Chapter 3 His True Self

Elena had barely settled her breathing when the knock came.

She was still smoothing the front of her dress, trying to make herself smaller in a space that was never meant for her. The memory of Lorenzo behind her-his damp hair, the heat of his body, the way his presence had filled the room-clung to her like a second skin.

The door opened, and a man stepped inside with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly where he stood in the world.

He held out an envelope.

Lorenzo emerged from the inner room, fastening the cuff of his shirt, his expression unreadable. "That will be all," he said coolly.

Elena hadn't meant to step forward-but she did. Just one step. Enough for the man's eyes to flick toward her, assessing, curious.

She shrank instantly.

Lorenzo's hand closed around the envelope. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, firm, grounding. A subtle gesture-yet it sent a jolt through her chest.

The letter was an invitation. Formal. Polite. Carefully worded.

A peace gathering. A show of civility between rival families. A public truce dressed up as champagne and music.

Lorenzo read it once. Then again.

A slow smile touched his mouth-not warm, not kind.

"Get dressed," he said to Elena, already turning away. "We're attending."

The dress he chose for her was not extravagant.

That surprised her.

Emerald silk, soft and flowing, fitted just enough to trace her shape without announcing it. The neckline was modest. The sleeves sheer. Elegant without being loud.

She stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl looking back. Her hair was pinned loosely, curls escaping at her neck. Her skin glowed faintly under the lights.

"You're shaking," Lorenzo observed from behind her.

She nodded, unable to lie.

He stepped closer. Not touching. Just close enough that she felt the heat of him, smelled his cologne-dark, subtle, dangerous.

"Good," he murmured. "It means you're paying attention."

Her throat tightened. She didn't know what that meant, and she was afraid to ask.

When they arrived, the gala unfolded like something unreal-crystal chandeliers, polished marble, laughter that didn't quite reach anyone's eyes.

Lorenzo's hand rested at the small of her back as he guided her inside. Not possessive. Not gentle.

Certain.

"Stay here," he said quietly, positioning her near the grand staircase. "I won't be far."

Then he was gone-swallowed by men in tailored suits and careful smiles.

Elena stood alone.

She clasped her hands together, watching the room like a frightened bird. She had never been this visible before. Never been surrounded by so many people and felt so utterly unseen.

That was when a man approached her.

He was handsome in a polished way. Confident. Smiling too easily.

"Hello," he said. "I don't believe we've met."

Her pulse spiked. "I- I'm just waiting for-"

"For him?" the man guessed, glancing toward the crowd. "You shouldn't wait alone."

She didn't know how to refuse without sounding rude. Her upbringing had taught her silence, compliance, softness.

"I'm fine," she whispered.

The man smiled wider. "Allow me to-"

The room shifted.

The air changed.

Elena felt it before she saw him.

Lorenzo stood behind the man.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't rush.

"Step away," Lorenzo said calmly.

The man laughed nervously. "I was just being polite."

Lorenzo's gaze flicked to Elena-just once. Quick. Assessing.

Then it returned to the man.

What happened next was swift. Brutal. Silent.

A flash of movement. A sharp sound.

The man collapsed.

Screams erupted. Glass shattered. People scattered.

Elena couldn't move.

She stared at Lorenzo as if seeing him for the first time.

Blood stained the marble floor.

Lorenzo turned to her, his expression composed, almost bored. He reached for her hand.

"Come."

She hesitated.

Just for a second.

Something in her recoiled-terror blooming hot and sharp in her chest. This was not a story. Not a warning.

This was who he was.

But when his fingers closed around hers, firm and steady, something else stirred too. A confusing pull. A sense of safety wrapped in fear.

He led her away from the chaos, out onto the balcony where the night air was cool and damp.

She leaned against the railing, trembling.

"I didn't know," she whispered. "I didn't know you would-"

"I know," he said.

That was all.

She wrapped her arms around herself, breath unsteady. "I'm scared of you."

He didn't deny it.

Instead, he stepped closer. Close enough that she felt his breath brush her hair, warm against the back of her neck.

"You should be," he said quietly.

Her heart raced.

And yet... she didn't move away.

The city lights blurred below them. Music drifted faintly from inside. Somewhere behind them, alliances cracked and hardened.

Elena realized then that her life had crossed a line she could never step back over.

She feared him.

And worse-some part of her still leaned toward him, drawn by something dark and undeniable.

A shadow moved at the edge of the balcony.

Someone watching...