Page 17 of Alessio DeLuca

The thought sends a thrill of excitement through me, but it’s quickly followed by a sinking sense of dread. Because this means something. Something I’m not sure I’m ready to face. We’ve been at this dance for five years.

But it’s not like I can refuse. So I simply nod, my grip tight on the garment bag.

“I’ll be ready.”

Ava nods, already typing away on her tablet as she exits my office. I sink into my chair, my knees suddenly weak.

* * *

I barely recognize the woman staring back at me from the full-length mirror in my bedroom. The dress Alessio sent me is a masterpiece, a sleek sheath of midnight blue silk that hugs my curves like a lover’s caress and looks fabulous on my skintone. My hair is swept up in a sleek bun, exposing the line of my neck. A pair of strappy silver heels and drop earrings complete the look.

I look like someone’s fantasy, a million miles away from the casual, nerdy hacker I’ve always been. But beneath the gloss and the glam, my stomach is tied up in knots.

It’s not just playing dress-up that has me on edge. It’s Alessio. It’s the way he makes me feel, the way he looks at me like he wants to eat me whole. Like he already owns me, body and soul.

A knock at my door jolts me out of my spiraling thoughts. I take a deep, steadying breath and go answer.

Alessio is waiting on the other side, looking like fucking sin incarnate in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. His blue eyes rake over me from head to toe, dark and hungry.

“Christ, Maty,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.

He trails off, apparently at a loss for words. I feel a flush creeping up my neck, my skin prickling with awareness.

His jaw tightens as he offers me his arm. “Shall we?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. The heat of his body bleeds through the thin fabric of my dress as he escorts me down to the waiting car, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back.

* * *

The gala is all clinking champagne glasses and glittering diamonds. Alessio keeps me close to his side as we navigate the crowd, his arm around my waist a silent declaration of ownership.

I can feel all eyes on us, hears the whispers, sense the speculative looks. The infamous Alessio DeLuca, with a mystery woman on his arm? Must be the juiciest gossip to hit the social scene in a while by the way they’re staring.

Alessio’s expression is as cold as always. But I can also feel he’s on high alert, scanning the room for any hint of a threat.

And then I see her. A stunning brunette in a slinky red dress, her lips curved in a sultry smile as she sways towards us. I recognize her from the tabloids - Valentina something, some heiress with a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts behind her.

“Alessio, darling,” she purrs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s been too long.”

I feel Alessio stiffen, his grip tightening on my waist. “Valentina,” he greets her coolly. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She laughs, a throaty, seductive sound. “You know me, love. I never miss a good party.”

Her eyes slide to me, assessing and dismissive. “And who is this?”

I stiffen at her condescending tone, but before I can snap back at the bitch, Alessio interject.

“This is Maty,” he says, infusing his voice with pride. “My girlfriend.”

I nearly choke on my champagne. Fucking girlfriend?! Say what, now?!

Valentina’s perfectly plucked eyebrows shoot up. “Girlfriend,” she repeats, her voice dripping with disdain. “How… cute.”

Alessio’s smile is pure ice. “Yeah, isn’t it? Now if you’ll excuse us, I promised Maty a spin on the dance floor.”

He whisks me away before she can respond, his hand hot and possessive on my back. And I let him maneuver us away.

“Girlfriend?” I hiss, as he pulls me into his strong arms. “What the hell was that for?”

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