CINTAKU EKSKLUSIF

1

Emilia

Fuck my life.

The plane hadn’t even taken off, and already something in my chest whispered that Italy would destroy me in ways I wouldn’t forget.

“Would you like anything to drink, miss?”, The air hostess asked me again

I shook my head and kept my focus on the clouds, on anything but the fact that my life had just been ripped from my hands.

She hesitated, then sighed softly. “Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

I heard her footsteps fade down the aisle, leaving me alone with the ache sitting heavy in my chest.

My phone buzzed again, and the moment I saw his name, the tears came back all over again.

“I’m sorry, principessa, but I promise it’s for the best. Love you always. —Dad.”

A tiny, broken laugh escaped me.

But what reason could it possibly be for the man who never laid a hand on a woman to slap me when I refused to leave America?

My phone buzzed again, and this time, the text actually made me smile.

“Bella, I can’t wait for you to get here. I promise the dick in Italy is better than the ones in America.”

Nora.

Of course.

Only she could send something that insane while I was mid–emotional breakdown on a nine-hour flight.

She was my childhood best friend, the only person who could text me nonsense like that without shame.

Her father and mine had been business partners for years and for someone with a big-shot lawyer as a father, she was extremely wild. It was exactly the kind of energy I needed if I was going to survive this forced relocation.

I let out a long sigh and finally shut my eyes.

They were sore from crying, and the flight was nowhere near over.

If I wanted to function when I landed, I needed sleep.

A light touch on my arm woke me after what seemed like minutes.

“Miss?” the air hostess whispered, her voice gentle.“We’ve arrived.”

I blinked up at her, the blanket sliding off my lap as I straightened. Only a few other passengers were stirring.

“Welcome to Italy,” she said with a polite smile before stepping away to give me space.

I exhaled, and reached for my phone and carry-on. My body felt heavy, my emotions heavier, but I forced myself to stand.

The moment I stepped out of the cabin, warm Italian air brushed my face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I scoffed, jabbing at my phone.

Nothing. It was Dead. Great.

All I had were a few vague instructions and the only thing I knew for sure was that a black sports car was supposed to be waiting for me at the airport.

I scanned the terminal, and my stomach sank. The car was impossible to miss with the two huge men standing in front of it.

“He promised… no bodyguards,” I muttered under my breath as I approached the car.

My father did way too much for a regular businessman.

I’d had bodyguards for as long as I could remember, and even now, I still saw it as unnecessary but of course, I had no say in it.

I wasn’t my brother.

So I didn’t get a say in anything.

Fucking double standards.

“No,” one of the men growled as I reached for the door handle.

I rolled my eyes. I did not have time for this right now.

“Okay, look,” I said, forcing a smile. “I really don’t have time for this. I’ve had a shitty enough day. Just take me to my dorm at the Bocconi university, and… we can skip all of this, yeah?”

He didn’t budge. Not an inch.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Okay, fine. Give me a charger so I can call my dad and we can get this over with,” I sighed.

They just stared at me like I’d grown a second head.

“Emilia?” I enunciated my name slowly, hoping it would at least ring a bell.

Nothing.

Great. I was in Italy and all I knew were Italian insults, not a single useful word.

“Car. Me. You. University.” I tried again, pointing between myself, the car, and them, hoping that would do the trick.

They started talking to each other in rapid Italian, tapping at their headsets.

“Enzo?” I tried my brother’s name hoping it would trigger something.

They froze, exchanged a few quick words, and tapped at their headsets again like they were receiving instructions.

Finally, they stepped aside.

Of course. The idiot’s name worked.

“I'm going to get you guys fired,” I muttered as I yanked the car door open, sliding into the leather seats.

“Only I have the power to fire my men,” a deep voice said beside me, dripping with an Italian accent.

I yelped.

Three bodyguards?

I stared at the figure beside me, and all I could think of was how true Nora’s words were.

Italian men… definitely hotter.

He was tall with a presence that made the leather seats feel small with broad shoulders, a perfectly tailored suit, and hair dark enough to contrast with the stormy grey of his eyes.

His jaw was sharp, and the slightest shadow of stubble made him look… lethal.

I shook away the thought. I had a boyfriend who treated me well. He didn’t deserve a girlfriend who let her mind wander the moment a sexy stranger appeared.

“You will not speak to me like that,” I warned, “or I’ll have my dad replace all of you with people who actually listen. Don’t test me.”

The man in the front seat reached into his jacket for something, but the one beside me barked a short command in Italian.

Whatever he said made the driver freeze, then slowly return his hand to the steering wheel.

I rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

What was this? The Godfather reboot?

“Just drive me to Boccini University already,” I huffed, leaning my head on the window.

The driver stayed perfectly still like he was waiting for permission from someone else.

“Drive,” the man beside me ordered.

Only then did the car move.

I scoffed and reached for the phone charger at the same time the man beside me did.

My breath caught before I could stop it as our fingers brushed. His fingers were warm and steady… too steady.

I snatched my hand to my lap, staring straight ahead, pretending absolutely nothing happened.

“Go ahead, tempesta. Ladies first,” he said, leaning back in his seat like he owned the whole damn car.

Did he just call me a pest?

The audacity.

I plugged in my phone without looking at him and leaned back, gluing my eyes to the window.

I could feel him watching me like he was studying every movement I made but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

Not until the massive university building finally came into view.

It felt like my hands started sweating the second I stepped out of the car, gripping my carry-on like it might steady me.

My other luggage had already been shipped from America, so all I had to do was walk inside and pretend this wasn’t the worst day of my life.

The sports car didn’t move an inch.

Not until I pushed through the university’s glass doors.

Only then did I hear the low engine of the car driving away.

I took a breath, powered my phone back on and froze.

The first text from my father lit up my screen, stopping me dead in the hallway.

“Where the hell are you? My men are still at the airport. Don’t try to pull a fast one on me, Emilia.” —Dad.

My stomach dropped straight to the floor.

If his men were still at the airport then who the hell picked me up?