3 - First Encounter

The Bruno mansion looked like it had been dipped in gold that evening. Warm lights glowed through the windows, laughter drifted from the drawing room, and the faint scent of lilies floated through the air.

Tonight wasn’t just another visit.

Tonight, the De Lucas were coming to discuss the engagement — and for the first time, Marcello and Felicia were going to spend time alone.

Felicia had barely slept the night before. Her heart wouldn’t settle — half from nervousness, half from something she couldn’t quite name. Every time she remembered Marcello’s calm voice from the night in the garden, the way he’d called her Little Petal, she felt her stomach twist in that fluttery way that made no sense.

Her brother Dante noticed her nervous energy as she paced the hallway.

“Felicia,” he teased, leaning on the doorframe, “you’ve checked your reflection at least ten times. Planning to outshine the chandelier tonight?”

She turned, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just… want to look presentable.”

“Presentable, hmm?” Dante smirked. “You mean you want to look perfect for him.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Dante!”

He laughed, dodging the small pillow she threw at him. “Alright, alright. Just don’t forget to breathe, Little Sister. He’s human, not carved from marble.”

“Are you sure?” she muttered under her breath, thinking of Marcello’s calm, chiseled face and unreadable eyes.

When the De Luca cars arrived, the air seemed to change. Marcello stepped out first again — black suit, white shirt, his dark hair slightly tousled, giving him an effortlessly intimidating kind of charm.

He was greeted by Alessandro and Luna first, and his respect toward them — formal, polite, old-fashioned — made them both smile approvingly.

Lucia soon began chatting with Luna, and within minutes, the elders had found their rhythm of laughter and conversation. That left Marcello standing near the hallway… until Luna smiled and said,

“Felicia, why don’t you show Marcello the new garden you designed? It’s lovely this time of evening.”

Felicia froze for a heartbeat, but then nodded, her voice soft. “Of course, Mamma.”

The garden was bathed in twilight, petals shimmering under the faint orange glow of lanterns. She led the way, her dress brushing against the path, while Marcello followed — quiet but observant.

After a few moments of silence, he said lightly, “You’re nervous.”

She blinked, glancing back at him. “What makes you think that?”

He smirked. “You’ve been walking in a straight line for two minutes and haven’t looked at a single flower. And I heard you sigh twice.”

Her lips curved. “Maybe I was just making sure you were keeping up.”

Marcello raised a brow. “Oh? Are you suggesting I’m slow?”

Her eyes sparkled for the first time that evening. “Not slow. Just… tall. It must be difficult to walk at a normal person’s pace.”

He chuckled quietly — a deep, rich sound that made her chest warm. “So the quiet Little Petal has a sense of humor. I was beginning to wonder.”

She looked away, trying to hide her smile. “Maybe I just needed to be comfortable first.”

“Then I’ll try not to scare you,” he said, his tone playfully teasing. “Though I can’t make promises. I’ve been told I’m… intense.”

Felicia tilted her head. “Intense? No. You’re just… composed. Maybe too composed. Do you ever laugh without thinking first?”

Marcello stopped walking for a moment, pretending to ponder her words. “Hmm. Rarely.”

“Figures.”

He grinned. “Careful, Little Petal. Keep teasing your future husband like that and I might start to think you’re flirting.”

She stopped, her eyes widening slightly. “I—I wasn’t—”

He chuckled again, stepping closer, though not too close. “Relax. I was joking.”

Felicia exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but you smiled. That’s progress.”

They reached the gazebo near the end of the garden — the same one where she often sat sketching designs. The wind played with her hair as she sat down on the bench, motioning for him to sit beside her.

“Do you always study people so closely?” she asked, glancing sideways.

“Only the ones I’m curious about.”

She raised a brow. “And how curious are you about me, Mr. De Luca?”

He looked at her, eyes glinting. “Dangerously.”

She laughed softly, but her heart skipped. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

“It’s a promise,” he said simply.

Her breath caught, though she hid it well. She looked down at her hands. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“I don’t believe in pretending,” he replied. “You’ll learn that about me soon enough.”

“Well,” she said, recovering her composure, “in that case, I should warn you I don’t like being bossed around.”

He leaned back slightly, a teasing smile curving his lips. “Is that so? I’ll keep that in mind… though I might forget on purpose.”

Felicia gasped in mock offense. “That’s not very gentlemanly.”

“I’m not always a gentleman,” he said with a hint of mischief. “But I’ll try for you.”

Her laughter rang out, soft and genuine this time. “You’re better at this than I expected.”

“At what?”

“Making people comfortable,” she said quietly. “Making me comfortable.”

He watched her for a moment before answering, his voice low. “That’s because I meant what I said last night. I don’t take what isn’t willing. And I don’t want a wife who fears me.”

Her heart softened. “I don’t fear you.”

His gaze deepened. “Good. Because the world I live in can be… harsh. I’d rather you see me as something safe.”

Felicia tilted her head, her tone gentle but firm. “I don’t want safe. I want real.”

Marcello’s lips curved into something almost like admiration. “Then I’ll give you real, Little Petal.”

They stayed there for a long while — talking about their families, childhood memories, small things that made them laugh.

Felicia learned he secretly liked Italian opera, that Cecelia once tried to set him up with a model and he’d run from the restaurant halfway through dinner.

“You ran away?” she asked, giggling.

He grimaced. “In my defense, she talked about herself for forty minutes and called me Marco.”

Felicia laughed until her sides hurt. “Oh no. Poor Marco.”

He smirked. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Maybe a little.”

Her laughter softened into a quiet smile, and for a moment, they just looked at each other — not as strangers, not even as two people bound by their families, but as two souls quietly finding something that made sense.

Marcello’s expression turned thoughtful. “You know, you look different when you laugh.”

She blinked. “Different?”

“Yes,” he said softly. “Less shy. More alive.”

Felicia hesitated, then smiled again — smaller this time. “Then maybe you should make me laugh more often.”

He leaned in just slightly, his voice low. “Careful what you ask for, Little Petal. I might take that as a challenge.”

“Maybe you should,” she whispered back.

When they finally walked back toward the house, the stars had begun to bloom across the sky.

From the terrace, their mothers watched them approach, both hiding knowing smiles.

Felicia felt lighter than she had in weeks. Something between them had shifted — subtly, quietly, but undeniably.

Marcello glanced at her as they reached the doorway. “You did well tonight,” he murmured.

She frowned playfully. “Did well? What are we, in a job interview?”

He chuckled. “No. But if you were, you’d have been hired immediately.”

Felicia rolled her eyes, hiding her smile. “You really like teasing me, don’t you?”

He leaned closer, his voice soft. “Only you, Little Petal.”

And as he said it, she realized something she hadn’t before — his teasing wasn’t just playfulness. It was protection, comfort, affection disguised as charm.

And as he held the door open for her, his quiet glance told her something words hadn’t yet:

he wasn’t just agreeing to this marriage out of duty.

He was choosing her.

✨ End Of The Chapter ✨

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