Chapter 4 - BEYOND THE BALLROOM
The fallout from the gala was swift and merciless. By Wednesday morning, photographs of Nico and me arriving arm-in-arm were splashed across every high-society blog and tabloid in Manhattan. "ROSSI PATRIARCH STEPS OUT WITH SON'S EX," screamed one headline. My phone blew up with texts from Liam—angry, confused, desperate texts that I left entirely on read. Maya, my best friend, brought over champagne at ten in the morning, declaring me a tactical genius.
But beneath the triumph, a strange emptiness began to take root. The revenge was executed perfectly, yet my mind kept drifting back to the scent of cedar, the warmth of Nico's hand on my back, and the surprising gentleness in his stormy eyes. I assumed our paths would diverge now. The play was over.
That assumption was shattered at exactly two in the afternoon when a sleek black Maybach pulled up outside my office building, and a driver handed me a heavy, cream-colored envelope. Inside, written in sharp, elegant handwriting, was a simple message: The performance is over, but the conversation is not. Dinner at my estate. 7 PM. My driver will wait.
When I arrived at Nico's sprawling estate in upstate New York, the sun was just beginning to set, casting long golden shadows across the impeccably manicured lawns. The house was a modern fortress of glass and dark wood, perched on a cliff overlooking the Hudson River. Nico was waiting for me on the terrace, dressed casually but still impeccably in dark trousers and a fitted black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing strong, corded forearms.
"You came," he said, pouring a glass of expensive red wine and handing it to me.
"You didn't leave me much choice with the menacing car waiting outside," I teased, accepting the glass. Our fingers brushed, and that same electric current from the gala flared between us. I took a quick sip of wine to hide my sudden nervousness. "Why am I here, Nico? We won. Liam is the laughingstock of the upper east side, and Amber is probably hiding under a rock."
Nico leaned against the stone railing, watching me closely. "You're here because I realized something last night. I realized that my desire to punish my son was entirely eclipsed by my desire to spend time with you."
I almost choked on my wine. "Excuse me?"
He sighed, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "I built my empire by recognizing value, Luna. When I look at you, I see a woman of immense strength, loyalty, and intelligence. I watched you endure Liam's mediocrity for three years, and I always wondered why a woman like you settled for a boy like him. When you walked up to me in that red dress, burning with righteous fury, I finally saw the fire I always knew you possessed."
I stepped closer to him, the cool evening breeze whipping my hair around my face. "Nico, this is dangerous territory. You are his father."
"I am a man," he corrected fiercely, stepping into my space so our bodies were mere inches apart. "A man who divorced a toxic woman a decade ago and has spent every year since building a legacy for a son who refuses to earn it. I owe Liam nothing. He made his bed with your treacherous sister. I am done cleaning up his messes, and I am done denying what I want."
"And what do you want?" I whispered, my heart thumping wildly.
May you like
"I want to know if the sparks I felt on that dance floor were just adrenaline," Nico said softly, reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of blonde hair behind my ear. "Or if there is something real between us. Have dinner with me, Luna. No cameras. No revenge plots. Just us."
I looked up into his eyes, stripping away the grief of the past week, and nodded. "Just us."
