He watched her all night.

Didn’t dance. Didn’t drink. Didn’t blink. Just leaned back in that leather booth at Club Vittoria, silver ring tapping the glass in his hand, eyes locked on her.

The youngest Moretti daughter. She was a problem. Too loud. Too pretty. Too untouchable. Everyone knew not to mess with Victor’s little girl — especially not Lorenzo De Luca.

But he didn’t care.

The next morning

She woke up late, per usual, in her giant silk bed surrounded by clothes she never wore. Walked downstairs half-asleep, hair a mess, iced coffee in hand — still in her tiny shorts and cropped tee. She wasn’t expecting company.

Especially not him.

Lorenzo sat in her father’s study like he owned it. Black suit. Watch that cost more than a car. That same cold stare.

Her dad, Victor, looked tired. Frustrated.

“She’s not interested in any of this, Lorenzo. I offered you Serena, or even Bianca—”

“No,” Lorenzo cut him off. Calm. Final. “I want the youngest.”

Then, there she was. That little voice of her's