Chapter 5

The sound of the auctioneer’s voice lingered in my mind even after I left the estate. I couldn’t shake the way Luca’s gaze had pinned me in place, even as he’d said nothing more than a polite goodbye. There was something in his silence—curiosity, maybe, or suspicion. Either way, he was watching me closely, and I knew I couldn’t misstep.

The following morning, I woke to a stream of sunlight spilling through the cracks in my curtains. My body ached from the tension of the previous night, and as much as I wanted to dive headfirst into my notes and piece together everything I’d learned so far, I decided to clear my head first.

Running had always been my therapy. The rhythmic sound of my sneakers hitting the pavement helped untangle the mess of thoughts in my head. My usual route took me through a quiet park near my apartment, its winding paths lined with oak trees. The crisp morning air stung my lungs, but I welcomed the burn.

As I ran, I replayed every moment of the night before—the flicker of something unreadable in Luca’s expression, the murmured conversations I’d overheard between his associates, the fleeting feeling that I was in way over my head.

When I got home, I threw myself into the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the sweat and the lingering unease. By the time I stepped out, my phone was buzzing on the counter.

It was a text from my contact:

“You’re in. Tonight. Wear something bold. You’ll need to stand out.”

I smirked. Link had a flair for drama, always phrasing things like they were part of some high-stakes movie. I typed a quick response:

“Noted. Thanks for this. Drinks on me when this is over.”

The reply came almost immediately: “I’ll hold you to that. Stay sharp, R.”

Link wasn’t just a source; they were a lifeline. With their knack for connections and their easy charm, they could unlock doors that would take me months to crack open on my own. They never pried into the details of my investigations, and I never asked how they managed to pull strings so effortlessly. It was an unspoken agreement, one that had served me well so far.

Still, as I slipped my phone into my bag, a flicker of doubt crept in. Link had stuck their neck out for me more than once now. If this went sideways, it wouldn’t just be me dealing with the fallout.

But guilt couldn’t afford to take up space in my mind tonight. I had a mission. Another night, another crowd, and somewhere in that sea of polished faces, Luca Del Vicchio.

I stared at the messag again,, my stomach twisting. Another event. Another chance to get closer. I wondered if Luca had been the one to approve my name on the guest list again or if this was simply the work of a well-oiled machine running behind the scenes.

It didn’t matter. I had a job to do.

This event wasn’t like the others. The location was vague—an address tucked away in the heart of the city, where sprawling skyscrapers cast shadows over forgotten alleyways. I wasn’t even sure what to expect when I arrived.

By late afternoon, I’d settled on a deep emerald dress that flattered my figure without being too revealing. I pulled my hair into an elegant updo, adding a hint of gold to my makeup for a touch of drama. As I looked in the mirror, I told myself again and again that I belonged in this world, even if it was a lie.

The drive to the venue was a blur. By the time I arrived that evening, I’d convinced myself I was ready. The sprawling grounds were lit with glowing lanterns, the faint hum of conversation and clinking glasses carrying through the crisp night air. A valet opened the car door for me, and I stepped out, clutching my clutch tighter than necessary.

The venue was nothing short of breathtaking, the kind of place you’d only see in magazines or on glossy television shows. As I made my way to the entrance, a discreet plaque near the towering iron gates caught my eye. The Grand Pavilion. It sounded as ostentatious as the people it likely hosted.

A private elevator whisked me to the top floor, where I was greeted by a wall of sound—laughter, clinking glasses, and the hum of a live band.

Inside was buzzing. A grand piano played softly in the corner, and servers glided between clusters of guests, offering champagne and hors d’oeuvres. At the center of the room was the stage, where the auctioneer was already warming up the crowd

I stepped into the room, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t a gala or an auction; it was an intimate gathering, exclusive in a way that made the previous events seem pedestrian. Luca was here—I could feel his presence before I even saw him.

When our eyes met across the room, something flickered in his expression. Recognition. Amusement. A challenge.

I lifted my chin, refusing to let him intimidate me, and made my way toward the bar.

“Whiskey, neat,” I said, my voice steady even as my pulse raced.

“You surprise me,” came a low voice beside me.

I turned, and there he was. Luca Del Vicchio, his gaze sharp, his lips curving into the faintest smirk.

“I get that a lot,” I replied, forcing a smile that I hoped looked effortless.

“What brings you here tonight?” His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, like he was testing me.

I lifted my glass, meeting his eyes. “Charity, of course. Isn’t that what we’re all here for?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his gaze lingering on me like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Then, he chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous.

“Of course,” he said, clinking his glass against mine.

The rest of the room seemed to fade away as we stood there, locked in a silent battle of wits. It wasn’t until someone interrupted him—one of his associates, judging by the stiff way they addressed him—that he finally broke eye contact.

“Enjoy your evening,” he said, his voice a murmur that felt like a promise.

I watched Luca disappear into the crowd, his polished exterior masking whatever game he was playing. I sipped my whiskey, letting the burn of it steady my nerves. There was something magnetic about him, something infuriatingly elusive, and it left me teetering between intrigue and caution.

The auctioneer’s voice boomed through the room, calling attention to the stage. The first item up for bid was a vintage timepiece—gold-plated, handcrafted, and steeped in history. The bids climbed higher, the crowd’s energy rising with each call. I watched as Luca’s head tilted slightly, his focus momentarily drawn to the action.

“Not your style?”

I turned to see a young woman beside me, her crimson gown shimmering under the chandelier light. Her smile was warm, her tone curious.

“Not quite,” I replied, setting my glass on the bar.

“Mine either,” she said with a shrug, extending her hand. “Natalie. And you are?”

“Renee,” I said, shaking her hand.

Her gaze flickered across the room. “You’re brave, talking to him.”

I blinked. “Who?”

She smirked knowingly, nodding in Luca’s direction. “Mr. Del Vicchio. People don’t usually get too close unless they have to.”

Before I could respond, the auctioneer’s voice rang out again. This time, it wasn’t the item that caught my attention—it was Luca raising his hand to place a bid.

“Going once… going twice…”

“Sold!”

A smattering of applause followed as Luca reclaimed his glass from the bar. He turned, his eyes finding mine again.

“Care to join me for the next round?” he asked, his voice as smooth as the whiskey in my glass.

The woman beside me gave me a look—half warning, half encouragement—before melting into the crowd.

“What exactly are we competing for?” I asked, stepping closer.

“Not competing. Just observing,” Luca replied, his smirk returning. “Though I’d say you have a talent for keeping people guessing.”

“Maybe I like being an enigma,” I said lightly.

“Careful,” he murmured, leaning slightly closer. “In this room, enigmas don’t stay safe for long.”

A beat of silence stretched between us, charged and unspoken.

The next auction item was announced—an abstract painting, bold and chaotic, its colors clashing in a way that still felt oddly harmonious.

“What do you think?” he asked, his gaze shifting to the stage.

“About the piece?”

“About everything,” he said, turning back to me.

It wasn’t a simple question. It felt layered, deliberate, and it made my pulse quicken.

“I think it depends on the audience,” I replied carefully.

“And which audience do you think I’m playing for?”

I held his gaze, refusing to let him unsettle me. “That’s the mystery, isn’t it?”

His smile deepened, but before he could respond, the auctioneer’s gavel struck the podium. Another sale. Another ripple of applause.

“Walk with me,” Luca said, extending his hand.

I hesitated, but curiosity won out. His touch was brief as I slipped my hand into his, the contact electric before he released it.

He led me through the crowd, past clusters of guests locked in conversation, past paintings and sculptures I didn’t have time to fully admire. We stopped by a secluded balcony overlooking the city. The night air was cool, the lights below sprawling like a sea of stars.

“Tell me, Renee,” he said, leaning against the railing, “how is it you’ve ended up at three of these events in a row?”

His question was casual, but his eyes betrayed his intent. He was studying me, dissecting every move I made.

“I’m just a lover of fine things,” I replied smoothly.

“And a collector of secrets, perhaps?”

The accusation—or was it an observation?—hung in the air between us.

“You’re projecting,” I said lightly, though my heart raced.

He chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “Maybe.”

We stood there in silence for a moment, the city below us humming with life.

“I should get back,” I said finally, breaking the tension.

Luca straightened, his smirk returning. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your… observations.”

“Enjoy your evening, Mr. Del Vicchio,” I said, turning to leave.

“Renee,” he called after me, his voice soft but arresting.

I paused, glancing back over my shoulder.

“You play this game well. But remember, every game has its rules.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t trust myself to. Instead, I stepped back inside, the noise of the party enveloping me once more.

But his words stayed with me, a challenge lingering in the cool night air.