6:02 PM
The living room was bathed in soft golden light, the last rays of the setting sun streaming through the tall windows and casting long shadows across the floors. Bella sat on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling absently through her social dia feed.
But her mind wasn’t on the posts or the photos or the endless stream of updates from unknown people. Her mind was elsewhere, on the evening ahead, on the dinner, on whether Leo would actually show up after his cryptic response to her text earlier. He’d sent a single word: Maybe. Typical.
She sighed softly, setting her phone aside.
Tonight, she’d dressed carefully.
She was wearing a blue dress, a deep, midnight blue that caught the light and shifted with every movent, sowhere between sapphire and navy. It fell just above her knees, fitted at the waist, flaring slightly as she walked. The neckline was modest but teasing, a soft scoop that showed off the delicate line of her collarbones. Sleeveless, with thin straps that made her shoulders look elegant and bare.
Her hair was open tonight, falling in loose, glossy waves around her shoulders and down her back. She’d spent extra ti with the curling iron, creating soft bends that caught the light and frad her face. A few strands were pinned back on one side with a small gold clip, simple and elegant, letting her face be the focus.
And as for makeup, she did light makeup: light foundation that made her skin look flawless but natural, a touch of blush on her cheekbones, mascara that made her brown eyes look larger, deeper, more luminous, and a subtle shimr on her eyelids that caught the light when she blinked.
But her lips were red. Deep, classic, bold red. The kind of red that demanded attention. She’d tested three different shades before settling on this one, a rich, matte crimson that made her look confident, striking, unforgettable.
Her ears held small gold hoops that peeked through her hair, catching the light. On her wrist, a thin gold bracelet Leo had given her months ago, a simple chain with a tiny charm shaped like a crescent moon.
Her nails were painted a soft, neutral pink, clean and fresh against the boldness of her lips.
She looked stunning, and she knew it.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence. 6:02 PM. She checked her phone again. No new ssages from Leo.
She wasn’t waiting for him, though. She was waiting for Jay.
They’d planned to go together, drive to the dinner together, arrive together. Jay had insisted. "We’ll make an entrance," he’d said earlier, winking. "Let everyone wonder what we’re up to."
She smiled at the mory, settling deeper into the couch.
Her phone buzzed. She grabbed it quickly, heart jumping, but it was just a notification from a shopping app. She set it back down with a small sigh.
Where was he? Jay had said he’d be ready by six, but she knew him. "Ready by six" ant "starting to get ready at six." Still, the minutes were ticking by, and she was growing impatient.
She smoothed the skirt of her dress, checking her reflection in the dark screen of her phone. Her lips were still perfect, her hair still in place. She tucked a strand behind her ear, the gold hoop catching the light.
And then she heard footsteps.
Bella’s head turned toward the sound.
The footsteps grew louder. Closer. And then Jay appeared at the top of the stairs, and Bella’s mouth fell open.
Her phone slipped from her fingers, landing softly on the couch cushion beside her.
Her first thought was: Who is that?
Her second thought was: Oh my God.
Jay’s hair was dark.
Not pink. Not the bright, cheerful, unmistakable pink she’d known since the day she t him. That pink had been his signature, his trademark, the first thing anyone noticed about him. It had scread fun, playful, unapologetic.
But now it was dark. A rich, deep, espresso brown that caught the light and made him look different. Older and sharper. The color was natural, understated, nothing like the loud pink she was used to. It was styled simply, pushed back from his forehead, showing the clean lines of his face, the strong brow, the sharp jaw she’d never fully noticed before because the pink had always been the first thing she saw.
He was wearing a fitted charcoal suit, tailored perfectly to his lean fra. The jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a crisp white shirt beneath, the top two buttons undone just enough to be casual. No tie. No pocket square. Just clean lines and sharp angles.
His shoes were black, polished to a mirror shine. A simple silver watch glinted at his wrist.
He looked like Leo’s brother.
Although he didn’t look exactly the sa as Leo, since Jay got most of Lina’s features, while Leo got his dad’s features.
His features were softer, his build slighter, his energy different. But standing there in that suit, with that dark hair, the resemblance was unmistakable. The Moretti bone structure. The Moretti intensity. The Moretti handsoness that had been hiding under years of pink hair and playful grins.
He looked handso. Actually, genuinely, devastatingly handso.
"Oh my god," Bella breathed, rising from the couch. Her heels clicked against the floor as she stood, her hand pressing to her chest. "Jay. You look superb. Handso. Really, really handso."
His hand ca up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous gesture she recognized from a hundred conversations. His cheeks were slightly pink, the only pink left on him now.
"Thanks, Bella Bell," he mumbled, his eyes darting away. "I feel weird, though. Really weird. Like I’m wearing soone else’s face."
He took a few steps down, then stopped, running a hand through his now-dark hair. The gesture was the sa as always, fingers raking through, pushing it back, but with the new color, it looked different in a good way. More handso.
"I’ve had dyed hair since I was sixteen," he said, still not quite eting her eyes. "Sixteen or seventeen, I can’t rember exactly. I liked the pink. I liked how it looked, how it felt. It was mine, you know? Mine. Not my family’s, not anyone else’s. Just mine. So I kept it. For years. Through everything."
He finally looked at her, and there was sothing vulnerable in his eyes.
"But then I thought—" He stopped, laughed nervously. "Jace said I looked childish. And cute. Which is fine! I an, I like being cute. I don’t have a problem with cute. Cute is great. Cute gets you things. Cute makes people underestimate you." He was babbling now, words tumbling out. "But I’m not a teenager anymore, you know? I’m a grown man. I have responsibilities. I work with dangerous people. I date a dangerous person." Another nervous laugh. "Maybe I want to be called dangerous and sexy too, sotis. Maybe I’m tired of being the cute one."
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