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Rio’s face remains controlled. No expression shifts. No eyebrow lifts. No visible judgment. A brief silence follows. Not awkward. Not uncertain. A silence Rio chooses.

Then Rio nods. “Let’s eat.”

Shiaou brings the food right on time and carries it without fuss. He sets the plates down; steak, roasted vegetables, and a rich sauce. Clean presentation. Everything meant to feel normal.

Alessio leans back in his chair with a glass in hand. “So,” he says, eyes sliding to Lana, “how old are you, Lana?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She cuts into her food, unhurried, then looks up at him with a smile. “Old enough to know better.”

He laughs. “That wasn’t the question.”

“It was the answer,” she says, teasing.

Alessio’s still watching Lana. “You always this mysterious, or is it a special occasion?”

Lana shrugs one shoulder. “Depends who’s asking.”

“I like a woman who keeps her cards close,” he says. “Makes the table more interesting.”

I take a sip of my drink. “Alessio, thanks to you, the club’s healthier than it’s ever been.”

“Exactly,” Alessio says. “And success deserves celebration.” He lifts his glass toward Lana. “Especially with a company like this.”

She clinks her glass lightly against his. “Careful,” she says. “You might start believing this is a party.”

His smile widens. “Isn’t it?”

She laughs, soft and bright. “Tonight? Sure.”

Alessio glances at Rio, looking for a sign, then lets his gaze drift back to Lana, lingering on her dress.

“Doesn’t hurt to enjoy the view.”

Lana tilts her head. “You sound like a man who thinks he belongs here.”

Alessio grins. “I do, don’t I?”

For a moment, the room holds the lie. We let him think he belongs. The champagne bottle empties. Rio opens another. The cork pops. Alessio’s posture loosens. He even laughs.

“You two never host,” he says, lifting his glass toward us. “Not like this.”

Rio’s gaze rests on him. “Tonight is different.”

Alessio smiles wider. “I can see.”

Lana brushes her hair back, the yellow strap slides down her arm, revealing her bare shoulder. Alessio’s eyes ogle for a good moment. Then he takes a sip like he’s winning.

Rio waits until we’re mid-meal, until Alessio has swallowed comfort and trust. Then he places his fork down neatly and wipes his mouth with the napkin.

“We’re celebrating,” Rio says.

Alessio’s smile lingers, then cools. “Lana’s birthday?”

“No.” Rio holds his gaze. “Sorrentino’s will.”

“Oh? Did it finally go through?” Excitement flashes in Alessio’s eyes.

“The will is void, Alessio.” I say.