3. Ginevra

Despite the tension, I felt totally at ease when I set foot inside the Bridge.

The nightclub was very sober, elegant, refined, with the walls covered with wallpaper in royal blue fabric with floral damask and golden patterns, which reflected the soft and warm lights of the hanging crystal chandeliers.

The tables were also dark but opaque, unlike the black African marble floor with gold streaks.

The music that the pianist was playing spread harmoniously through the air, forcing me to relax and enjoy that unique experience.

Lucky and Mike had us sit at a table with retro-style black leather sofas and armchairs.

The atmosphere was no doubt gloomy, but thanks to the lighting and the welcoming feeling all around us, it was impossible not to feel safe, welcome and ready to be pampered by the affable staff, immediately ready to rush to help at the slightest sign, without being intrusive or indiscreet.

"Where does that ladder lead to?" I asked Mike who had sat next to me.

"I have never been here, but they told me that upstairs there are private rooms and sleeping rooms. It is not a hotel, but Lorenzo Orlando wanted to create an area for those who needed to get rid of their hangover or came with a special person. Instead, in the basement there is a large room for special receptions and a pool table. I'm not sure what's going on down there, but someone thinks it's linked to the Orlando family's organized crime. Finally, on the second and top floor, I think it's the owner's apartment. "

"That way, he won't lose sight of his business," I said suspiciously.

"He's a man who likes to have full control."

"I got that."

"He is actually watching us right now."

"From his apartment?"

"No, from over there," he corrected me, nodding towards a raised space at the back of the room.

"Don't look at it! If he catches you, he may become suspicious and kick us out! "Mike scolded me, but I was too curious. I had never seen an Orlando in my life, and I was curious.

I scanned every person present at that table placed in a special position, which was accessed via a small staircase of six steps.

There were three men and five women.

The man on the left was working on his tablet and did not seem in the least attentive to the conversation of the guy on his right, who was hurrying to tell something funny that made all the women laugh.

I wondered which one was Lorenzo Orlando.

Maybe the one all focused on the tablet?

I moved my gaze to the right and my eyes met those of the third man.

In complete embarrassment for being caught staring at him, I looked down and went back to my friends who were ordering a Menabrea.

I ordered one too, without knowing what it was. I was still shaken by those gazing eyes.

Unable to control myself and concentrate on the conversation taking place at my table, I looked back at the man.

I winced when I noticed he was continuing to stare at me.

I was about to look away again, but a part of me decided to keep looking without showing my discomfort.

Also, I wanted to know! Was he the famous Lorenzo Orlando?

I kept my eyes fixed on his.

Although the light was dim, I noticed the amber color of his eyes. A full, ocher yellow color with copper streaks.

I had never seen eyes of that color and I was breathless.

They held something magnetic, fascinating, and catalyzing.

He is Lorenzo Orlando! I'm sure of it!

I stood there admiring him, letting my gaze flow over his square face, his tanned skin and the unkempt beard that shaded his jaw.

I was surprised. I had expected to find myself in front of a man all put together with careful details, intent in giving a perfect image of himself. And instead…

The hint of beard, unkempt brown hair, a slight hint of dark circles ... gave me more the impression of a man with experience, a man to whom life had not gifted everything, but who had had to struggle to make his mark.

That image fascinated and mesmerized me.

However, Lorenzo Orlando was definitely not a neglected man, excessively extravagant, with little attention to detail.

Everything seemed perfect in its imperfection and his dark silk suit matched the black shirt open on the front, giving him an aura of power that oozed from every pore.

He was brazenly irresistible. He sat at the table in a composed and controlled fashion, bringing his drink to his seductive mouth and looking at me. His behavior upset me and attracted me like a moth to fire.

Dangerous and bewitching like a devil.

That's what I thought of him.

I was still enthrallingly looking at him when I saw him raise his Manhattan and make a toast in my direction.

I felt my cheeks flare up and his seductive smile made me understand how readable my embarrassment was.

I sank with shame and quickly looked away.

I was so agitated that my heart was throbbing in my throat.

The thought of being caught twice staring at a man I should never even have met made me want to run away.

Ginevra, you are playing with fire!

I looked at the top of my table and found myself in front of a mug of beer.

Menabrea, the Italian beer brand, was stamped on the glass.

I made a face.

I hated beer.

Unable to do anything, I finally decided to listen to Mike who started talking to me about his ex-girlfriend, he had been dating for four years.

I feigned interest in the story for a long time.

In fact, my mind kept going back to that man a few meters away, and his golden hypnotic eyes.

Unfortunately, after fifteen minutes, I was so bored that, without being able to stop myself, my gaze went to rest on Lorenzo Orlando again.

I could not understand how a man like him could harm a Rinaldi.

Even if I sensed a veil of darkness and aggression, Lorenzo seemed too controlled and relaxed to hurt anyone.

As if he had felt my gaze on him, suddenly I saw him turn towards me.

I noticed his gaze getting hard and suspicious and that took my breath.

Yes, Lorenzo Orlando was a dangerous man and suddenly I felt trapped.

I immediately went back to Mike and promised myself not to look in Lorenzo's direction anymore.