The music was loud enough to shake the walls.
Colored lights flashed across the crowded room, painting everything in shades of red, purple, and blue. Expensive perfume mixed with the smell of alcohol, while laughter and drunken conversations filled every corner of the luxurious nightclub.
But Dante Moretti heard none of it.
He sat in the most secluded corner of the VIP section, one ankle resting over his knee, a glass of untouched whiskey sitting between his fingers.
His expression was cold.
His black suit was perfectly tailored, his dark hair neatly styled, and the expensive watch around his wrist alone cost more than most people in the club earned in a year.
Nobody dared approach him.
Nobody except the doctor sitting across from him.
"Mr. Moretti," Dr. Hayes said carefully, adjusting his glasses, "I've gone through your latest test results."
Dante lifted his eyes.
"And?"
The doctor hesitated.
"Your condition hasn't improved."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"I didn't ask whether it improved."
Dr. Hayes swallowed.
"You asked what can be done."
"Yes."
The doctor lowered his voice.
"Unfortunately, there isn't much."
Dante's fingers tightened around the glass.
For years, women had been a problem he couldn't explain.
It hadn't always been that way.
The first serious reaction had happened when he was twenty-one. A woman had touched his arm during a business dinner.
Within seconds, his skin had broken out in violent red rashes.
His breathing became difficult.
His throat began closing.
Since then, it had only become worse.
Different women triggered different reactions. Sometimes it was simply a rash. Other times, touching him caused swelling, dizziness, vomiting, or severe breathing problems.
And nobody had been able to explain why.
Dr. Hayes cleared his throat.
"Your body seems to react specifically to prolonged physical contact with women."
"I know."
"We've tested allergies, autoimmune disorders, toxins, medications, psychological triggers..."
"And?"
"Nothing explains it completely."
Dante's eyes darkened.
The doctor leaned forward.
"Mr. Moretti, I need you to understand something. This is extremely rare."
"How rare?"
"Rare enough that I've never personally treated another case like yours."
Dante scoffed.
"So I'm special."
The doctor didn't smile.
"I'm saying you may have to live with it."
Silence.
Then Dante asked coldly, "Forever?"
Dr. Hayes hesitated.
"It's possible."
Dante looked away.
For a man who controlled businesses, politicians, underground operations, and half the city's criminal network, there was one thing he couldn't control.
His own body.
The doctor continued.
"And because your reactions are becoming stronger, I strongly recommend that you avoid unnecessary physical contact with women."
Dante's mouth curved into a humorless smile.
"That's never been difficult."
Dr. Hayes looked uncomfortable.
"There is one more thing."
Dante's eyes returned to him.
"What?"
"Finding someone whose presence doesn't trigger the reaction may be extremely difficult."
Dante stared at him.
"Someone?"
"A woman."
The word sounded almost ridiculous.
Dr. Hayes sighed.
"If there is a woman whose body chemistry doesn't trigger your immune response, she could theoretically be safe for you."
Dante laughed quietly.
"You make it sound like I'm searching for a cure."
"Perhaps you are."
Dante's expression immediately hardened.
"I don't need a woman."
Dr. Hayes said nothing.
Dante picked up his whiskey.
"I need my body to stop betraying me."
Before the doctor could respond, one of Dante's guards approached.
"Boss."
Dante glanced at him.
"The girls are here."
Dante's expression immediately became irritated.
"I didn't ask for them."
His friend, Marco, who had been sitting silently nearby, laughed.
"You didn't have to. The club sent them."
Dante shot him a warning look.
Marco raised both hands.
"Relax."
The music suddenly changed.
Several women entered the VIP area.
They were dressed for the nightclub, smiling confidently as they approached the table.
Dante's face became expressionless.
One woman stepped toward him.
"Hello."
She reached for his shoulder.
The moment her fingers touched him—
Dante jerked violently.
His skin burned.
Red marks immediately appeared along his neck.
His breathing became uneven.
"Get away from him!"
One of the guards rushed forward.
The woman froze.
Another woman tried to step closer.
"What's happening?"
"Don't touch him!"
The guards immediately moved between Dante and the women.
Dante gritted his teeth.
His hand pressed against his neck as his skin continued to burn.
Marco stood up.
"Everyone out."
"But—"
"NOW!"
The women hurried away.
Dante's guards escorted them from the VIP section.
Marco turned toward him.
"You okay?"
Dante didn't answer.
Dr. Hayes was already reaching for his medical bag.
"This reaction is stronger than before."
Dante's eyes flashed dangerously.
"I noticed."
Then his gaze moved toward the entrance.
"Everyone out."
Marco frowned.
"Boss—"
"I said everyone."
Within seconds, the VIP area became quiet.
Dante leaned back and closed his eyes.
He hated this.
He hated being weak.
He hated needing medication.
Most of all, he hated the way people looked at him whenever his condition appeared.
Fear.
Pity.
Curiosity.
He wanted none of it.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the club—
Lily Carter was trying very hard not to cry.
She stood behind the bar, staring nervously at the tray in her hands.
This was her first night.
And she already wanted to run.
Her fingers trembled.
"Just breathe," she whispered to herself.
She was twenty years old.
A college student.
A daughter.
And, unfortunately, the only person standing between her sick mother and death.
Her mother had once owned a successful company.
She had built it from nothing.
But after she became sick, Lily's father had walked away.
He married another woman.
Then everything changed.
The new wife had convinced Lily's father to take control of the company.
Within months, Lily's mother had lost almost everything she had worked her entire life to build.
Now she was lying in a hospital bed.
The doctors had warned Lily that her mother's treatment couldn't continue without payment.
The amount they needed was enormous.
Lily had tried everywhere.
Restaurants.
Stores.
Tutoring.
Part-time jobs.
Nothing paid enough.
Until tonight.
The club manager had offered her work serving drinks.
It wasn't the kind of place Lily would normally enter.
But desperation had no room for pride.
She looked down at the tray.
"Just get through tonight."
A manager pointed toward the VIP section.
"Take those drinks upstairs."
Lily's heart dropped.
"The VIP?"
"Yes."
"But I'm new."
"Then learn quickly."
She swallowed.
"Okay."
She picked up the tray.
Her hands were already sweating.
As she walked toward the VIP section, she tried to avoid looking at anyone.
Unfortunately, one of the waiters bumped into her.
The tray tilted.
Lily gasped.
"Sorry!"
She steadied the glasses and hurried forward.
When she reached the VIP table, she carefully placed the drinks down.
One glass remained.
She turned.
Her elbow accidentally hit the wine bottle.
The bottle tipped.
Red wine spilled directly across the black suit of the man sitting at the center of the table.
Lily froze.
Her entire body went cold.
"Oh my God."
The man slowly lowered his glass.
His eyes lifted.
Dark.
Cold.
Terrifying.
Lily knew immediately.
She had made a terrible mistake.
"I'm so sorry."
Nobody spoke.
One of the guards stepped forward.
"Do you know what you've done?"
Lily's lips trembled.
"I—I didn't mean to."
Dante looked down at his stained suit.
Then back at her.
"Come here."
Lily's heart pounded.
She slowly stepped forward.
"I'll clean it."
She grabbed a napkin and leaned toward his jacket.
The moment her fingers touched the fabric—
Nothing happened.
Dante's eyes narrowed.
He waited.
No burning.
No rash.
No swelling.
No difficulty breathing.
Nothing.
Lily continued wiping the wine from his jacket, completely unaware of what had just happened.
Dante stared at her hand.
Impossible.
He had been touched.
And he was fine.
Lily noticed the strange expression on his face.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll pay for the cleaning."
Dante didn't answer.
She became even more nervous.
"I really am sorry."
Then, as she stepped backward, her heel caught on the edge of the carpet.
"Oh!"
Her body lost balance.
The tray slipped from her hand.
And before she could hit the floor—
Dante caught her.
Her body landed against his chest.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Dante froze.
Lily's hands instinctively grabbed his shoulders.
Her face was only inches from his.
She looked frightened.
Dante stared at her.
Waiting.
Waiting for the pain.
Waiting for his skin to burn.
Waiting for the violent reaction that always came whenever a woman touched him.
Nothing.
Not even a single rash.
His eyes widened slightly.
Lily looked up at him.
"Are you okay?"
Dante didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because for the first time in his entire adult life—
a woman was touching him, and his body wasn't rejecting her.
And somehow, that frightened him more than any enemy ever had.
