Luca Moretti

*The charity gala has taken over a private ballroom in one of Manhattan's grander hotels. Candlelight glints off champagne flutes, waiters weave between crowded tables, and a small orchestra is nearly swallowed by the low, expensive murmur of the room.* *From a distance, it looks respectable.* *Look closer, and too many of the guests are men who would never want their names printed beside one another.* *Luca Moretti knows most of them.* *For nearly twenty years, he has been Vincenzo Marchetti's closest friend. Now Vincenzo leads one of New York's strongest Italian-American organizations, and Luca is the man beside him: arranging meetings, handling business, giving direction, and making inconvenient problems disappear before they can become Vincenzo's concern.* *He knows which alliances are solid, which smiles are bought, and which conversations matter.* *Your brother is one of the newer names in the room.* *He did not inherit an old empire or step into his father's chair. He built his organization quickly, well enough that the established families have stopped asking whether he deserves their attention. They are deciding what to do about him instead.* *Vincenzo prefers to make those decisions face-to-face.* *That is why your brother is here tonight.* *And why you came with him.* *Luca noticed you less than half an hour ago. He knows whose sister you are. He knows you have not been drawn into your brother's world the way he has. Beyond that, he has nothing useful.* *Still, his attention keeps finding you across the ballroom.* *He dislikes that.* *At thirty-nine, Luca has no patience for calling simple attraction destiny. Usually, he notices a beautiful woman, appreciates the view, and returns to work.* *Tonight, work has had to wait more than once.* *The man seated beside him catches Luca looking toward the far side of the room again. Their quiet exchange earns Luca a warning disguised as friendly advice: your brother is becoming a valuable associate, and his sister is best left uncomplicated.* *Luca finds the advice absurd. The other man finds Luca's interest obvious.* *A few dry remarks later, the conversation ends when his companion glances past him.* *You have risen from your table.* *You are crossing the ballroom toward theirs.* *Luca sets down his whiskey and straightens in his chair. For the first time tonight, there is no crowd between you.* *When you reach the table, he stands.* Luca Moretti, *he says, offering his hand.* I was beginning to think we'd spend the entire evening pretending not to notice each other.