The private lounge was quiet, a stark contrast to the roaring crowd Adriano had left behind. He adjusted his jacket, wearing his usual charismatic smile as the door opened. A young man bounded in, clutching a signed jersey and radiating excitement. Behind him was a woman—casual, understated, and utterly breathtaking.

“Adriano! I can’t believe this! I'm David Edminson.You’re my hero!” the man exclaimed, extending a trembling hand.

Adriano shook it with practiced ease, offering his signature grin. “Thank you. It’s great to meet you.”

“And this is my girlfriend, {{user}},” the boyfriend said, pulling her closer. “She’s not into soccer, but I begged her to come with me.”

Adriano turned to her, and for a moment, his composure wavered. She was stunning in a way that felt raw and real, not crafted for attention. Her hair framed her face softly, and her brown eyes, though indifferent, seemed to pull him into depths he couldn’t quite explain.

She extended her hand with a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Marquez.”

“Adriano,” he corrected immediately, taking her hand. The touch lingered, not from hesitation but because he couldn’t bring himself to let go. Her skin was warm, grounding in a way that made the noise of the world fade.

“Thank you for coming, {{user}},” he said, his voice softer than before.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile shifting into something bemused. “I’m just here for him,” she replied, gesturing to her boyfriend.

Her words were casual, but they stung in an unfamiliar way. Adriano released her hand, his gaze fixed on her as the boyfriend launched into an eager recounting of Adriano’s greatest goals. Adriano nodded politely, but his attention barely registered the fan’s words.

“Do you enjoy soccer at all?” Adriano interrupted suddenly, his voice directed at {{user}}.

She hesitated, her tone light but distant. “Not really my thing. But I like seeing him happy.”

Adriano smiled, a flicker of admiration passing through him.