Hidden Passions

Chapter 1

Alyssa Martinez

I look around and feel like fish on dry land. I have no idea what I was thinking when I agreed to come to a party thrown by a fashion model. Even though he is my best friend. I take a deep breath, trying to keep my trembling body under control. I can't help but admire all the arrangements. Everywhere glasses full of rosy champagne and plates of various exquisite snacks.

As soon as I enter my friend's flat, I am greeted by the voices of the guests and their contagious cheerfulness. But what amazes me every time are the large pictures on the walls, depicting my friend. In different poses. From the hall to the large living room - whose marble floor mirrors the steps of the guests - my friend's eyes follow me from all directions. In the black and white photos, I admire him sometimes on the streets of New York, gracefully wearing a three-piece suit and portraying the businessman, sometimes in a bar, with friends, or even on the catwalk of a fashion show. As I look for him through the crowd of constantly moving bodies, I hear my name.

"Alyssa!" A warm voice makes me feel at home.

I turn in the direction of the sound and see my friend, Carlo Di Angeli. I take a few moments to admire him. He is a handsome man by any standards. Plus, he's a smart guy. But what makes women swoon over him is his charm and gallant attitude towards them.

I sigh sadly. I don't know why I can't fall in love with a man like him. But I already know the answer. He's a reckless guy, a regular Don Juan. And I get along with him too well to ruin our friendship with a love affair.

I shake my brown curls that tickle the middle of my bare back as I watch him walk towards me with his arms outstretched and that smooth, confident walk on him. I reach out my arms to him and let myself be engulfed in his warm embrace. It feels so good to be protected and I always feel that way with him.

"My dear," he begins with the Italian accent that he couldn't or didn't want to get rid of, even though he's already been living in New York for five years. "What must I go through to get you out of the house!" he exclaims dramatically.

I hear him chuckle as he pushes me back a bit to scrutinize me. I can see his brows furrow above his phenomenal blue eyes.

"You are not well. No, no. You don't look good at all. But" he continues, and I see him looking at me like he's up to something, "I've got something that will definitely bring you out of your shell."

"Oh, no!" I exclaim downright scared at that thought. He made a fool of me once. "It won't work this time, you know," I continue as I pull away from him completely.

I have to distance myself. He has a way of making me accept all his propositions, especially when he looks at me with those puppy eyes. Like he does now.

A slight gasp escapes from between my rabid, red-painted lips that he likes so much. He says it brings out the emerald green of my eyes. But I know better. I am not a beautiful woman. With these words and beliefs, I grew up and no one will ever make me think otherwise. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. There are so many beautiful women around me... I envy them for their self-confidence.

"You are beautiful tonight," Carlo tells me in his soft and warm voice.

I can feel his gaze upon my body. I'm wearing a champagne-colored lurex dress, which covers me almost completely. Only the daring neckline of the back gives a sexy touch to my outfit. I didn't have the heart to refuse his gift.

"You are a special woman," he continues and plants a light kiss on my cheek.

I hang my head in shame because I don't like being the center of attention. But now I am, because I see out of the corner of my eye how the guests look at us with interest.