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The thrum of the bassline hit me the instant I crossed the threshold, a physical vibration deep in my chest. The air was thick with drifting smoke and the low glow of colored lights, casting the room in a hazy, almost unreal atmosphere—like a forbidden fantasy I had no right to indulge. I shouldn't have been here. Not in a place like this. Not with the reputation I carried. But tonight, I hadn't come as Carlo Rossi. I hadn't come to command, to intimidate, or to broker deals in whispered corners. I came to vanish, if only for an hour. And perhaps… to see him. I settled into the deep leather booth tucked at the rear, where the light barely grazed the table. My men knew to remain outside. This was personal. Then he took the stage—you. God. Every motion was a silent provocation. A grac…