Zaria DeLuca is ready to leave the past behind as she starts her freshman year of college. Growing up as a Black and Italian girl who never quite fit in, she endured years of torment from her privileged, mean-girl ex-bully, Alessia Valentini. But Za...
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The night had a different kind of energy. A weight to it.
I could feel it in the way my hands trembled slightly as I adjusted my dress in the mirror. The silky red fabric hugged my curves, the deep slit teasing just enough skin to be alluring without trying too hard. My makeup was flawless, the warm-toned highlighter catching the light every time I moved.
But even with all of that, my heart wouldn't settle.
I wasn't sure why this night felt so... important.
Maybe because it was.
A knock at the door made me jump slightly.
I let out a breath, smoothing my hands over my dress before opening it.
And there he was.
Lorenzo Valentini.
Tall, dark, and so ridiculously handsome that my brain short-circuited for a second.
He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, the crisp white dress shirt underneath left unbuttoned just enough to reveal a teasing glimpse of his collarbone. The air of effortless confidence he carried made my stomach flip.
His gaze ran over me slowly, his dark eyes lingering just a little too long.
I swallowed hard. "You're staring."
He smirked. "Can you blame me?"
A warmth spread through me.
Lorenzo reached out, gently tucking a stray curl behind my ear. His fingers lingered against my skin, his touch making my pulse spike.
"Ready?" he murmured.
I nodded, stepping out as he guided me down the hall with a hand on the small of my back. The heat of his palm sent a slow-burning shiver through me.
I had no idea where he was taking me, but something in his expression told me that tonight was about more than just a date.
Something was coming.
The Restaurant
Lorenzo's car was smooth and sleek, gliding effortlessly through the streets.
We didn't speak much during the drive. We didn't need to.
There was an unspoken understanding between us—something simmering beneath the surface, something neither of us had quite put into words yet.
When we pulled up to the restaurant, I nearly gasped.
It wasn't just any restaurant.
It was Giovanni's.
One of the most exclusive, high-end places in the city. The kind of restaurant that celebrities and politicians dined at. The kind of restaurant you had to make reservations for months in advance.
