The girl in the reflection of the building's dark windows is a stranger—beautiful and free. She's everything I've never been allowed to be.
I take a breath, and then another, and then I walk toward the door. My heart is pounding. My hands are shaking. Every instinct is screaming at me to run.
But I don't run.
I reach for the door handle, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that everything is about to change. After tonight, I'll never be the same. This is the moment my life splits into before and after.
I pull the door open and step inside.
6
LUCA
Iarrive at the club at midnight, telling myself this is exactly what I need.
Someone who looks nothing like Giulia. Someone blonde, maybe, or redheaded. Someone tall and angular instead of soft curves. Someone who will reset my brain and get my priorities straight. Someone who will help me stop thinking about a girl I can't have.
The entrance is unmarked—just a black door with a camera above it. I show my membership card to the lens, and after a moment, there's a soft click. The door opens into a dimly lit corridor made of dark wood, with subtle lighting. A woman in an elegant black dress greets me.
"Good evening, Mr. Moretti. Welcome in. Do you have preferences you would like to state, so we can have someone escorted to meet you, or would you rather mingle?"
“Mingling is fine.” I can’t imagine listing off traits I’m looking for like purchasing from a menu. I just want to find someone who makes me feel something, so I can stop thinking about what I feel for Giulia, even for a brief time.
She just nods. "Of course. The main floor is through there. Private rooms are available on the second level when you're ready. Just let any staff member know."
The club opens up before me like a fever dream. It's not what most people imagine when they think of a sex club. No red velvet and cheap theatrics. This place is entirely understated elegance: dark leather and polished wood, soft lighting that flatters without revealing too much. The music is low, a steady pulse that I can feel more than hear.
There are maybe thirty people scattered throughout the space. Some at the bar, some in the intimate seating areas, some on the dance floor. Everyone is beautiful, and everyone is here for the same reason—to forget who they are for a little while, to take what they want without apology.
A few people, more women than men, I notice, are masked. I saw that option when I applied, but I ignored it. I have no need to obscure my identity, and that sounds like more of an annoyance than a pleasure. But I can understand the allure of someone else being masked, and as I glance around, I find myself drawn to the idea.
A blonde woman at the bar catches my eye—tall and elegant, the kind of sophisticated beauty that usually appeals to me. But when she turns, I see the curve of her smile, and something about it reminds me of the way Giulia smiled at Alessandro last week. It’s polite, hiding what she really feels.
I look away. I don’t want to be polite and reserved. I want something unhinged, something that will take me over and make me stop thinking. There's a redhead on the dance floor, moving with confidence that suggests she knows exactly what she wants. But her hair is long, falling down her back in waves, and I think about Giulia's hair, about how it would feel wrapped around my fist.
Fuck.I'm supposed to be getting her out of my system, not seeing her in every woman here.
I go to the bar and order a whiskey I don't really want. As I raise the glass to my lips for my first sip, I feel a prickling awareness at the back of my neck. The sensation of being watched. I turn, scanning the room, and that's when I see her.
There’s a woman standing near the far wall, partially hidden in shadow. She has dark hair, not black like Giulia's, but a deep auburn that catches the low light. A mask of delicate black lace covers the upper half of her face. She’s wearing a leather skirt that clings to her hips and shows off her long, slender legs encased in thigh-high black leather boots, and a black silk top that drapes over her breasts and slithers over her narrow waist. She’s absolutely stunning, her beauty captivating me in an instant, even with half her face covered. I feel my cock twitch, rising at the sight of her, and something very close to relief washes over me.
Thank fuck, I can still be turned on by someone other than the one woman I can’t have.
She's watching me. She looks nervous, like she’s unsure what she’s doing here. Like maybe it’s her first time here, too. Her tongue drags over her lower lip, and my entire body responds before my brain catches up. Heat floods through me, stiffening my cock until I’m fully erect, just looking at her. My pulse kicks up. My hands tighten on the glass.
This is wrong. This is the opposite of what I came here for.
Because even though her hair is different, even though the mask hides her features, there's something about the way she moves that feels familiar. The tilt of her head, the way she's holding herself—like she's trying to be brave but isn't quite sure she can pull it off.
I should look away and find someone else. Someone who doesn't make me think of the one person I'm trying to forget.
But I can't.
She's still watching me, and now there's something else in her posture—a decision being made. And then she's moving toward me. My brain stops working entirely.
She walks like she's not quite used to the heels she's wearing—not stumbling, but careful. Deliberate. Each step is a choice, and I can see her making them. I can see the moment she almost turns back, and the moment she decides to keep going.
The crowd parts around her without seeming to notice. Or maybe I'm just not seeing anyone else anymore.
