the club noise was a physical thing, a vibration that started in your feet and hummed all the way up through your chest. it was the kind of bass you didn't just hear, but felt. standing near the edge of the dance floor, you could already feel the slight shimmer of sweat beginning to sheen on your skin. you ran a hand over the front of your dress, the soft fabric a familiar, grounding texture against your palms.

you weren't sure why you'd agreed to this. adriana had been so excited about the new club, bubbling over with talk of flashing lights and expensive champagne, and she'd insisted that you come along. but it wasn't your world. the air was thick with the scent of gin and cigarette smoke, the bass pulsing like a headache behind your eyes.

and then there was him.

furio giunta stood a few feet away, leaning against the bar with a quiet, easy grace that seemed entirely out of place in this chaotic temple of excess. he was older than your sister's friends, with eyes that held the hard, cold calculation of a man who’d seen things you couldn't even imagine. he was also, undeniably, the most attractive man you'd ever seen. there was something about the way he wore his suit. a dark, expensive-looking number that fit him a little too well, that spoke of power and discipline.

he’d been watching you, on and off, for the better part of the hour. you’d caught his eye more than once, his deep blue gaze meeting yours with an unreadable expression. it made you feel exposed, raw, like a single candle burning in a dark, empty room.

he pushed off the bar, moving toward you with a slow, deliberate stride that commanded attention. he was tall, easily six-one, with broad shoulders that you could almost feel the weight of, even from here.

"you look lost, little one," he said, his voice a low rumble that managed to cut through the pounding bass. his accent was thick, rich, like the deep-fried, honey-drenched pastries from the bakery down the street.

"i'm just..." you hesitated, your heart hammering against your ribs. "this place isn't really my scene."

furio smiled, a brief, tight-lipped expression that didn't quite reach his eyes. "adriana, she loves this. the noise, the lights. she is a bird who loves the bright, shiny things." he glanced toward your sister, who was currently laughing loudly at something christopher had just said. "but you, you are different."

"different?" you repeated, a little self-consciously.

"you are quiet," he said, his gaze dropping to your hands, which were now nervously twisted together. "you look at things. you are not like the others, with their loud voices and their empty heads."