Chapter 3 A Dangerous Dance

The city never slept. Neither did Luca Valentino.

Perched in his penthouse, he watched the skyline glitter beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Manhattan pulsed with life, but his world had narrowed to a singular focus.

Sophia.

She was alive.

She was back.

And she was playing a game he intended to win.

The phone on his desk vibrated, cutting through the silence. He Looked at the screen. Matteo.

He answered without fear. "Tell me you found something."

"She's staying at The Astoria, the presidential suite," Matteo reported. "Checked in under the name Isabella Cross. Fake ID, but high-end-whoever set this up knows what they're doing."

Luca gave a small smile. "Of course they do."

Sophia had always been meticulous. Calculated. She never left loose ends.

Except him.

"Security?" he asked.

"Minimal. Just a single guard. She's either reckless or confident."

Luca knew better.

She wasn't reckless.

She was taunting him.

He sat back, tapping his fingers against the polished desk. "Have someone keep an eye on her. I'll handle the rest myself."

Matteo hesitated. "Boss-"

"Just do it."

A pause. Then a resigned sigh. "Understood."

Luca ended the call, his mind already spinning with the possibilities.

She had walked into his world uninvited.

Now, he would return the favor.

Face to Face

Sophia stood on the balcony of her suite, the cold night air wrapping around her. Below, the city stretched endlessly, lights flickering like fireflies.

Her phone vibrated. A new message.

Unknown Number: You should have stayed dead.

She smiled slowly, deleting the message without hesitation.

Threats no longer fazed her.

She had spent the past three years living among shadows, learning how to be one herself.

And yet, Luca was different.

He had always been different.

She had felt his presence the moment she stepped into that gala. The air had changed, thickened with an unspoken challenge.

Now, he was hunting her.

Good.

She turned back inside, letting the sheer curtains fall into place. The suite was bathed in warm golden light, luxurious and pristine. A temporary home, nothing more.

She knew he would come.

It was only a matter of when.

A knock at the door.

Right on time.

Sophia smiled as she crossed the room, her silk robe brushing against her bare legs. She didn't bother checking the peephole.

She already knew who it was.

Luca.

Her fingers curled around the handle, and she pulled the door open.

There he stood.

Dark suit. Impeccable. Powerful. Unshaken.

But his eyes-those stormy, unforgiving eyes-burned with barely restrained fury.

He didn't speak at first. He just looked at her.

Looked at the woman he once claimed.

The woman he had lost.

The woman who had come back to haunt him.

She raised a brow. "Took you long enough."

Luca stepped inside without an invitation, his presence commanding the space.

Sophia closed the door behind him, leaning casually against it.

"So," she murmured, tilting her head. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Valentino?"

His jaw tightened. "Drop the act, Sophia."

She smiled. "What act?"

His gaze flickered over her-over the silk robe, the delicate silver chain resting at the hollow of her throat. His voice was deceptively calm.

"You've been dead for three years."

She lifted a shoulder. "Clearly, that was an exaggeration."

Luca took a step closer. "Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?"

His fingers moved slightly, as if resisting the urge to touch her. To shake the answers out of her.

"You don't get to just reappear," he said, voice low and lethal. "Not after what you did."

Sophia's amusement dimmed. "What I did?"

His eyes darkened. "You betrayed me."

She exhaled sharply, pushing off the door. "That's what you think?"

Luca didn't flinch. "It's what I know."

A dangerous silence stretched between them.

Then Sophia took a step forward, closing the distance between them. She felt the heat of him, the tension crackling like a live wire.

"If I were truly your enemy," she murmured, "you'd be dead already."

Luca's lips curled into a smirk, but there was no humor in it. "Is that a threat, princesa?"

"Not at all." She held his gaze, unwavering. "Just a fact."

His fingers grazed her jaw, slow and deliberate. Not gentle. Not rough. Just enough to remind her of what he was capable of.

Just enough to remind her who he was.

Luca leaned in, his breath a whisper against her skin. "You think you can play this game with me?"

She smiled, her lips barely brushing against his. "Darling, I invented this game."

Then, with infuriating grace, she stepped back.

Luca watched her, his expression unreadable. But his eyes...

His eyes told a different story.

A war had begun.

And neither of them planned to lose.

Luca turned to leave, but paused at the door. His voice was quiet, but the threat was undeniable.

"This isn't over, Sophia."

She sipped her wine, unbothered. "It never is."

As the door closed shut behind him, a slow, dangerous smile curved her lips.

Let the games begin.