✎ 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬
« 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 ๋࣭ ⭑🦋๋
♪ 𝑺𝒐𝒇𝒊𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒐
" he was the song i never knew i needed "
music was everything to me until he came along and ignited my soul
he was the only...
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The grand ballroom of the Villa Rosso was illuminated by a thousand chandeliers, each crystal reflecting the opulence of the event. The annual gala was a dazzling display of wealth and power, where the city's elite gathered under one roof. Despite the festive atmosphere, an undercurrent of tension ran through the room, palpable to anyone attuned to the intricacies of high society.
Sofia Mariano stood at the edge of the dance floor, her dark eyes scanning the crowd with a mixture of boredom and irritation. Dressed in a sleek black gown that clung to her curves, she exuded confidence and defiance. Her family, the Marianos, were known for their influence in the mafia world, but tonight Sofia was here out of obligation, not desire.
"Do you see them?" Her friend, Isabella, whispered, nodding towards a group of men in tailored suits.
Sofia followed her gaze and her eyes narrowed. The Deluca family. Specifically, Vincenzo Deluca, the eldest son and heir to the Deluca empire. His presence was as imposing as his reputation. He was tall, with broad shoulders and an expression that seemed permanently etched in stone. His dark hair was meticulously styled, and his cold, gray eyes surveyed the room with a quiet intensity.
"I see them," Sofia muttered, her tone laced with disdain. "As if this night couldn't get any worse."
Isabella chuckled. "At least they're keeping their distance."
Sofia's gaze lingered on Vincenzo. She had heard countless stories about him-his ruthless mafia tactics, his icy demeanor, and his ability to make people bend to his will with just a look. She had never met him in person, and she had no desire to. The Marianos and Delucas had been rivals for years, their animosity a well-known fact.
Across the room, Vincenzo Deluca stood with his younger sister, Francesca, and a few associates. He was only half-listening to the conversation around him, his mind preoccupied with the weight of his responsibilities. The gala was a necessary evil, a place to show face and maintain appearances. He had little patience for the frivolities of high society.
"Vince, are you even paying attention?" Francesca's voice broke through his thoughts.
Vincenzo turned his gaze to his brother. "Yes. What is it?"
Francesca smirked. "I was just saying, you look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."
"You're not wrong," Vincenzo replied, his voice as cold as his expression.
As he scanned the room, his eyes fell upon a woman standing near the dance floor. She was strikingly beautiful, with an air of defiance that set her apart from the other guests. He recognized her instantly-Sofia Mariano. The tension between their families was something he had grown up with, and seeing her here was an unwelcome reminder of that rivalry.
For a moment, their eyes met across the room. Sofia felt a jolt of something she couldn't quite identify. Anger, perhaps, or curiosity. Vincenzo's gaze was unwavering, and she refused to be the first to look away.
