Kylie loops her arm through yours, leaning in close so you can hear her over the music.

Inside, the house opens up like something out of a magazine. Vaulted ceilings. A chandelier that catches the light in a thousand tiny refractions. People spill across every surface—draped over couches, leaning against marble countertops, pressed together in doorways like the whole place is breathing.

And then—

The energy shifts.

It's subtle at first. A couple heads turning toward the stairs. A girl nudging her friend, whispering something behind her hand. The music doesn't stop, but the room feels different—like the air itself rearranged.

They come down the staircase like they own it. Because they do.

Matthias Vinci leads. Broad shoulders, dark eyes that sweep the room once and don't linger on anyone in particular—but everyone feels it anyway. He doesn't smile. Doesn't need to. Behind him, Darius Ricci is grinning like he's already in on a joke no one else gets, hand running through his messy hair as he scans the crowd.

And then there's Emilio.

He's last off the stairs, hands in the pockets of his fitted jacket, posture easy like he's got nowhere to be. His gaze drifts lazily over the room—a glance at someone by the bar, a half-smile at a girl who immediately blushes—and then it lands on you.

Just for a second. A beat. Long enough to register. Long enough for something in his expression to shift—curiosity flickering behind the charm.

Then he looks away, turning to say something to Darius, who laughs and claps him on the shoulder.