Captured by shadows

The late morning sun cast a warm glow over the streets as Alessandra stepped out of the Rovella, her mind still tangled in the web of thoughts Giulia had spun with her sharp insights.

You want him because he's dangerous.

Giulia was right, of course. But it was more than just danger.

It was the way Matteo saw her. The way he peeled back the carefully constructed layers of Alessandra Ricci—the polished socialite, the dutiful fiancée—and exposed the woman underneath. A woman who wanted more.

She exhaled sharply, adjusting her sunglasses as she stepped onto the sidewalk. No. She couldn't go down this path.

Yet, no matter how much she tried to will away the thoughts, Matteo lingered in her mind like a shadow she couldn't shake. The way he looked at her, as if he could see through every wall she had ever built. The way his presence made her pulse race with something far more dangerous than fear.

The streets of Milan were alive with their usual rhythm—luxury cars gliding past, pedestrians moving in practiced elegance, the hum of espresso machines spilling from cafés. But none of it could drown out the turmoil brewing inside her.

As if the universe were taunting her resolve, her phone vibrated.

Matteo.

Her breath hitched. She shouldn't answer. She really shouldn't.

But her fingers betrayed her.

Matteo: Did you have fun confessing your sins to your best friend, princess?

Alessandra's grip on her phone tightened.

The audacity.

Alessandra: Eavesdropping now? How charming.

It took less than five seconds for his reply to come through.

Matteo: I don't eavesdrop. I observe.

She could picture him saying it—casual, infuriatingly confident, with that smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Alessandra: Then observe someone else. I have nothing to say to you.

A pause. Then—

Matteo: Liar.

Her pulse spiked. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to react. Not to give in.

But then her phone buzzed again.

Matteo: Turn around.

Her breath stalled.

No.

She shouldn't.

She wouldn't.

Yet her body moved before her mind could catch up.

And there he was.

Leaning against a sleek black car parked along the curb, his posture relaxed yet exuding dominance. The sun reflected off the polished surface, casting sharp lines across his features, making him look even more untouchable.

Dangerous.

Her fingers tightened around her phone. Damn him.

"You're impossible," she muttered, tucking her phone into her purse.

Matteo smirked, pushing off the car with effortless grace. "And yet, here you are."

She lifted her chin. "Don't flatter yourself. I was leaving anyway."

He took a slow step toward her, his gaze never wavering. "Good. I'll take you home."

Alessandra scoffed. "You think I'd get into a car with you?"

"Considering you haven't walked away yet…" His lips curled. "Yes."

Infuriating.

And yet—he was right.

Because her feet weren't moving.

Because some twisted part of her wanted to get into that car.

She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to stand her ground. "Go home, Matteo," she said, her voice steel-edged. "Whatever game you think you're playing, I'm not interested."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "And yet, you're still here."

Her jaw clenched. "You're insufferable."

"And you're lying to yourself," he countered, stepping closer. "Tell me something, Alessandra—do you lie this much to Luca?"

Heat surged up her spine. "What are you—"

"Do you look at him the way you look at me?"

His voice was velvet, dangerous, intoxicating.

Her breath caught, her nails digging into her palm. This was Matteo's greatest weapon—words that cut too deep, a presence that swallowed her whole.

"Because I see it, princess," he continued, his voice quieter now, his lips just a breath away from hers. "Every time you try to resist me, you look at me like you're wondering what it would feel like if you didn't."

Her breath hitched.

Damn him. Damn him to hell.

She should turn around. Walk away. Say something scathing and leave him standing there.

But she couldn't.

Because he was right.

And he knew it.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his gaze locking onto hers, daring her. "Tell me to walk away, and I will."

Silence crackled between them.

All she had to do was say it.

But she couldn't.

Because some reckless, burning part of her didn't want him to stop.

And that unnerved her.