Chapter 3 — Glass Roses
1564 Words
Alessia
The Moretti estate was built for spectacle.
Columns of white marble, chandeliers dripping with crystal, the kind of luxury that made silence feel expensive. Every year, their masquerade gala filled the mansion with faces too beautiful to trust — politicians, merchants, criminals in velvet suits pretending to be saints.
Tonight, I was one of them.
The mask was gold and delicate, shaped like a butterfly. It covered half my face — enough to make me a stranger in my enemy’s house. My dress clung to me like a secret, black silk catching the light as I stepped into the ballroom.
I told myself I was here for information — to find out who ordered the hit at the cathedral.
But when I caught a flash of dark eyes across the room, my pulse betrayed me.
Dante Moretti.
He stood near the grand staircase, wearing a black mask that left his mouth uncovered — the same mouth that had kissed my hand, the same voice that had haunted me for nights.
Our eyes met once, and that was enough.
He knew. Somehow, he always knew.
I turned away, trying to focus on the glittering chaos around me — music swelling, people laughing too loudly, champagne glinting like gold. But his presence followed me like gravity.
I didn’t see him again until I felt him.
Dante
I should have known she’d come.
The gala wasn’t just a party — it was a stage, and Alessia Toricceli had always been a performer of control. But control cracked when her eyes met mine.
She wore a mask, but I would’ve recognized that heartbeat anywhere.
The room might have been full of strangers, but she was the only real thing in it.
I waited until the orchestra shifted into a waltz before approaching her.
When I reached her, she didn’t turn. She just said, “You shouldn’t be on your feet, Moretti.”
“Doctor’s orders are boring,” I murmured. “Yours aren’t.”
She faced me then, her mask glittering like temptation itself.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Enjoying the view.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
The waltz deepened, and I offered my hand. “Dance with me.”
Her hesitation was almost invisible — the smallest pause, the faintest breath — but I saw it. Then she placed her hand in mine.
Alessia
Every rule I’d ever learned shattered the moment his hand touched mine.
It was warm, steady, unhurried — the kind of touch that made danger feel like safety. The crowd melted away as we moved onto the floor.
The music rose, violins twisting into something almost mournful. Hands on my waist he guided me through the steps, each motion precise, deliberate. He didn’t look at anyone else.
“You shouldn’t recognize me,” I whispered.
He smiled. “You could wear ten masks, and I’d still know the way you breathe.”
“That’s not possible.”
He leaned closer, his voice low. “Then why are you trembling?”
I hated that he was right. My heart had its own rhythm — one that didn’t belong to me anymore.
“You shouldn’t talk to me like this,” I said.
“How should I talk to you, Alessia?”
“Like an enemy.”
“Enemies don’t dance this well.”
Dante
She was flawless, every movement a test of willpower. I could feel the heat of her body through the thin space between us, the scent of her perfume sharp and sweet, like the edge of a blade wrapped in roses.
People were watching, pretending not to, but neither of us cared.
Her mask caught the light, and I caught myself imagining what it would be like to remove it — to see every emotion she was hiding.
I bent close enough for my words to touch her ear.
“You move like you were made for me.”
She exhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away. “Don’t say things you can’t afford.”
“Who said I can’t afford them?”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“Then burn with me.”
For one dangerous second, she did.
Alessia
His hand pressed lightly at my back, guiding me through the spin. Every motion felt choreographed by fate — two people trapped between loyalty and desire.
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered.
“Because I can’t stop,” he said simply.
The honesty in his tone scared me more than any threat ever could.
I had come here to gather intelligence, to spy, to play my role. But somewhere between his hand and my heartbeat, the lines blurred.
When the music softened, he didn’t let go. Instead, he led me toward the terrace — empty, quiet, washed in moonlight.
Outside, the night air was cool against my skin. The city glittered below like a field of dying stars.
“You shouldn’t have followed me,” I said.
“I didn’t follow you,” he replied. “You led me here.”
Dante
Her mask reflected the moonlight, half hiding her, half revealing her.
I wanted to tell her that the sight of her here — in my house, in my world — felt like something between prophecy and madness.
Instead, I said, “You came looking for something tonight. Did you find it?”
“Maybe.”
“And what was it?”
She met my eyes. “A reason not to kill you.”
That should have made me laugh. It didn’t.
“Did you find one?” I asked.
Her silence was an answer.
I stepped closer, close enough to see the pulse in her throat. She didn’t move away.
“Tell me to stop,” I said quietly.
She didn’t.
So I reached up and brushed my fingers along the edge of her mask.
It was enough — that single touch, that breath between us — to feel the world tilt.
Alessia
If he took off the mask, everything would change.
My father would call it betrayal. My family would call it treason.
But when Dante looked at me, none of that mattered.
He wasn’t the enemy anymore — he was just a man standing too close, speaking too softly.
“Don’t,” I whispered, but it came out as a plea, not a command.
He paused, his fingers still against the gold edge. “Why not?”
“Because if you see me, you’ll never forget.”
“Good.”
The mask loosened, sliding off. The night breathed in with us.
He saw me — truly saw me — and something unspoken passed between us.
Not victory. Not surrender.
Recognition.
Dante
I’d seen beauty before, but never like this — never wrapped in danger, never with eyes that looked like they were fighting themselves.
“Now what?” she asked softly.
“Now,” I said, “we stop pretending we’re strangers.”
The words hovered between us, heavy and fragile.
When I reached for her hand again, she didn’t resist. Our fingers interlocked — not as enemies, not as heirs, but as something neither of us could name.
The music from the ballroom drifted through the open doors — soft, distant, a song for ghosts.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered.
“Neither should you.”
“Then why are we?”
“Because blood remembers what the heart forgets.”
Alessia
The next second he yanked me closer to himself, looking into my eyes yet slowly bending down down to my height….he took my lips in his and f**k! His lips fitted mine perfectly
His lips brushed mine hard and with a tinge of possessiveness, he pulled me in by my waist.
Fully in the mood, I moved my hands around his broad, strong shoulders kissing him back but hell did he dominate the kiss, his tongue lashing out against mine. Now his hands were roaming my ass as he sucked my lips and carefully reaching his left hands toward my boobs……
Somewhere inside, the clock struck midnight.
The moment shattered — reality spilling back like cold water.
I stepped away, fast, the air suddenly heavy with everything unsaid.
“This doesn’t happen again,” I said.
He smiled faintly, but his eyes were serious. “You sure about that?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Instead, I slipped the mask back on, turned, and walked into the noise of the ballroom — back into the lie, the dance, the war we were both born into.
But as I reached the stairs, I heard him behind me, his voice low, meant only for me.
“You move like you were made for me.”
And for the first time, I didn’t deny it.
Dante
She disappeared into the crowd, a shadow swallowed by gold light and music.
But I knew this wasn’t the end.
You don’t waltz with a storm and walk away unchanged.
As the orchestra swelled again, I stood alone on the terrace, her perfume still clinging to the air.
The night wind whispered through the glass roses decorating the railings — fragile, perfect, and sharp enough to bleed.
And I thought, not for the first time:
In this life, love and death share a bed.
Maybe tonight, they had just danced.
- Writer
