Chapter Eight

[AMELIA]

Is it possible to get a heart attack just from setting eyes on someone? If it's not then it is as from today.

My entire frame goes rigid, my fingers freeze around the glass Alberto had forced me to take. My eyes lock in on Luca's and as much as I want to look away, I can't. It's like my body is no longer my own and won't listen to my commands any longer.

I feel my breath gradually becoming shallow, the room looking like it's closing in on me, and the constant chatter sounding like it's going on right inside my head. I feel a panic attack on the way, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

Lucas walks towards me with a smile on his face. “Don Alberto!" He calls as he gets to where we're standing. He extends his hand and my fiance shakes it with a smile. “I heard you got a new wife. Just had to come and see for myself who Alberto chose this time around."

Alberto smiles and puts his hand around my waist, pulling me closer to him. "Lucas, meet Amelia, my beautiful fiance. She's not my wife yet, not until a few months.”

Lucas levels his gaze on me and the cruelest smile graces his face. " You look beautiful, Amelia. It's truly a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lucas Sterling, your fiance's recent business partner so…we'll be seeing each other more often than not.”

He extends his hand but I keep mine by my side. He can go fuck himself. That and his hideous facade. My refusal doesn’t faze him. It never has.

Lucas’s smile doesn’t falter, doesn’t crack—not even a twitch. If anything, it widens just a fraction, sharp and knowing, like he expected this. Like he enjoys it.

“How rude,” he says lightly, withdrawing his hand and tucking it into his pocket. “But then again, you were always terrible with manners, especially when you were upset.”

My stomach drops.

Alberto chuckles beside me, completely unaware. “She’s shy,” he says fondly. “Still getting used to all this.”

Lucas hums, his gaze never leaving my face. “Oh, I know. Actually, Amy and I grew up together and have a rather…close relationship.”

My lungs burn. I can feel my pulse in my ears, pounding so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear it. His presence presses against me like a physical weight, dragging memories up from places I’ve buried deep, places I swore I’d never revisit.

“Amelia,” Alberto says softly, squeezing my waist. “Say hello properly. Lucas is your old acquaintance, don't be rude.”

I force my lips to curve into something that might resemble a smile. It feels wrong, foreign. On a normal day, under normal circumstances, I would stay as far away from Lucas as possible, acquaintance or not.

My voice comes out thin. “Hello. It's good to see you again.”

Lucas’s eyes gleam. “Still has that voice,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then, louder, to Alberto, “You have excellent taste, Don Alberto. She’s… unforgettable.”

Something in his tone makes my skin crawl.

I feel it before I see it; the subtle shift in the room. Rafè has noticed.

His head snaps up from across the room, his sharp gaze locking onto me. Then it moves to Lucas.

And hardens.

Valiente leans closer to Rafè, murmuring something under his breath. Rafè doesn’t respond. He’s too busy staring at the man standing far too close to me.

Oh, fuck! The last thing I want right now is a scene.

“Lucas!” another voice cuts in; a distraction, a blessing. One of the men calls his name, waving him over. “We need to discuss Milan.”

Lucas finally breaks eye contact with me, but not before leaning in slightly, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

“Enjoy the party, Amelia,” he says softly. “I told you, I’m watching. Always.”

My knees nearly give out.

He steps away like nothing happened, slipping back into the crowd, shaking hands, laughing, blending in.

Alberto turns to me. “You alright, piccola? You look pale.”

I nod quickly. Too quickly. “Just… overwhelmed.”

He pats my hand. “Go sit with the women for a bit. Trevor will keep an eye on you.”

I don’t wait for permission. I move—fast, controlled, every step an act of sheer will. My vision blurs as I pass tables, faces, glittering chandeliers.

I make it to the edge of the room before my breath stutters.

Then a shadow falls beside me.

“You okay?” Rafè’s voice is low. Dangerous. Concern wrapped in steel.

I look up at him, and something in my expression must give me away—because his jaw tightens instantly.

“Who was that?” he asks quietly.

I swallow, my fingers curling into the fabric of my dress. “His name is Lucas.”

Rafè’s eyes darken.

“And why,” he says slowly, “did he look at you like he already owns you?”

My chest tightens.

“He doesn’t,” I whisper. “Just an acquaintance.”

Rafè steps closer, just enough to block me from view, just enough to make it clear to anyone watching that I’m not alone.

“Then you better tell me everything,” he says. “Because men who look at what’s not theirs don’t live very long in my world.”

And for the first time tonight, the fear inside me shifts.

Because now?

Rafè won't stop until I tell him exactly what happened between me and Lucas.

Shaking, I rise to my feet and force a smile. “I'll use the ladies room if you don't mind."

I don't wait for his response before I saunter off, towards the staircase and into the ladies washroom. I shut the door and move to the mirror.

Turning on the tap, I begin to splash water on my face, half hoping the past hour had been nothing but a nightmare.

“You haven't changed a bit in all these years, I see."

A scream tears through my throat as I carry my head up to spot Lucas standing behind me in the mirror. I turn around and yup…he's definitely here.

The panic attack that I've been fighting for almost an hour comes crashing onto me like a wave of unwanted emotions. I struggle to breathe, clawing at my throat as the room starts to blur.

Lucas lets out his signature insane laugh as he grabs hold of my throat, cutting off my air further. “You think you can escape me, baby? You are nothing without me.”

I don't reply. I can't. His hand around my throat is depriving me from what little air I had. I claw at his arms desperately, but it's all in vain.

" I've been searching for you for two fucking years, and you are here whoring yourself out to a man who probably won't make it past next year and all for what?” He screams tightening his hold.

My vision blurs, black dots flooding my senses. Just when my eyes are about to drop close…

“Get your fucking hands off her!"