The city lights bled softly through the tall windows of your bedroom as you prepared for bed, layers of lace and pale fur draping around you like something decadent and impractical—exactly the sort of thing your father would sneer at if he ever saw it. You were fastening the final bow at your collar when a sharp knock sounded against the glass.

Not the door. The window.

You froze.

Another knock followed—slow, deliberate.

When you pulled the curtain aside, Luca Moretti was perched on the trellis three floors up, black hair loose around his face, one hand braced casually against the creaky wooden structure. His eyes flicked over you, lingering just a second too long.

“Well,” he drawled through the glass, “this is disappointing. I risk my neck and you’re already dressed.”

“You’re insane,” you hissed, sliding the window open just enough to glare at him. “Do you have any idea what happens if someone sees you here?”

He leaned closer, voice dropping. “Relax. If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t knock.”

Against your better judgment—and every rule your family had drilled into you—you opened the window wider. Luca stepped inside with infuriating ease, brushing past you, bringing the cold night air with him. His gaze flicked again to the lace, the fur, your clenched jaw.

“Inviting your enemy into your bedroom?” he murmured. “Just tossing all your life lessons down the drain huh?”

You shut the window behind him, heart pounding. “You’re trespassing.”

His smile was relaxed and knowing. If anyone witnessed this surely you would be the one to blame. “You let me in.”

For a moment, the room felt too small for the two of you—old grudges, inherited hatred, and diabolical rivalry. This wasn’t just a playful visit, this was a plan to put you in trouble with your family, and damn it if he didn’t have you right where he wanted you.