Chapter 3 The fire beneath the mask

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Aria had always been good at pretending.

Pretending to be her father's obedient daughter. Pretending she didn't care when the blood of rivals spilled across cold marble floors. Pretending her body wasn't a weapon just as much as her intellect. But the most dangerous lies were the ones she told herself-and as she stared into the mirror of her dimly lit bedroom, the mask still lying discarded on her vanity, she knew last night had been a miscalculation.

That man-whoever he was-had cracked something open in her.

His voice still lingered, low and lethal, like the echo of a promise made in war.

> "Enemies don't pretend."t

She should've walked away sooner.

She should've never danced with him.

She should've never wanted to stay.

The gown she had worn clung to her like sin, tossed now across a chair. Her lipstick still stained the rim of a forgotten wine glass. Her skin still tingled in the place his breath had touched her collarbone.

And the worst part?

She didn't even know his name.

---

Luca hadn't slept.

Not a second.

He sat in his private study, surrounded by silence and shadows, staring at the files spread across the oak desk in front of him. Surveillance photos, documents, intel from Matteo's sources in New York and Naples-all focused on the De Luca family. But none of it mattered now.

He was searching for her.

The girl in black.

The siren with a spine of steel and eyes like smoldering dusk behind a lace mask.

She hadn't known who he was. He was sure of it. If she had, she'd have slit his throat on the ballroom floor.

Or maybe not.

Maybe she would've kissed him.

And that was the danger.

It wasn't just her beauty-though God knew that alone had disarmed him. It was the way she stood with her chin raised, as if daring the whole world to blink first. It was the way her laugh had sliced through the masquerade's polite pretensions like a blade. She was a weapon disguised as elegance. And he needed to know who she was.

He looked at the mask she had worn-left behind on a ledge near the champagne bar. It lay on his desk now like a trophy or a curse.

> Who are you?

Matteo entered without knocking. "You've been quiet."

Luca didn't look up. "Get me the guest list. All of it. Every woman who wore black. Every one with a lace mask."

Matteo tilted his head. "You don't usually chase ghosts, Luca."

"She's not a ghost," Luca said, voice low. "She's the match that lit a fuse."T

Matteo narrowed his eyes. "You're letting your guard down."

"No," Luca said. "I'm preparing for war."

---

Three days passed.

Three days of silence and obsession.

Three days of remembering what it felt like to touch something-and not want to destroy it.

Then fate, as it often did in their world, stepped in.

---

It was a gallery opening. Lavish. Public. Sophisticated. A way for old money and new blood to mingle over overpriced art and under-the-table arrangements.

Aria didn't want to go.

But Bianca had insisted.

"It's neutral ground," Bianca said. "Besides, your father wants you visible. Strong. Present. After all... the Morettis were there last week."

Aria flinched, just barely.

Bianca caught it. "What happened at that masquerade?"

"Nothing," Aria said too quickly. "It was a dance."

"A dance doesn't keep you up three nights."

Aria didn't answer. Couldn't. Instead, she let herself be painted into perfection-a crimson gown, hair slicked back in a low twist, a diamond choker at her throat like a collar of ice. The night air smelled of risk.

They arrived under flashing cameras and meaningless greetings, the crowd parting like silk for the De Luca princess. Aria moved like she belonged-because even when she didn't, she acted like she did.

And then she saw him.

Across the gallery.

Luca.

No mask. No lies.

Just eyes that hit her like thunder.

Their gazes locked, and the world shifted. The music faded. The crowd blurred. She felt it like gravity, a pull she neither wanted nor could escape. Her breath caught.

Him.

He stepped forward.

So did she.

Each stride was a choice.

Each step, a betrayal of blood.

They met beside a painting-a surrealist swirl of crimson and ivory and chaos. Fitting.

Neither spoke for a moment.

And then, quietly:

"You," she said.

"I didn't recognize you without the thorns," he murmured.

Aria tilted her head. "And I didn't recognize you without the mask."

His smile was small, dangerous. "Funny. I'm not wearing one."

Her pulse spiked. "Neither am I."

Their eyes burned into each other-two predators sizing up the reflection of their own darkness.

"You shouldn't be here," she said.

"Neither should you."

"This is enemy territory."

"And yet here we are."

Her voice dropped. "If my brother sees you, he'll try to kill you."

"If your brother sees me," Luca said, "he'll try and fail."

There it was again. That recklessness. That arrogance that should've repulsed her.

But didn't.

Instead, she found herself wanting to peel him apart, layer by layer, until she found the thing that made him bleed.

"You knew," she said. "Didn't you? That night. You knew who I was."

"I suspected," he admitted. "But I didn't care."

"That's dangerous."

He stepped closer. "You're dangerous."

"I could destroy you."

"You already are."

Their voices were quiet now, barely more than breath, but the tension between them was electric. It wasn't lust. It wasn't love. It was something far more primal.

Recognition.

Two fires, circling.

Two knives, drawn but not yet used.

"You shouldn't be speaking to me," she whispered. "You know what this means."

"I do," he said. "And I think you do too."

He leaned in-just enough for her to smell him: smoke, leather, something darker.

Then, softly:

"This ends one of two ways, Aria De Luca. We burn... or we bury each other."

She looked into his eyes. Her voice trembled not with fear, but truth. "Maybe both."

And then she walked away.

But the damage was already done.

Behind them, unseen, Enzo De Luca watched through a windowed archway-eyes narrow, fists clenched.

And in the shadows beyond the parking lot, a pair of pale hands lit a cigarette.

Isabella exhaled smoke, smiling to herself.

"It begins," she said.

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