As the door creaked open slowly.
Alessia froze, her fingers still clutching the worn piece of paper that had just slipped beneath the windowsill minutes ago. Her heart thundered in her chest as Luca stepped in, his presence swallowing the room like a storm cloud.
He wore his tuxedo jacket undone, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the sharp lines of his neck and the faintest hint of ink curling around his collarbone. His dark eyes scanned her. Her flustered stance, the way she hid something behind her back.
Luca's jaw ticked.
"What are you holding?" His voice was low. Calm. Too calm.
Alessia hesitated, then slowly handed him the paper. She expected a reaction. A curse. A flash of rage.
But Luca didn't even glance at the words.
He crumpled the letter in one hand, walked past her, and dropped it on the side table like it was nothing more than a grocery list. "The Atlans," he muttered with quiet disdain. "Always barking. Never biting."
