Luca's house was exactly what she expected—outrageously beautiful, flamboyantly decorated, and glowing like a jewel box under the night sky.
Crystal chandeliers. Velvet couches in emerald and gold. Art on every wall—nudes, abstracts, photographs of models mid-laughter. The place smelled like citrus, champagne, and something floral Eliana couldn't name but wanted to bathe in.
"Don't be shy, darling," Luca whispered behind her as he placed a flute of champagne in her hand. "You belong here."
Eliana exhaled slowly. Her dress—a soft satin slip in dusty rose—clung to her in just the right places, the hem grazing her thighs every time she moved. She wore her hair down, pinned on one side with a golden clip Luca had gifted her earlier that week. "For the party, baby. You're going to meet my people. You need to shimmer."
And here she was.
Three months since she'd started as his assistant. Three months of organized chaos, designer tantrums, breathtaking fittings, early mornings, and whispered coffee runs. She loved it. Luca had made her feel like she mattered. He fed her wine and pasta when she forgot to eat. Snatched her phone during weak moments when her ex dared to resurface. Called her his "angel baby secretary" and told everyone at the office she was the real boss.
"Come," Luca said, gently guiding her toward the back patio where a smaller group had gathered. "I want you to meet my best friends. They've heard so much about you, it's embarrassing."
Eliana stepped outside into warm, evening air and a small circle of people who looked like they'd stepped off the cover of some dangerously exclusive magazine.
"Darlings," Luca cooed, arms spread, "this is Eliana. My assistant. My savior. My therapist. My calendar. My angel."
Eliana flushed.
A tall, fierce woman with copper hair and a backless navy dress turned, eyes scanning Eliana with playful delight. "So you're the one. Oh, baby, Luca talks about you like you walk on rose petals."
"That's Valeria," Luca whispered in her ear. "Skincare empire. Don't let the cheekbones intimidate you."
Valeria stepped forward, kissed both of Eliana's cheeks, and purred, "You're even prettier than I imagined. It's rude, really."
"I—uh, thank you," Eliana stammered, heart thudding.
Beside Valeria stood a woman in a silver halter gown, curves for days, skin like caramel silk and lips coated in the deepest plum. "I'm Renee. And yes, we're both trans. I know you were wondering."
Eliana blinked. "You're stunning."
"I know," Renee winked. "But I like hearing it anyway."
They both laughed, the tension easing slightly.
Then came Elias—dark skin, diamond studs, and a mischievous glint in his eye. "Club owner. I live in neon and regret nothing."
He kissed her hand like a prince. "Welcome to the circus, sweetheart."
And then—him.
Standing slightly apart, holding a flute of something pink. A figure in a flowing black satin dress, tailored yet soft, delicate spaghetti straps slipping down his narrow shoulders. Honey-brown hair that curled at the ends. Lips full. Eyes downcast, almost unreadable. Still. Serene. Like a painting that could shatter if you breathed too hard.
Nicholas.
Or as Luca called him—Nicky.
"Eliana," Luca said, stepping behind Nicky to place his hands on his shoulders, "this is my quietest, rudest, prettiest friend. Nicky, meet the woman who keeps me from losing my mind."
Nicky looked up.
And the world shifted.
His eyes—hazel flecked with green. Pale skin with a soft blush on the cheekbones. Long lashes. No smile. Just a blink. A quiet study.
Eliana's pulse stuttered.
He didn't say anything. Just nodded slightly, gaze flicking to her lips, then away.
Luca giggled, "He's shy. And probably judging your shoes."
"I like her shoes," Nicky murmured, voice low. Unexpectedly rich.
A pause.
Heat pooled between Eliana's ribs. She smiled—just a little. "Thank you."
They stood in that weird little pocket of quiet while the others resumed their conversation—something about a recent fashion week disaster, models fainting, someone falling off a stage.
Luca was drifting in and out, greeting guests, throwing kisses. Valeria was cackling. Renee was drunk already. Elias had stolen someone's sunglasses.
Eliana remained, next to Nicky, their shoulders nearly touching. He hadn't moved.
"You don't like parties?" she asked softly, watching him from the corner of her eye.
"They're fine," he replied, voice even. "People talk too much."
She laughed under her breath. "And yet here you are."
He finally turned his head fully, eyes meeting hers again. "Luca begged. He said I had to meet you."
Her throat tightened.
"Oh?"
He nodded. "He said you were soft. Smart. Funny. Kind. Said you make good tea and never judge him for crying over silk samples."
Eliana tilted her head. "He said all that?"
"He also said you're healing. And that you don't know how beautiful you are."
Her breath caught.
Nicky's gaze didn't waver. His expression remained unreadable. Not flirty. Not cold. Just… observant. As if he could see the ache she was still trying to tuck away.
"Are you always this direct?" she whispered.
His lips twitched. The faintest ghost of a smile. "Only with people who glow."
She wanted to say something clever. Wanted to look away. Instead, she held his gaze.
Their moment was broken when Luca came twirling back, arms full of champagne.
"Okay, who wants to play Cards Against Couture?" he chirped. "We're getting drunk and I need chaos!"
Nicky turned away, but his fingers brushed against Eliana's arm as he moved. Just a second. Barely a graze.
But it lingered.
Eliana stared after him as the group drifted inside.
Her heart? It was still cracked. Still careful.
But something about that look…
That voice in a dress.
That quiet, unreadable fire—
Made her want to know more.