Chapter 3

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Isabella's POV

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Isabella's POV

The party had reached that point in the night when the energy shifted. The buzz of excitement, mingling, and dancing had slowed into a murmur of hushed conversations, sly glances, and simmering tension.

The music still pulsed, but now it felt more like background noise. People clustered in small groups around the penthouse, some lounging on plush couches, others leaning against the bar.

A haze of smoke hung in the air, mixing with the scent of expensive cologne and alcohol.

I wasn't one for the late-night social games. The masks people wore here were intricate, a delicate balance of charm and threat, and though I could play the part, I wasn't interested in it tonight.

Sofia, though, was still in the thick of it, laughing and chatting with a group of men near the dance floor.

Her high energy could keep her going until sunrise, but I needed a break. The alcohol had gone to my head, warming me in a way that made the room feel stifling.

I scanned the room once more, catching glimpses of familiar faces, but none that I felt the need to talk to.

Luca had made himself scarce after our earlier conversation, which I appreciated. I didn't want to deal with him-or anyone else for that matter.

I slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the clusters of people toward the balcony doors.

The cool night air hit me like a refreshing splash of water as I stepped outside, the noise of the party muffled behind the glass. Manhattan stretched out before me, a glittering sea of lights that blinked and shimmered in the distance.

The penthouse balcony was expansive, wrapping around the side of the building. The city's skyline was breathtaking, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in the view.

It was moments like these that reminded me why I both loved and hated New York.

The power that came with standing at the top of it all, and the loneliness that followed.

I approached the edge of the balcony, resting my hands on the cool metal railing as I took a deep breath. The fresh air helped clear my mind, but the alcohol buzz remained, humming pleasantly beneath my skin.

I reached into my glass, swirling the remaining whiskey before taking a slow sip. The burn was familiar, grounding.

I stood there, just listening to the distant hum of the city below, when I felt a presence next to me.

Matteo Romano.

He didn't say anything-didn't need to. I felt him before I saw him, the heavy weight of his presence cutting through the night air.

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⏰ Last updated: Sep 24 ⏰

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