Chapter 33

Zara’s POV

“Isn’t that the man from the other night?” Sofia’s voice cut through the chaos in my head. The chaos I’d gotten from just staring at him from a distance.

I didn’t answer her immediately. I mean I couldn’t. My lungs felt tight, like the air had shifted the second Matteo stepped onto campus. Like the entire university had tilted slightly off its axis.

“Yes,” I finally muttered and Sofia’s grip tightened around my arm. “Oh, my God. That’s him, isn’t it? The fine one from the video.”

I shot her a look. “Don’t.”

“What? I’m just saying. He looks even better in real life.”

I tore my eyes away from him, forcing my feet to move. “Stop staring.”

“You were the one staring.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

Heat crept up my neck almost instantly. Not from embarrassment though but from irritation. At him, and at myself.

He had been standing there like he owned the building. Like the walls had been built around him instead of the other way around.

Watching. And I had felt it. The weight of his gaze sliding over me was controlled but intense.

“Why is he here?” Sofia asked as we stepped outside into the courtyard.

“I heard he funded the new wing,” she said, with a smile on her face.

I stopped walking, “Wait. Funded?”

I sighed. “Yes, Zara. Like funded.”

“So in conclusion, he’s rich rich!”

She blinked. “And you live in the same house as him.”

“Unfortunately,” I said flatly.

She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “That’s incredible, yet tempting, Zara.”

“Stop it Sofia, this isn’t funny!”

“Fine! Fine!” She said, throwing her hands up in the air.

We continued toward the cafeteria, the low murmurs of students filling the space around us. But my mind wasn’t here. It was still in that hallway. The way his eyes had locked onto mine.

Sofia kept talking beside me. “He’s so tall. And that suit? God. The shoulders alone—”

“Sofia.”

“What? I have eyes.”

I pushed open the cafeteria doors. The noise inside enveloped us immediately, with trays clattering, chairs scraping, and conversations overlapping.

We grabbed our usual table near the windows.

“I don’t understand your dynamic,” she continued. “You know for some reason, you two look like you’re in a silent war every time you’re near each other.”

I stared down at my tray.

“That’s because we are,” I said to myself but said nothing to her.

She tilted her head. “Zara, you’re not talking

I hesitated. Still reminiscing on the thoughts in my mind. The kiss. The couch. His mouth on mine.

The memory hit without a warning, his weight, the heat of his hands, the way I had melted for a split second before he’d pulled away and smirked like it was all a game.

I grabbed my fork. “Eat your food.”

She grinned but let it drop for now. But I couldn’t drop it. Because the truth was worse. The truth was that seeing him at school had done something to me.

He didn’t belong in my world. And yet he had walked into it effortlessly. And I had hated how aware I’d been of him.

The rest of the day dragged on and lectures blurred together. Notes filled pages I didn’t remember writing.

Every time the classroom door opened, my stupid heart jumped like it expected him to walk in. Which was absolutely ridiculous.

We walked toward the gate together after classes. Students lingered around the entrance. Some of them still whispered occasionally when they looked at me — remnants of the party incident.

The car was waiting and someone stepped out when he saw me. “Miss Zara.”

I nodded, already he had been assigned by Matteo go pick me up. “Let’s go.”

The drive back as usual was quiet. I rested my head against the window, watching the roads blur past. My mind replayed fragments I didn’t ask for.

‘Why couldn’t he just stay consistent?’ If he was going to be cruel, be cruel. If he was going to be distant, stay distant.

But this back and forth, this silent pull was slowly getting exhausting.

The car slowed minutes later as we approached the mansion and that’s when I noticed something off.

Another car. Black and unfamiliar. Parked near the entrance.

“Who’s here?” I asked.

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “I was informed someone important arrived this afternoon.”

“Important how?”

He hesitated. “Family.”

My stomach tightened. Family. And then the gates opened. The mansion stood quiet and imposing as always, but there was a tension in the air.

I stepped out but before I even reached the doors, I heard it.

A voice. Deep. Loud. Italian accent heavy and commanding.

“What is this incompetence? I leave for a week and everything falls apart?”

Servants hurried across the foyer. The voice echoed from the living room repeatedly and I stepped inside cautiously.

A tall man stood near the center of the room. Around 5’11. Older. Definitely past fifty. Grey streaks through dark hair. Rich features. Authority dripping from every movement.

He gestured sharply toward one of the staff members. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

The staff scattered and I froze on entry.

Who— The man turned and his eyes landed on me. And just like that— His entire expression changed. The anger vanished.

Replaced by something warm. Almost theatrical.

“Well,” he said slowly, smoothing down his jacket. “And who is this?”

I swallowed, as his gaze softened. “Ah.”

He took a step towards me.

“My daughter.”

Daughter?

“I—” My voice faltered and he smiled gently. “You must be Zara.”

I stared at him for a long moment, seeing the resemblance, the jawline. The eyes. Matteo.

“You’re…” I trailed off.

He extended his hand. “Theo Ferraro.”

My breath caught in my chest. Matteo’s father. Of course. He chuckled softly at my expression. “You look shocked.”

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Neither did Matteo, I assure you.”

That explained the yelling. He studied my face closely, almost curiously. “You are even more beautiful than I was told.”

I stiffened.

“Forgive the chaos,” he continued smoothly. “My presence tends to unsettle things.”

“Are you well, daughter?” he asked. The way he said it, affectionately but calculating made my skin prickle.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” He smiled wider. “You will join us for dinner tonight.”

The way he smiled at me I could already tell that it wasn’t a question.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said carefully.

His eyebrow lifted. “Not necessary?” he repeated, as if amused by my response.

“I have assignments.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Assignments can wait. Family cannot.”

The word felt heavy again. Family. I barely survived living under the same roof as his son. Now this?

“I really don’t—”

“Zara.”

His tone shifted slightly yet still sweet.

“I insist.” My jaw tightened. I forced a small smile.

“I’ll think about it.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “It would disappoint me if you didn’t attend.”

A chill ran down my spine at his tone and then I nodded stiffly. “Fine.”

“Excellent.” He beamed. “We dine in one hour.”

He turned away, already issuing instructions to the kitchen staff, and I headed to my bedroom.