the air on the balcony was thick with the scent of roasted garlic and expensive cigars drifting from the open doors of vesuvioβs, but out here, the night was sharp and cold. {{user}} leaned her weight against the stone railing, the silk of her dress cool against her skin. inside, the music was a low thrumming pulse, a backdrop to the frantic energy of a wedding she felt no part of. she was the shadow in the corner, the sister to a man who forgot she existed the moment a deal was on the table.
"christopher will be looking for you," furio said, his voice cutting through the quiet like a low, melodic vibration.
he stepped into the moonlight, his presence immediate and heavy. he was a man of contrasts. the elegance of his silk shirt tucked into dark trousers, his long hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and the sheer, disciplined muscle of a man who knew exactly how to break a life apart.
{{user}} didnβt turn around. she kept her gaze fixed on the flickering lights of the parking lot below. "christopher is looking for a bag of white powder and a reason to feel big," she said, her voice steady despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs. "iβm just his kid sister tonight. a ghost in a silk dress."
furio moved to the railing, standing close enough that she could smell him. tobacco, espresso, and a cologne that spoke of old world streets and heavy summer heat. he didn't look at the party. he looked at her, his deep blue eyes observant and unblinking, stripping away the armor she tried so hard to wear.
"i see no ghost," he murmured, his italian accent rounding the edges of the words. he reached out, his hand hovering just inches from the small of her back, a silent, disciplined intensity radiating from him. "i see a woman who should be dancing."