Shadows and Smokescreen

The sleepless nights were becoming a pattern for Celeste, and not the kind that came from too much caffeine or late case files. No—this was the kind that clawed at her peace, gnawed at the edges of her sanity, and left her staring at the ceiling, wondering where it all went wrong.

The anonymous message she had received days ago had burrowed deep into her mind. Every attempt to trace the number led to a digital dead end. Whoever had sent it knew what they were doing—the trail was clean, too clean. Professional.

And then there was Luca. He crossed her mind more often than she cared to admit. Was he the one behind it all, playing a dangerous game? Or was someone trying to frame him? Her gut twisted in knots of uncertainty. She needed answers. More than that, she needed the nightmares to stop.

The police had finally opened an investigation into the deaths of the men—the ones connected to her case. It had taken too long, and justice felt like a cold afterthought. But it was something. A start. At least, that was the lie she kept telling herself.

Her phone lit up on the nightstand, buzzing softly.

Luca.

One part of her groaned with exhaustion. Another, the traitorous part, fluttered with anticipation. She answered.

"Hello, Luca. Good morning."

"Good morning, Celeste. I need you in my office now," he said, voice cool and clipped. No pleasantries. No warmth. Just business. "We're drafting a legal document for a new acquisition. You'll handle the contract."

"On my way," she replied without hesitation.

It wasn't just the work. She needed to see him. Maybe he'd slip. Maybe he'd say something. Maybe she was just clinging to shadows because the truth felt too far away.

---

Luca ended the call and leaned back in his chair. Celeste had picked up on the first ring. Punctual. Professional. But he knew that wasn't the reason she'd said yes so quickly.

She was searching.

Hoping he'd drop a clue, leave a trail.

Let her. He had other plans.

He buzzed his secretary. "Pick up a dress from La Valencia. Midnight blue. Size four. Bold. Deliver it to my office."

"Yes, sir."

There was an event tonight—one that mattered. He hadn't told Celeste yet, but he wanted her there. As his lawyer. As his date. As his weapon.

---

When Celeste stepped into Luca's office, the air felt colder than usual. Maybe it was the room. Maybe it was him. The space, like the man, was precise and composed—black marble floors, minimalistic decor, the faint scent of rich coffee and leather.

Luca stood behind his desk in a charcoal suit, flipping through a folder. He didn't look up.

"You're early."

"Yes, you said it was urgent," she replied, setting her documents on the table.

Finally, he met her gaze. Calculated. Measuring. "We'll be meeting with Mr. Thompson shortly. I'll handle him. You stay and review the amendments."

Before she could answer, he walked out.

Celeste sat down, fingers twitching. Five minutes passed. Curiosity stirred.

She stood, moved to the file cabinet. Smooth drawers. No locks. Amateur mistake.

First drawer: routine paperwork.

Second: business agreements.

Third... something different. A folder labeled Verdanti Holdings. The name wasn't just unfamiliar. It felt wrong. Like something she'd heard in hushed tones and buried headlines. She eased the folder open.

Then.

Click

The door opened.

"Ms Celeste, are you looking for something?"

Luca's voice came first—cold and amused, laced with danger, before he entered.

I froze folder in hand, I turned slowly

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, lips curved in that smirk that made it impossible to tell if he was flirting or preparing to destroy you.

"I... I was looking for a pen."

"In my classified files?"

"Your secretary said—"

He cut her off. "Don't insult either of us intelligence. You know exactly what you're doing."

Their eyes locked. No anger. Just curiosity. testing

I held his gaze. He didn't flinch.

He stepped forward, plucked the folder from my hand, and slid it back into the drawer. Calm. No drama.

Then, the curveball.

"There's an event tonight. I want you there. And yes, you don't get to say no."

I blinked.

"You're inviting me to a party… after catching me snooping?"

He smiled. "Let's call it a distraction."

---

The dress fit perfectly.

Midnight blue satin, a thigh slit that teased, a neckline that dared. Somewhere between elegance and danger. I barely recognized myself in the mirror.

Luca's car was waiting.

The venue screamed wealth—crystal chandeliers, a live quartet playing Vivaldi, champagne glasses clinking against whispers and fake laughter. Luca guided me through the ballroom like a weapon he owned.

Politicians, CEOs like Sharks dressed in silk.

He introduced me to names I'd only seen in Forbes articles.I smiled and nodded as Luca introduced me to some of them.

And then I saw him.

Near the terrace doors, tall, groomed, and unnervingly still. A gray suit sculpted over broad shoulders. Piercing blue eyes that met mine with the ease of someone who already knew who I was. He held a glass of whiskey but didn't drink it—just swirled it, like it bored him.

His face didn't belong in this room.

It belonged on a wanted poster.

"Who's that?" I asked Luca, barely above a whisper.

He didn't look.

"Frederick he owns a media group in Palermo. Now he's here for investments, politics,and power."

"Friend of yours?"

Luca's jaw tensed.

"He's... family. Technically."

The word family came out like venom.

Frederick noticed us and walked over, smooth and calculated.

"Luca," he greeted, with a smile too warm to be real. "I see your taste in company has evolved."

Luca didn't flinch.

"Frederick,you're still charming the room, I see."

"And you must be Celeste."

His attention shifted fully to me, eyes gleaming with interest.

"She's with me," Luca said. Firm.

"Pity," Frederick replied, not meaning a word. "Still—maybe I'll see you again, Ms. Celeste."

He turned and walked away like he owned the room.

I exhaled.

"That was subtle."

Luca's eyes stayed on Frederick.

"Celeste he's dangerous don't ever talk to him alone."

"Why?"

He looked at me—really looked. For a heartbeat, something raw passed across his face. Then it vanished.

"Because he plays dirtier than I do."

I gave a dry laugh.

"That's something."

He didn't smile.

But I knew. I hadn't seen the last of Frederick.

---

By the end of the night, it was clear—I wasn't just here as a date. I was being positioned, As his lawyer, his escort and his shield.

And maybe his pawn.

I hated that the part of me enjoyed it. The thrill and the danger.

But Frederick's eyes never left me.

And luca's hand never left the small of my back.

And in that dark, glittering ballroom full of wolves, I realized something vital:

The real war hadn't started yet.

But when it did…

I'd be right in the center of it.

And I'd better be ready to survive.