[IRAYA]
"Miss, we need to ask you to leave," one of them said, his voice polite but firm as he towered over .
I could've made a scene. I could've fought back. But what would've been the point? Irritating the guards of a mafia empire wasn't exactly on my to-do list tonight.
Shrugging, I offered a careless smile. "Gladly."
I was already preparing to take my first step toward the exit, determined not to let the guards drag away and create an unnecessary scene, when a sudden announcent halted in my tracks.
"Ladies and gentlen, please welco Mr. De Santis."
The air shifted. Conversations hushed, and all eyes turned to the grand entrance. A spotlight illuminated an elderly man who exuded an aura of wealth, power, and elegance.
Mr. De Santis carried himself with a regal presence, every movent confident and commanding attention. Despite his age, his physique was impressive—broad-shouldered and fit, like a seasoned model from a vintage n's magazine. He had a dandy air about him, right down to the cigar resting between his fingers, adding a rebellious charm to his otherwise immaculate image.
Gold and diamond rings adorned his hands, catching the light as he lifted the cigar and casually exhaled a puff of smoke. Though the venue was dimly lit, he wore dark sunglasses, adding to his mystique. His beard, a perfect blend of white and black, was neatly grood, framing his sharp features with an ageless sophistication that made it clear why people respected—and feared—him.
The won around —young and old, single and married alike—seed to hold their breath. So subtly fanned themselves with whatever they could find, while others whispered in awe, their gazes locked on the enigmatic figure.
It wasn't just his wealth or reputation that commanded attention; it was the sheer magnetism he radiated. He didn't need to speak loudly or make grand gestures. His re presence was enough to make the room feel smaller, as though everything now revolved around him.
And then, as if to complete the scene, Lyander appeared by his side.
Even in a room filled with the elite, Lyander stood out, his striking looks drawing as much attention as the man next to him. He had inherited his father's dangerously handso features—sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and a charisma that seed effortless. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, he moved with the sa quiet confidence, as though born to rule.
But it wasn't just Lyander who caught the crowd's attention. On his arm was a woman so stunning she seed almost unreal. Her long, jet-black hair flowed like silk, gleaming under the chandelier lights, while her flawless skin seed to glow against the dark fabric of her elegant gown.
She wasn't just beautiful; she was captivating, with a presence that demanded attention in a way that didn't feel forced. Every curve, every detail of her appearance, was perfect, as if she had stepped out of a dream designed to dazzle.
I couldn't help but stare. She moved with grace and confidence, the kind of woman who didn't need to compete with others because she knew exactly where she stood—at the top.
Now, it all made sense. Lyander's dangerously striking looks, his confidence, and his ability to draw people in—it all ca from his father. Mr. De Santis wasn't just a man of wealth and influence; he was a legend in his own right. The kind of man who, despite his age, could still make hearts flutter and commands obeyed with just a glance.
A murmur spread through the crowd as they watched the powerful pair—father and son—enter. Even the guards who had been preparing to escort out paused, suddenly unsure.
After all, in the presence of Mr. De Santis, nothing moved without his say-so.
Our gazes t halfway across the room. Lyander flashed that signature smirk of his—mischievous, daring, and carrying that infuriating glint in his eyes, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking and was already amused by it.
I quickly averted my gaze, my heart doing an uncomfortable little flip I wasn't prepared for. I didn't belong here. I didn't know why he had invited , but since he'd already seen , my role—whatever it was—felt complete.
Ti to leave before I got caught up in sothing ridiculous. I turned toward the exit, ready to slip out and head back to my apartnt.
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But then, just as I took a step, a deep, raspy voice rolled through the air, commanding attention like thunder breaking across a silent sky.
"This is my son, Lyander, and his fiancée, Flor." Mr. De Santis's voice carried a note of finality, as though it was a decree no one would dare question. "That's right, you heard correctly. I'll take this opportunity to formally announce their engagent."
The room erupted into polite applause, and I was already checking out, ntally planning which takeout to order for dinner when I got ho. Honestly, I couldn't care less about their fancy engagent. Flor looked gorgeous, Lyander was his usual smug self—end of story. My cue to leave.
Or so I thought.
The applause hadn't even fully died down when Lyander suddenly yanked his hand out of Flor's grasp. The sudden motion was sharp enough to draw every pair of eyes in the room, silencing the crowd. And before anyone could react, he reached over and snatched the microphone from his father's hand.
"There won't be any engagent," Lyander said smoothly, grinning from ear to ear as though he had just announced tomorrow's weather forecast. His tone was light, almost playful, completely at odds with the bombshell he had just dropped.
A collective gasp rippled through the room like a wave. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Mr. De Santis's expression hardened, and his eyes narrowed in disbelief.
"Lyander, what are you saying?" His father's voice held an edge, the kind that warned him not to push further. "We've already discussed this."
Lyander shrugged, still holding that devil-may-care grin. "Yeah, Pops, we did. The deal was that I'd marry whoever you chose for if I didn't have a serious girlfriend by Christmas. But . . . turns out, I do."
The room fell into stunned silence. Every head turned toward Lyander, eyes wide with shock, mouths hanging open in disbelief. Even Flor was frozen, her perfect smile wiped clean off her face.
Flor finally found her voice. "Excuse ?" she spluttered, her tone a mixture of disbelief and indignation.
But no one paid her any attention. All eyes remained locked on Lyander, curiosity crackling in the air like static electricity.
Even Mr. De Santis seed montarily thrown off. Then, regaining his composure, he leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with interest. "Really?" he asked, his voice slower now, tinged with intrigue. "Who?"
I had no interest in Lyander's complicated personal life, but I'll admit—I was curious. Who was this mystery woman? This bad-boy playboy who never seed to take anything seriously suddenly had soone he was claiming to be serious about? That was newsworthy.
But then it happened. His eyes t mine—steady, unflinching—and I felt a sudden chill run down my spine, the kind you get right before disaster strikes.
And before I could even process the sinking feeling in my gut, he raised a finger and pointed directly at .
"Her," Lyander said, his voice carrying across the room with ease. "Iraya Lee. I'm going to marry her."
The world tilted. Ti seed to slow, and for a split second, I swore the room had stopped spinning. My heart slamd against my ribcage, and my brain scrambled to process what I had just heard.
? Marry him? What in the world was he thinking?!
Every head in the room turned toward , their gazes searing through my skin. Flor looked like she might combust on the spot. Mr. De Santis arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by this unexpected twist.
And Lyander? He looked completely at ease, as though he had just solved all his problems with a single, outrageous declaration.
I opened my mouth, maybe to deny it, maybe to yell at him—I wasn't sure which. But nothing ca out. Words failed entirely. I was too busy reeling from the fact that I had just been turned into Lyander De Santis's fiancée in front of half the city's elite without so much as a warning.
One thing was clear, though—Lyander wasn't just dangerous because of his looks. He was dangerous because he could throw your entire world off balance with a single smirk and a few well-placed words.
And sohow, I had just beco the center of his latest, most outrageous ga yet.
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