CHAPTER 20

The air was thick with champagne, wealth, and well-masked danger.

The elite of Naples had gathered in the grand ballroom of the Hotel Imperiale, a fortress of gold and crystal where fortunes were flaunted, alliances were forged, and betrayals were exchanged like business cards.

Sasha stood near the marble bar, dressed in black, sleek and untouchable. The gown clung to her frame in all the right ways, the deep slit slicing up her thigh a silent threat rather than an invitation.

She hadn't expected him to be here.

But then again, the devil always found his way to the fire.

And Matteo De Luca?

He was fire.

She felt him before she saw him.

That undeniable presence.

That quiet command that made the room shift, that made people look without realizing they were looking.

Then, the crowd parted—just for a second.

And there he was.

Matteo.

Bigger. Broader. Sharper.

His navy tux was tailored to perfection, his dark hair styled but still slightly disheveled, like he had run his fingers through it a few too many times. His olive-toned skin looked almost golden under the chandeliers, his bluish-brown eyes scanning the room, unreadable, calculating.

He was speaking to someone, but his eyes flicked past them, skimming over the guests.

And then, for the briefest second—

Their eyes met.

A jolt.

A flicker of something that burned too close to recognition.

But it was gone before it could settle.

Matteo's gaze slid away, dismissing her as just another socialite in the room.

He doesn't recognize me.

Sasha took a slow sip of her champagne, masking the strange ache in her chest.

Good. Let him look through me like a stranger.

She had spent years crafting this disguise. Years shedding the girl he had left behind.

But if that was true…

Why did it feel like she had just been punched in the ribs?

She turned away, focusing on her real task for the night—undermining one of Matteo's key alliances.

But fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor.

Because when she moved towards the private lounge, a voice like a blade cut through the air.

"Leaving so soon? You just got here."

Matteo.

Her grip on her glass tightened for half a second before she forced herself to smirk, turning slowly to face him.

Up close, he was even more unforgivingly perfect. The faintest shadow of stubble lined his jaw, his lips set in an expression that was neither a smirk nor a frown—just watchful, patient.

Sasha tilted her head, eyes cool. "I wasn't aware my schedule required your approval."

Matteo chuckled, low and amused. "Not approval. Just curiosity."

She arched a brow. "Well, that's unfortunate. I don't entertain curiosities."

Matteo's eyes studied her—slow, thoughtful.

A silent, lingering tension.

A war beneath the surface.

Something in him shifted—just barely. Like a distant memory stirring.

But then, in true Matteo fashion, he leaned in slightly, just enough to invade her space.

"You remind me of someone."

A heartbeat of silence.

Sasha held her ground. Did not flinch. Did not waver.

Instead, she let out a small, indifferent laugh. "I'm sure you say that to all the women you meet."

His gaze flicked to her lips for half a second.

Too fast. Too subtle.

But Sasha caught it.

And that was dangerous.

The moment stretched. A dangerous game of who would blink first.

Then, Matteo smirked—just slightly, like he had found something amusing about her.

She hated that smirk.

Hated how easily it pulled memories from the past, memories she had buried so deep even the devil couldn't find them.

She needed to end this.

Now.

So she tilted her head, let her lips curl into something lazy, disinterested.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but unlike you, I don't have time to entertain ghosts."

Matteo's smirk faded slightly, but he said nothing as she turned and walked away.

She felt his gaze on her back.

Watching. Calculating.

Maybe not recognizing.

But sensing.

And that was worse.

Because Matteo didn't need to recognize her to start suspecting her.

And if he ever did?

Sasha didn't know if she would survive it.

Not again.