I pace nervously around Stefano’s penthouse, my fingers twisting together as I try to calm my racing heart. I thought telling my parents about my pregnancy was nerve-wracking, but this is a whole new level of anxiety churning inside me.
Stefano refused to see me at his office earlier. I’m sure he assumes I’m here to beg him to take me back, unaware of the real reason I need to speak with him so urgently. Thankfully, with Samuel’s help, I was able to get into Stefano’s place here in sun-drenched Sicily to wait for his return.
Restless with anticipation, I wander through Stefano’s penthouse to pass the time, my heels clicking against the polished floors. Though I’ve never been here before, I’m eager to drink in every detail of the space he inhabits.
I start in the sleek, modern kitchen, trailing my fingers along the cool marble countertops. Stainless steel appliances gleam under the recessed lighting, everything pristine and precise, much like the man himself. I can almost picture him m
