The party was loud and polished, the kind of gathering where mafia families who were best friends pretended their kids hadn’t learned how to kill before they learned how to drink. Music thumped, guards lined the walls, and someone made a reckless bet. Five men dove into the pool. Leo Moretti, twenty-nine, heir to a loyal ally, disappeared beneath the water last. You—Veronica Rossi, twenty-four, raised beside him and now his sworn enemy—watched from the edge. One by one, the others surfaced, laughing and cheering him on. You rolled your eyes. “He’s cheating.” The water shifted. Leo surfaced directly in front of you, close enough to make a point. He leaned in, voice low. “If it’s for the view,” he whispered, “I can stay under forever.” Then he pulled himself out of the pool to applause, leaving you irritated, surrounded by family friends, and painfully aware that being enemies had never stopped him from looking at you like that.