It had been a month since the party. A month of silence, distance, and uncertainty.
Melanie stood by the window in her penthouse, staring out at the sprawling city of Sicily. The past few weeks had passed in a blur—dealing with the aftermath of the launch, expanding her empire, and keeping a safe distance from Rhys. She'd fought hard to keep her emotions in check, but every time she thought she had her life under control, something or someone would stir up feelings she didn't want to deal with.
A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. It was Dana, her ever-present confidante and the only person who truly understood the weight of her choices.
"You look like you're lost in thought again," Dana said, stepping inside with a cup of coffee in hand. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about him?"
Melanie didn't need to ask who Dana meant. She didn't want to think about Rhys, but the truth was, he was never far from her mind. His touch, his possessiveness, the way he'd looked at her across the room that night—everything about him had branded itself into her memory.
"I'm not lost in thought," Melanie said, forcing a smile. "Just tired."
Dana sat across from her, placing the coffee on the table. "Tired, huh? Or maybe just running from something you can't control?"
Melanie raised an eyebrow. "You always have a way of making things sound complicated."
Dana chuckled. "It's not complicated, Mel. You're not fooling anyone. Not me, not even yourself. You miss him."
Melanie's heart skipped. "I do not."
"Oh, you do," Dana teased, crossing her arms. "And he misses you too. Did you really think he'd forget about you after one party?"
Melanie let out a frustrated breath. "I don't care. I have bigger things to focus on."
Dana didn't press further. Instead, she changed the topic. "I got an invitation today for a big event next week. A charity gala in Rome. You should come. Get out of here for a while. You could use some fun."
Melanie hesitated, then nodded. "Maybe. I'll think about it."
The truth was, she needed a distraction. Something to pull her out of this place—out of this fight for power, control, and everything that had started to consume her. A trip to Rome might be exactly what she needed.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Rhys sat in his office, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the surface of his desk. He hadn't heard from Melanie since the party. He couldn't get her out of his mind, but his pride wouldn't let him make the first move.
It was a delicate game. Every time he thought about reaching out to her, his thoughts were clouded by the tension between them, the unresolved emotions from that night, and the fact that her independence made him want her more.
But then there was Steven Clarkson.
Steven was making his move—ruthless, calculated, and far too close to Melanie for Rhys' liking. He wasn't blind to it. Rhys had always known that Steven had a soft spot for her, and now, with everything at stake, the situation was becoming dangerous.
Rhys knew he had to act soon. He wouldn't lose her—not to Steven, not to anyone. But how? And when?
---
The Next Day
Melanie and Dana arrived at the airport in Rome, their plane touching down with a smooth landing. It was a much-needed change of pace, a reprieve from the world she had been so deeply immersed in. Melanie could feel the tension slowly draining from her shoulders as they made their way out of the terminal.
The city was alive with energy, and as they passed through the cobblestone streets, Melanie felt a small sense of peace she hadn't known in weeks. For the first time, she allowed herself to breathe without the pressure of business and power.
They checked into their hotel, a luxurious boutique right near the Spanish Steps, where the soft sound of Italian chatter filled the air. Melanie stepped out onto the balcony, the view of the city sprawling beneath her. This was a moment of freedom—away from the ever-watchful eyes of the business world, away from the expectations of those who wanted her to remain a puppet in their game.
She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to forget everything. Trying to forget him.
But she couldn't.
---
That night, at the charity gala, the city glittered with opulence. The event was being held in one of Rome's most prestigious venues—a sprawling mansion adorned with gold and crystal, where the elite of Europe gathered to make deals, show off their power, and parade their wealth.
Melanie had come for the fun, but she couldn't help but feel the familiar sense of being on display. Everyone wanted something from her. She was used to it. But tonight, she would play the game—because she knew how to make them all want more.
She wore a dress that took everyone's breath away. A daring red gown that clung to her curves like liquid silk, plunging low enough to tease without being too revealing. Her hair was styled in loose waves that framed her face, and her lipstick was bold, a deep crimson that matched her dress.
As she entered the grand ballroom with Dana, heads turned. Whispers spread like wildfire. She felt the eyes of men upon her, but it didn't matter. She wasn't here for them. Not tonight.
But then she felt it.
The heat.
A presence behind her.
Before she could turn, a voice—low, smooth, and unmistakably familiar—drifted into her ear.
"You look stunning, Melanie."
Her breath caught in her throat as she spun around, her heart leaping in her chest.
Rhys.
He stood before her, impossibly handsome in a tailored black suit, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. The years of rivalry, the years of control—none of it mattered now. There was only him, and her.
---
As the night unfolded, the atmosphere thickened with tension. Melanie couldn't escape the pull between them, and Rhys wasn't backing down. He watched her every move, a quiet hunger in his gaze that didn't go unnoticed by others.
And then there was Steven.
Steven Clarkson, standing a few feet away, his eyes locked on Melanie with a calculating gleam. The rivalry between Rhys and Steven was well-known, and tonight, it was about to boil over.
Steven's movements were deliberate, his presence like a silent storm on the horizon. He approached Melanie with a slow smile, his eyes never leaving hers.
"You seem... different," he remarked, his voice smooth. "More... dangerous."
Melanie smiled, though the words stung more than she let on. "Things change."
She didn't know if she meant the words for Steven, for Rhys, or for herself. But as she looked between the two men, the spark of rivalry, of jealousy, of possession—it was all too real.
And that night, the fight for her heart had only just begun.