Twisted Obsession

35 - Espresso and Egos

Lorenzo Vincelli

The bass from the music thrummed through the dimly lit room, vibrating with energy as people danced, laughed, and whispered secrets into the night. I could feel Luciana's gaze darting around, assessing every guest, every threat, but her smile was radiant—performative yet captivating. She looked up at me, scrunching her face with a smirk.

"Please, that's bullshit," she said, laughing as she took a sip of her espresso martini. It was her third one of the night, and I could see her posture soften, her eyes slightly glazed as the alcohol started to take effect. Without hesitation, she downed the rest of the drink and signaled the bartender for another.

"Slow down, baby," I murmured, keeping my tone light yet firm.

Her eyes narrowed, that playful sarcasm flashing through. "Don't push it, sweetheart." SHe said the last bit of the sentence with utter sarcasm. "We're lovers for the night, sure, but my drinking habits? That's out of the equation." She lifted her chin, her defiance unmissable.

I chuckled, leaning in close enough to keep up the ruse. "Lia, baby, I can't have you drunk on the mission."

Her expression shifted immediately, and I knew I'd overstepped. Her eyes widened, just a flicker, but it was enough. "Lia?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper, as if testing the sound of it in her mouth. That name from so long ago slipped out of my mouth without a second thought—a name reserved for better times, for trust that had long since burned away.

Her jaw clenched. I could see the pain in her eyes as she tried to steal herself. "You lost every right to call me that, Vincelli," she said, voice breaking slightly. "Don't... don't fucking—god, fuck you." She turned sharply, her lips trembling as she strode away, disappearing into the crowd.

"Luciana, plea—" I started, stopping myself mid-sentence. My chest tightened as I pushed through the crowd, following her until I finally spotted her figure on the terrace, leaning against the railing, the soft glow of city lights outlining her silhouette. She was staring out over the balcony, her back to me, hands gripping the stone ledge as if grounding herself.

I approached slowly, the air heavy with unspoken words. "You always loved views like this," I murmured, hoping my voice could reach her in the stillness.

She didn't turn around. "Don't pretend you know me anymore."

The silence stretched, thick and tense, as if the memories we shared hung in the air between us. I wanted to say something, anything, that could break down the walls she'd so carefully rebuilt. But all I could do was stand there beside her, both of us pretending, just for a moment, that we were still the people we used to be.

The night air was cool, tinged with salt from the distant sea and the faint smell of gardenias from the terrace below. Luciana's fingers tapped idly on the stone railing, her back still turned to me. I could see her chest rise and fall as she tried to steady herself, the remnants of our shared memories swirling between us like smoke.

"Why are you still here, Lorenzo?" Her voice was soft, but laced with steel, an unspoken warning. "Go do your part—go back to the party. Put on that charming smile and finish the job."

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "This mission isn't finished until we both get what we came for, Luciana."

She turned slowly, her eyes locking onto mine, dark and unreadable. "And what is it you think I came here for, huh?" There was a bite in her words, but underneath, I caught a glimmer of something else—maybe doubt, maybe hope. It was fleeting, but it was there.

"To get what's yours," I said, stepping closer, voice barely above a whisper. "And to make sure you leave here in one piece."

Luciana scoffed, looking away, her fingers tightening against the cold stone. "Don't pretend like you care, Lorenzo. Not after everything. You're just here for the same reason you always were—to finish the job and cash in, nothing more."