"Stop by the mansion, and let's get ready for the party," Elio smirks.
"See you, Ella," he whispered and smiled.
Elio had been looking forward to this day since he received the invitation to Mr. Scott's birthday party. Not for the celebration, the politics, or the grand display of wealth, but because Isabella would be there.
It had been two long months since she left for New York on a modeling contract, Two months since he last saw her smile. She was the only woman who ever had his heart, since college, where it all began. But family feuds had kept them apart.
Elio couldn't touch her, not when his father and hers still carried a rivalry soaked in betrayal. But tonight, with Isabella back and under one roof, even for a few hours, felt like a sliver of fate.
Even though she had been back from New York City a week ago, he hadn't set his eyes on her since the last two months she traveled aboard, Isabella had been his one and only love since college but he couldn't access her because of the conflict between his family and hers but she always owns his heart.
"Sir, his chauffeur called from the front seat, Miss Maya will be arriving this evening."
Elio sat up. "What?"
"She arrived earlier than expected. Her flight from Paris landed this afternoon."
"It is confirmed she attended the party, sir."
Elio exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "What a... devil." His voice was laced with frustration.
Maya and Isabella are models. Elio, Isabella, and Maya went to the same college. Two months ago Isabella was offered modeling work but was hijacked by Maya because Maya was a better person for the job. A few days later Isabella was offered another job and headed for New York and Maya for Paris. Maya has always been feisty, envious, two-faced and has always been the obstacle between him and Isabella. She has been the thorn in his throat; she always blocks every chance he gets to meet Isabella, even when her return problem has emerged.
On his arrival at the party, Elio stepped out of the car, dressed in a classic black tuxedo that fits like it was made just for him; he carried the kind of quiet confidence that didn't need flashing lights or a crowd's attention; it followed him naturally. His dark hair was neatly styled, a few strands falling just enough to soften his sharp features.
The lighting that hits his face shows his strong jawline, piercing eyes, and calm, unreadable expression that makes people wonder what he is thinking. There was something about him, elegant but distant as if he belonged to another world.
He adjusted the cuff of his white shirt beneath the tailored sleeve, then stepped onto the red carpet without hesitation. He wasn't here for the cameras. He was here for one reason.
He walked past the velvet ropes, barely nodding at the press, and headed straight toward a cluster of executives near the center. His handshake was firm, polite, and all business.
"Mr Luca," he greeted smoothly. I heard your merger is closed."
"Yes, just last week, Mr Luca stated
"Impressive," Elio offered a small nod. "Clean work."
He moved on, exchanging a few more brief words with other CEOs and board members, men his father once tried to force on him. Now they looked at him with respect. He didn't need his father's empire. He built his own.
Maya noticed him, and she paved her way down from the upper terrace; she held her champagne glass delicately, her breath momentarily caught in her throat. Elio Wilson, the man who had never glanced her way the same way he did with Isabella. His calm confidence, the way the crowd instinctively gave him space, stirred a mix of admiration and envy within her. She walked straight toward him, hips swaying, confidence in every step.
Elio noticed her as she approached, the faint scent of spiced vanilla trailing behind her. Her eyes locked on his, sharp and calculating.
"Elio, she purred, stepping right in front of him. You clean up well."
He looked like he was scanning her, and he gave a brief nod. "You're back earlier than expected." and start walking to greet the executives.
She laughed softly, a sound that didn't reach her eyes. "Did you think I'd miss my own father's party?"
He didn't even stop.
"Elio, she said smoothly, sliding in front of him. "I was starting to think you'd avoid me all night."
"Maya," he replied, barely glancing at her.
She stepped closer, forcing him to slow.
"You look… tense," she said, her voice teasing. "You should let loose a little. Maybe with me."
That's when he stopped, not because of her, but because he'd had enough, his eyes met hers, cold, unreadable.
"Don't waste your time," he said, voice quiet but sharp. "You're not what I'm here for."
Her smile cracked.
"Elio"
He cut her off, stepping around her like she was furniture. "Enjoy your…party."
And just like that, he was gone, already moving toward the front of the crowd; Maya stood frozen for a second, chest tight; rage was boiling behind her perfect makeup.
And at that exact moment, his eyes locked on the entrance, and there she was, Isabella Scott, arriving with her father. Everyone else in the room disappeared, including Maya.
Isabella Scott entered the ballroom with her father, a quiet presence that somehow drew more attention than any grand announcement could. The moment they stepped in, it felt like the room shifted around them.
Mr. Scott walked with his usual confidence, tailored to perfection, exchanging nods with other high-profile figures. Beside him, Isabella moved with the kind of grace that couldn't be taught. She wore an ice-blue gown that hugged her figure and slipped into a soft step behind her. The slit in her dress revealed just a flash of leg, her heels clicked softly against the marble floor, each step unhurried and assured.
Her hair was swept to one side, cascading in soft waves. A simple silver necklace rested at the hollow of her throat, matching diamond studs catching the chandelier light. Her makeup was barely there, just enough to enhance what needed no help. She didn't wave, didn't pose, didn't try. And yet eyes followed her, including Elio's. She passed through the crowd like air through silk gracefully.
Her gaze moved across the room, calm and unreadable, landing briefly on Elio. It was like she went into shock, the moment she saw him, everything else blurred. Her heart forgot how to beat, and for a second, the world tilted, and then she was gone, blending into the crowd, leaving Elio standing still, watching.
Elio stood still, glass untouched in his hand, watching her blend into the crowd; his jaw tightened, and breath caught somewhere in his chest.
"Did she just look at me?" he thought
He wasn't sure
Maybe her eyes had passed over him. Maybe not, It had been so fast, just like a flicker, no smile, no acknowledgment. Just…that movement.
"Was that nothing? Or was it deliberate" He couldn't tell his mind was restless
She was always composed, always in control. She doesn't do drama.
"Damn," he thought, eyes still fixed on the place she'd just walked through, Elio's eyes followed her through the crowd, every detail of her imprinted on his mind.
The way that dress curved along her back, how it moved like liquid over her hips with every step, effortless, seductive without trying. She wasn't even looking his way, yet his entire body was aware of her.
"God…" he muttered silently
He shouldn't be thinking like this, not here, not now, but the effect she had on him hadn't faded. If anything, the distance, the silence, the two long months without her had only sharpened it.
He remembered her laugh in college, soft, rare, the way her lip curled when she was amused but trying not to show it. And he remembered the feel of her once, that night, brief moments, innocent touches that lingered too long. Nothing had ever happened between them, but the tension? It had always been there, like something waiting to be lit.
And now, watching her in that gown, owning the room without saying a word…his mind slipped. Just for a second, he imagined what she looked like beneath that dress. He imagined walking up behind her, brushing her hair off her neck, whispering her name low against her skin; his breath shook, and he blinked, jaw tightening.
This wasn't the place, but his body didn't care about the setting.
From across the ballroom, Maya watched him. She had seen him brush past her like she didn't exist, but now? Now he stood still, drink in hand, eyes locked on one person, Isabella.
Maya's jaw clenched as she followed his gaze. Isabella moved through the crowd with her usual icy grace, completely unaware, or maybe completely indifferent to the attention she was pulling, Elio's attention.
But Maya noticed something else.
It wasn't just admiration in his eyes. It wasn't polite interest, It was hunger. That deep, buried kind of hunger that you can't fake or can't control.
Maya's stomach turned.
She had seen men look at her like that. She'd relied on it. But Elio? She was profusely angry, she only wanted him to look at her that way and yet here he was, damn near undressing Isabella with his eyes in the middle of a ballroom.
Maya's fingers tightened around her champagne glass.
"She hasn't even done anything," Maya thought bitterly. "She just walked in."
And still, Elio looked like the rest of the world had disappeared, that's even more than anything, made Maya burn.
A clear chime rang through the hall, the soft sound of a glass tapped gently by the MC.
Now, with great honor and warm applause, let's welcome the one whose life we celebrate tonight, our esteemed celebrant, Mr. Bartlett!"
People applaud.
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
I want to start by saying how truly grateful I am to see so many familiar and cherished faces here tonight. Your presence means more to me than words can express.
Turning 55, it's one of those milestones that makes you reflect. On the roads traveled, the lessons learned, and the people who made the journey worthwhile, I've been fortunate to experience a fulfilling career.
To my family, my daughter, thank you for being my grounding force. Here's to 55 years of memories, and to many more years ahead, full of purpose, joy, and a little mischief along the way.
People laugh
Now, let's raise a glass, to life, to friendship, and to never growing too old for a great party.
Cheers!"
Cheers!
"All right, ladies and gentlemen," came the MC voice from the central podium. "Let's get this celebration started."
Polite applause followed. Music shifted from soft ambient strings to something smoother, richer, a live band easing into jazz. Waiters moved with trays of wine, conversations resumed, and laughter began to fill the air.
The ballroom came alive.
But not everyone blended into the rhythm.
Elio didn't move.
He was still watching Isabella, though from a careful distance. She was speaking to a few familiar guests with that quiet charm she always had. Nothing flashy, nothing loud. Just enough to make people lean in.
Maya hadn't left the floor either. She watched from a corner, smiling for anyone who looked her way, but her eyes kept drifting back to Elio. And the storm brewing in them hadn't settled.
The party had begun, but the real tension in the room wasn't about champagne or business deals, the clinking of glasses, the soft laughter, it all blurred for Elio.
His eyes remained trained on Isabella, even as he tried to play the part, smiling politely when spoken to, nodding through empty conversations with executives he barely registered. His mind was somewhere else.
A hand suddenly brushed his arm.
"Elio," Maya said, appearing beside him again, this time with a dazzling smile. "Dance with me."
He looked at her, sharp and unreadable. "I'm not in the mood."
Maya laughed softly, brushing it off like a joke. "Come on. It's just a dance."
He said nothing.
"Or is it only Isabella who gets your attention tonight?"
That made his jaw clench.
He turned fully to face her, lowering his voice. "Don't push it, Maya."
But Maya smiled wider. "Too late."
Before he could react, she took his hand and tugged him toward the dance floor, just as the tempo shifted into something slow and smooth. Cameras subtly turned, and whispers picked up. People were watching, including Isabella.
Elio moved stiffly at first, one hand resting lightly on Maya's waist, the other holding hers. His posture was perfect, his steps effortless, but his presence? Distant and Detached.