MELTING ICE

Vivienne Isabella Moretti was a name that commanded respect in the fashion world. As the CEO and creative genius behind Moretti Couture, she had turned her family's once-humble tailoring business into a global empire. Her designs graced red carpets and adorned royalty, earning her the title of "the queen of haute couture." Beneath the glamour and poise, however, was a woman driven by relentless ambition and the weight of her family's expectations.

But Vivienne had no idea that her carefully curated world was about to collide with one she could never have imagined.

Damon Enzo DeMarco was the face of DeMarco Designs, an architectural firm renowned for its groundbreaking skyscrapers and innovative urban designs. To the public, Damon was a visionary, a self-made entrepreneur whose projects shaped skylines around the world. His name was synonymous with sophistication and power.

But that was only half the story.

By night, Damon was the head of La Mano Nera, a shadowy mafia syndicate that controlled much of the city's underground. His rise to power in the criminal underworld was as calculated as his architectural designs—meticulously planned, ruthlessly executed, and always shrouded in secrecy. Few knew the truth about the man behind the empire, and Damon intended to keep it that way.

Damon and Vivienne family is planning their arranged marriage about after Vivienne and Damon parents become friends at some party they started meeting on their backs and planned their arranged marriage Vivienne always stays busy and doesn't attend the parties with her parents That's why she doesn't know about Damon's family or how close their parents got Damon is also not interested in those kind of socialization so he doesn't know about all this plans his parents are making.

The champagne flute felt cool in my hand as I swirled the golden liquid, watching the tiny bubbles dance upward like a chorus of celebratory fireflies. The soft hum of jazz filled the upscale bar, wrapping around me like a warm embrace. I leaned back against the plush leather chair, the scent of aged wood and expensive cologne mingling in the air, as my best friend Bianca leaned in closer, her grin wide enough to rival the moon.

"To the queen of couture!" she declared, her glass raised high, the crystal catching the light in a way that almost made it sparkle.

I rolled my eyes but clinked my glass against hers anyway. "It's just an award, Bianca."

"It's Designer of the Year," she corrected, wagging a finger at me, her dark curls bouncing with the motion. "You've been working yourself to death for years, Vivienne. If anyone deserves this, it's you. Now, for once in your life, can you please just relax and celebrate?"

I smirked, shaking my head. Bianca always had a way of making me feel both proud and annoyed. But she was right—I had earned this. The late nights, the endless meetings, the stress—it had all paid off. Still, embracing the spotlight had never been my strong suit.

By the third glass of champagne, though, I began to feel the edges soften. The world around me shimmered with warmth, the music swelled with a sweetness that felt almost intoxicating, and for the first time in a long while, I felt… lighter. And that's when I saw him.

He was leaning against the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, clad in a dark suit that looked tailored to perfection. His sharp blue eyes caught mine, and time seemed to still. He smirked, raising his glass in a silent toast.

Normally, I'd look away and pretend I hadn't noticed. But tonight, with the champagne buzzing in my veins, I found myself walking toward him, my heart drumming in my chest.

"Are you going to stare all night, or do you have something to say?" I called out, arching a brow, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

His smirk widened, eyes glinting with mischief. "I was admiring the view. Didn't realize it would come to me."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Flattery won't get you far."

"Good thing I'm not just flattering you," he replied, his gaze unwavering, like a predator sizing up its prey. "You're Vivienne Moretti, aren't you?"

"And you are?" I asked, intrigued despite myself, drawn in by the magnetic pull of his presence.

"Damon DeMarco," he replied, extending a hand. "And I must say, you're even more captivating in person."

His hand was warm, his grip firm, and something about the way he looked at me sent a thrill down my spine. I could feel the electricity crackling in the air between us, and I fought the urge to linger in that moment just a little longer.

"Careful, or I might start to think you're actually charmed," I teased, matching his intensity.

"Isn't that the goal?" He stepped closer, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver through me. "To charm the queen?"

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from a place I hadn't tapped into in ages. "So you think you can charm me, huh?"

"Why not?" He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my skin. "I'd like to try."

The air between us thickened, charged with something unspoken. I felt my heart race as I took a step closer, drawn in by his confidence. "And what happens if you fail?"

"Then I'll just have to keep trying," he said, his eyes locking onto mine, the teasing lilt of his voice sending a thrill through me.

I could feel the world around us fade away as laughter and music blurred into a soothing hum. His gaze was magnetic, and I found myself leaning in, hanging on every syllable, every subtle shift in his expression. There was something intoxicating about him, something I couldn't quite put my finger on, yet it beckoned me closer.

"Tell me," he said, breaking the tension with a playful grin, "what does a queen do when she's not ruling her kingdom?"

"Maybe she dances," I suggested, feeling a surge of daring. "Care to join me?"

His eyes lit up, and he extended his hand, a silent invitation. "Lead the way."

As I took his hand, the warmth of his palm against mine sent a spark of electricity surging through me. We made our way to the small dance floor, the rhythm of the music pulsing beneath our feet. The moment we began to sway, it felt like the entire room disappeared, leaving just the two of us in our own world.

"Is this your secret weapon?" he asked, his voice teasing as he pulled me closer, our bodies swaying in time with the music. "A little dancing to distract me?"

"Not just dancing," I replied, looking up at him, my heart racing. "A little magic, too."

"Magic, huh?" He chuckled, his eyes glinting with intrigue. "I could use a bit of that in my life."

The way he held me felt intoxicating, as if he were the only thing grounding me in this swirling sea of champagne and jazz. I could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this way—alive, desired, wanted.

As the music shifted, his gaze grew serious, but the playful spark never left his eyes. "So, what's your story, Vivienne? What drives a woman like you?"

I hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity of his focus. "I—well, I've worked hard for everything I have. The fashion world can be ruthless, but I love it."

"Passionate," he said, his voice low, drawing me in. "I admire that. But I sense there's more beneath the surface."

I swallowed hard, the heat of his gaze making it difficult to think straight. "Sometimes, I think I've forgotten how to have fun," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Then let me remind you," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a confident grin. "Let's forget about the world for a while."

With that, he spun me around, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably as I twirled away from him, the fabric of my dress flaring elegantly. When I turned back, he was watching me, his expression a mix of admiration and something deeper, something that made my heart race.

"See?" he said, stepping closer, his voice smooth and inviting. "Just let go, Vivienne."

And in that moment, with the music wrapping around us and the world fading away, I felt a sense of freedom I hadn't experienced in years. The connection between us crackled like electricity, and I stood there, heart racing, wondering if this was just the beginning of something I couldn't yet define.

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, the night blurred after our last round of drinks. I remembered his smirk, the way his hand brushed mine, the warmth in his voice when he said my name. Then... nothing.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring and a throbbing headache pounding in my skull. Groaning, I rolled over and squinted at the clock, my heart dropping. 8:45 AM.

"Damn it!" I bolted out of bed, my head spinning as I scrambled to get dressed. My presentation was in fifteen minutes, and I was already late.

I barely had time to grab my coffee before rushing out the door. The city was a blur as I weaved through the crowd, my heels clicking against the pavement, the rhythm of my panic echoing in my ears. My mind was still foggy from last night, and I was too distracted to notice the man walking toward me until it was too late.

We collided hard, my coffee spilling all over his pristine suit.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I stammered, looking up, my heart flipping in my chest.

And froze.

It was him.

"Good morning to you too," he said, smirking as he brushed at the stain on his jacket, the indifference in his tone betraying nothing of the chaos inside me.

"I—uh—sorry," I mumbled, completely flustered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"No harm done," he said, stepping closer, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Though we really have to stop meeting like this."

I frowned, confusion washing over me. "Do I... know you?"

His smirk widened, a playful glint in his gaze. "Not as well as you did last night."

My cheeks burned hotter, but before I could respond, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "You might want to pace yourself next time, Vivienne. Champagne makes you… bold."

And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, heart racing and utterly confused.

"Who the hell was he?" I muttered to myself, my mind racing. "And why do I feel like I've just walked into a game I didn't know I was playing?"

As I hurried toward the office, my thoughts whirled. The central conflict of my life had been about to burst wide open, and I had a feeling this was just the beginning. The stakes were higher than I'd ever imagined, and the world of fashion I'd built was about to collide with a man who played by an entirely different set of rules. As much as I wanted to dismiss him, I could already feel the pull of something deeper stirring beneath the surface.