CHAPTER 4

Chapter 4

"You'll be there, Emilia, no excuses," the finality of each word slicing tension in the room, the tone of her father's voice like the last stroke of the gavel.

Emilia's stomach churned, but she nodded. Whatever was termed a charity gala was only an excuse when her father seized up his friend and foe alike, masquerading as a great soul under the camouflage of goodwill. Well, there was always a reason behind everything the De Luca family did, and tonight wasn't any different.

"Yes, father," she replied with not a shred of emotion in her voice at all; her mind screaming inside all the time. She wanted nothing to do with it, yet little room to refuse was available.

He looked her up and down then settled on her demeanor. "Be presentable in appearance. We have a message tonight, and you will be at its core, my daughter."

She made an attempt to smile contrived at it, though not very successfully concealed the resentment. "Understood."

That old weight of apprehension burrowed its way into her chest before she could turn away. Being a De Luca had taught her to wear masks, to play whatever part her family had set out for her. But tonight, something felt off-some trap she could not see, waiting, poised. Life was never so complicated as it was in that very instant-when the news of her pregnancy had to be kept secret from the family, for the time being.

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She walked into this gala with her head held high that night, cool and composed. Deep crimson was her dress, elegant and flowing around her. In her eyes, though, the reflection of turmoil below. Every step she took weighed in on my shoulder like the legacy of her family-instant reminders of the obligations entwining my life, which seemed impossible to break free from.

The ballroom was fully packed, the guests so well appareled that each of them was either a high roller in the underworld or in high society. She forced her gaze to pan across the room; her brain instantly mapped those faces that were familiar from those that weren't. Years earlier, her father had taught her to categorize every person into two boxes: friend and potential enemy.

"Smile, Emilia," her father whispered in her ear while his arm guided her deeper among the people. "This is our chance."

She clamped a composed smile on her face; it was as though she became a pawn in some sort of game where nobody ever cut her in. The air was thick with expensive cologne and champagne fumes as she let herself be swept into one endless conversation after another, lonely and tiresome in turn.

Just when she had decided that the night would continue in that foreseeable dullness, something, one too familiar countenance in the mass, caught her gaze.

It could not be. She was getting a racing heartbeat as she glimpsed him, the towering figure in a dark suit, that easy confidence oozing off him just like she remembered. And then their eyes met.

The world retreated for one eternal moment, and they were alone in that quiet silent understanding. For a flash of an instant, shock and recognition to the point beyond flashed across his eyes, the moment they met hers. She caught her breath. He remembered.

"Emilia, are you alright?" one of her father's associates asked, dragging her back from that world.

"Yes, a bit warm in here," she replied in a surprisingly even voice as her mind ran riot. She made herself continue to keep her gaze averted from him as her heart beat rapidly in her chest. What was he doing here?

But her mind betrayed her. She remembered that night, the way he had watched her, hadn't known her and yet had eyes only for her. For that moment in time she had been free. But that freedom now took on the proportions of a nightmare closing in upon her. He was no longer just a stranger; he was either a friend or a foe.

"Excuse me," she whispered, her hand brushing against her father's business associate as she pushed through the throng, eager for a moment to herself. She needed to keep calm, needed to play the card of everything being fine, as though she wasn't horrified from memories that lingered in her mind of that night.

But she even managed to fumble this.

A low, unmistakable voice spoke directly behind her. "Mystery girl." She went still. Her heart racing furiously in her chest, she swung around to face him.

He stood no more than a few feet away from her, his eyes nailed into hers with an intensity that laid her bare and drew her in. "We meet again," he murmured, his voice smooth and yet with that edge of curiosity, and something else altogether harder to define.

"I—I," she breathed. She was trapped; each avenue of escape was cut off by the heat in his eyes.

Another step forward, his gaze latched onto her face as if he thought that perhaps he needed to look at it again, figure out some sort of puzzle that it presented. "You aren't going to disappear on me again, are you?" he asked, the faintest smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth.

She raised her eyes to his, and every fiber in her body screamed at her to turn and leave. I need my head clear, she thought. But it was a living, palpable thing, this pull between them, as strong almost as it had ever been, and she faltered.

"That depends," she replied, forcing the smile onto her lips. "Depends if you are going to ask me questions I cannot answer."

Luca's smirk fell slightly, and his face turned grave as he leaned against the wall. "I've got a few questions, actually," he said, almost accusatory. "Like why you disappeared that night."

Emilia's heart was racing within her chest. She could never tell him the truth-not about her family and most definitely not about the baby. He mustn't know, she told herself. No one can.

"Sometimes it is better that way," she replied cautiously, doing her best to divert the subject from entering a hazardous avenue. But he didn't look like one that could be easily swayed.

"Is that so?" he asked, eyes acutely sharp. "Or perhaps you are concealing something."

She made herself hold steady, her face impassive and her pulse beginning to leap. "What could I conceivably have to hide?

She let him look at her for almost a long time, the silence between them a challenge thrown. "I don't know," he said finally, his voice low and deep and slashing. "But I mean to find out."

“Since you have nothing important to talk about, I'm leaving" she hurried to say, making a half step to one side to get around him. But hus fingers had come around her arm, and his grip was soft yet unyielding.

"Not so fast," he whispered, staring at her. The air quivered between them with tension, a taut wire neither of them seemed wanting enough to snap. "We're not done here."

A pounding was going on in Emilia's chest as she searched for an escape. Teetering on the edge of pushing him away, he leaned into her, speaking soft now in low murmurs for her ears alone.

"I believe it is time you stopped playing games with me, Mystery girl," he said, the tone at once commanding and seductive. "Just tell me who you are."

She felt her pulse quicken, her stomach twisting up into knots of fear and excitement.

But she couldn't allow him to get too close and uncover the secrets she worked so hard to bury. Because if he found out who she really was, what her family was, everything could unravel if he turned out to be a foe. And What had happened that night could turn out to be a great disaster.

No, she thought firmly. I can't let it happen.

But before she could retreat, Luca was leaning in, afire in his intensity. "You don't just walk out on a person like that," he whispered, low and unyielding. "Not when there's business left undone."

She swallowed hard, her head racing to find an answer-something to placate him without giving too much away to him. But as she opened her mouth to speak, words slipped away.

"What is it that you are hiding?" he pressed further, his fingers still unyielding around her arm, boring his gaze into hers.

The space between them grew larger, filling an expanse of time and space with tension and silent queries. She felt buckling under the force of his gaze, and the walls of strength meant to impress him started to fracture.

"Please," she whispered. "Just let me go."

But his face didn't ease up; if anything, his eyes flashed brighter with a sharper intensity, his jaw set even more firmly. "I will if you tell me what I want to know," he said, the words softly spoken, but with the weight of a command.

Emilia felt cornered; her heart was running a marathon as she realized there was no easy escape. She was trapped, and the stranger wasn't going to let her go, not without explanations.

No sooner had she gathered her wits, she found an opening when someone called him. “Luca.”

He turned, loosening his grip on her wrist. She used that opportunity to free herself from his hold before taking off in the opposite direction.

“I'm going to make sure i find you again.” He yelled after her.