I reached Florencia just as twilight settled over the city, the kind of light that blurred the line between day and night. The restaurant glowed with soft amber lamps, polished wood, and muted elegance. Couples leaned close over candlelit tables, a few businessmen murmured over contracts, and near the bar, an elderly couple shared a bottle of Dom Pérignon, swirling the bubbles like it were liquid gold.
Damien was already sited when I arrived. I slid into the seat across from him. The table was tucked near the window, giving us a perfect view of the city lights stretching beyond the glass. Calm classical music hummed in the background, blending with the low murmur of conversation.
"You really don't want to go to the club," I said, lifting my glass as the waiter poured a crisp Krug Grande Cuvée into our flutes. The golden liquid caught the candlelight like sunlight trapped in crystal.
"I said I don't," Damien replied, swirling the wine absently. "It's... complicated."
"Complicated?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You like her. She likes you. You both know it. And you're pretending to be friends just to protect yourselves. That's not healthy, Damien. It's not fair to either of you."
He sighed, fingers drumming the table. "I just... I don't want to make it messy. You know how she is. How careful she is with her life. I'd rather stay out of her way than risk—"
"Risk what?" I interrupted. "Missing your chance? Life isn't a contract you can renegotiate endlessly. Tonight is actually the perfect opportunity. You go to the club, let loose a little, and maybe you stop thinking so damn much. A little fun won't ruin anything."
Damien hesitated. His eyes met mine, searching for a flaw in my logic. "And what if I just... screw it up?"
I leaned back, taking a slow sip of the Krug, letting the effervescence clear my mind. "Then you learn. You move on. You don't sit here torturing yourself while she's probably thinking about the same damn thing. One night, Damien. That's all I'm asking. Consider it... a strategic move for your sanity."
The waiter returned with our plates—spaghetti alle vongole for me, carbonara for Damien. The aromas of garlic, olive oil, and pecorino filled the air. We ate quietly at first, letting the weight of the conversation linger between bites.
Finally, Damien leaned back, a resigned half-smile tugging at his mouth. "Fine," he said. "One night. But if you get us thrown out again—"
I clinked my glass against his. "That was one time, and it was justified."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Right. Haven Club, then."
"Good man," I said, smirking. "Tonight, we remind ourselves life isn't just meetings and responsibilities."
For the first time that evening, I saw the spark return in his eyes—the one he tried so hard to bury under caution and restraint. Maybe this night would lift some of the weight off both our shoulders. Or maybe it would set something else on fire.
Either way, I could use the heat.
We arrived at Haven Club, and the bass hit immediately, heavy and vibrating through the floor. The air was electric. Neon lights flashed like lightning against the ceiling, and the crowd pulsed in rhythm with the music.
People were flirting, dancing, kissing—lost in the energy of the night.
Damien and I made our way to the bar to get a drink. A few girls approached, leaning close with bright smiles and laughter that competed with the music. Damien seemed to be enjoying the scene more than they were, letting himself get lost in the rhythm while one woman practically threw herself at him.
I, on the other hand, had other priorities. We weren't here for anyone but each other. I stepped between Damien and the persistent girl, pressing close and talking into her ear just to block her out, the music pounding so hard that it swallowed my voice.
A few minutes later, I turned back to check on Damien—and he was gone. My heart skipped. I waved off the girl and her friends, scanning the club for him.
And then I saw it.
A strange vision in the chaos: Damien standing above a man lying on the floor. A woman to his left, moving toward him—or perhaps just caught in the moment. And on the right... is that Alina?
Time slowed. The music, the lights, the crowd—all of it faded into a blur as my stomach tightened.
Damien didn't see me yet. Neither did Alina. But I knew, in that instant, that nothing tonight would be simple.
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