealth was playing a deep role in her life. It had been exactly six months since the fatal crash that stole her parents, Charles and Elena Rossman, real estate magnates, philanthropists, and social legends of Florida. Overnight, Naomi, their only child, became the sole heir to the billion dollar investment. She was twenty five. Young. Smart. Rich. And left alone. Tonight, however, she had agreed to step outside the life of mourning and isolation. Her best friend Leila had insisted. “You need to live a little,” Leila had said. “Or at least live with something outside your daily life.” So Naomi let herself be dragged to Noire, Miami’s most elite rooftop lounge, private access, black marble everything, and celebrities hiding behind the tinted booths. As they arrived, heads turned. Naomi was breath taken, tall, with almond shaped hazel eyes, lush lips, and dark hair all over her backless silk gown. But it wasn’t just her beauty that made the room pause, it was the aura. Old money. Untouchable. Leila headed her toward the bar. “i will grab our table. You, get us drinks.” Naomi smiled politely, though she had no plans for either. Until she saw him. He was standing alone, dressed in black tailored shirt rolled up to the sleeves, the top two buttons undone just enough to reveal his muscles. His jaw was sharp, his eyes dark with mischief, and his presence magnetic. He wasn’t just attractive, he was dangerous in the kind of way that made good girls wonder what one night might cost them. As Naomi approached the bar, his gaze locked with hers. “You don’t belong here,” he said, voice velvet and mild. She blinked. “Excuse me?” He says. “You belong somewhere better. Somewhere real.” Naomi raised a brow. She recourse she had known the Marcianos through the press, and magazines. But haven't met them personally. “And you know that… how?” “Because I’ve been watching you since you walked in. You’re not here to be seen. You’re here to forget.” She hated that he was right. Naomi turned to the bartender, placing her order. “Two bourbon smashes, please.” The man nods. “Strong choice. You’re full of surprises.” “Only on Tuesdays,” she replied, lips curving slightly. He extended a hand. “Diego.” She hesitated, then took it. “Naomi.” No last names. No expectations. Just chemistry. They spent the next hour talking, laughing, and ignoring the stares. Diego was quiet confident, and intriguing. He didn’t ask about her money. Didn’t name drop. Didn’t care who she was only that she was there with him. When he leaned closer and whispered, “Come with me,” her heart ached. They left through a private elevator, went. down in silence, slight heat between them. His hotel suite was across the street, like the man himself. No sooner had the door closed than his lips were on hers hungry, urgent, and addictive. Naomi forgot the world already. She quickly stops Diego and heards to her suit. It was raw. Passionate. Perfect. And when she woke up the next morning she was lost in thoughts. No one. He wasn't there. Just an empty bed she was alone, lost in her thoughts from her previous day. She stared at the ceiling, stunned. It had been more than talks. She felt it, something real, something dangerous. What could it be. Naomi didn’t know his last name. Didn’t know she had just met with the son of billionaire tycoon Marcelo Marciano. Didn’t know Diego had secrets deeper than hers. ----------- Two weeks later, Naomi sat at a roundtable at the Manhattan Grand Hotel, her lawyer briefing her on a major business opportunity. Across from her sat two men, powerful, established, and both handsome. One introduced himself first. “David Marciano. Pleasure to meet you.” Naomi’s stomach reacts. The name was one she had known, and the face was. David was charming, golden skinned, with desperate blue eyes and a warm cool smile. He didn’t seem to know her. The second man extended his hand. “Ronaldo Marciano. Managing Partner of Marciano Ventures. We’re pleased at the possibility of working with Rossman Holdings.” Naomi shook his hand. He was cold, calculating. The kind of man who played chess while others played checkers. She forced a smile. “Likewise.” Marciano Ventures wanted to partner on a luxury real estate development in New York. It was a billion dollar deal. And Naomi needed allies in the city. The meeting went smoothly, but when she rose to leave, David stopped her. “Naomi,” he said softly, “I know this is sudden, but would you like to get a drink sometime?” She hesitated. “Are you flirting with a potential partner?” David hesitated. “I’m Italian. We flirt with everything.” She smiles wildly despite herself. “i will think about it.” As she stepped into the elevator, Ronaldo’s eyes followed her, calculating. Naomi didn’t know yet that both brothers would soon be competing for more than just a business deal. ----------- That night, overwhelmed by emotions she couldn’t place, Naomi entered into a hotel bar near Central Park. Dim lights. Jazz music. A single glass of wine. And David Marciano. “Fate,” he said, sliding into the seat beside her. “Or nose picking. Take your choice.” Naomi laughed. Definitely nose picking.” They drank. Talked. He made her feel alive again. And somehow, she found herself drawn to him. It was impulsive. Reckless. She knew it even as his mouth met hers. But she didn’t stop it. In the morning, as she awakes in her suit. No word from the man she previously met. Her phone buzzed before noon. Unknown Number: That was a mistake, sweetheart. You’ll come back to me. They always do. Her blood ran cold. Was it Diego? Or someone else? She hadn’t given her number out. Her past and her heart were catching up. ----------- Three days later, Naomi was standing in an office, reviewing architectural designs and dealings with Ronaldo. “You’re talented,” he said, studying her from behind his desk. “You understand more than just numbers.” “I built half my life on my father’s systems,” she replied. Ronaldo rose from his chair and approached her. “This partnership could benefit us both. But I don’t do business with people I can’t trust.” “Then don’t trust me,” she said coolly. “Trust the numbers.” He smiled. “I like you, Naomi Rossman.” She lifted her chin. “You shouldn’t.” For a moment, the room was silence. And then he stepped back. “This deal goes forward,” Ronaldo said, signing the proposal. “But know this, if you betray me, I will make you regret ever setting foot in this city.” Naomi nodded. She didn’t shake. She had secrets too. ----------- Later that evening, a black envelope arrived at Naomi’s suit in Manhattan. No return address. No sending address. Inside was a single photo. Naomi kissing affectionately behind a bar. Not Diego. David. Her heart raced. She turned the photo over. A handwritten message wrote in bold ink: "You stole more than hearts. Now it’s our turn.