He walked to the rack himself, his expensive shoes silent on the marble floor. His hands moved over the fabrics with surprising gentleness, fingers testing textures with the care of someone who understood quality. They stopped on a deep red gown hanging like liquid fire among the other dresses. Simple. Elegant. Dangerous.
"This one," he said, lifting it from the rack and extending it toward Isabella. The silk caught the light, seeming to glow from within.
"But Mr. De Luca," the saleswoman protested, her voice taking on a nervous edge, "that's quite expensive"
His look silenced her mid-sentence, the temperature in the room seeming to drop several degrees.
