CHAPTER 12

Lia’s POV

Rob was still smiling at her, his whole body language different than it had been thirty seconds ago. Open. Relaxed. Happy.

Then he seemed to remember I existed.

He glanced over at me briefly—so briefly it barely counted—and made a vague gesture in my direction.

"Celeste, this is Lia," he said. Not "my girlfriend." Not "the woman I'm with." Just Lia. The same way he'd introduced me to his father. Like I was nobody in particular. Just some girl who happened to be there.

Then he turned back to Celeste, his attention already gone. "Lia, this is Celeste. She's a dear friend of the family."

The words landed exactly the way they were meant to—making it very clear where everyone ranked.

Celeste turned to look at me for the first time. Her eyes swept over me quickly, taking in my simple dress, my basic sandals, my complete lack of designer anything. Her expression stayed pleasant and polite, but something flickered behind it. Something that looked an awful lot like amusement.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"You too," I managed, forcing my voice to stay steady.

I told myself the sting I felt didn't matter. Told myself I was being oversensitive, just like Rob always said. This was fine. This was normal. Friends visited each other all the time.

Rob turned back to Celeste, already moving on. "How was the ride over? The boat wasn't too rough?"

"Oh, it was perfect," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Smooth sailing the whole way. And the staff already took my things up to my room, so I'm all settled in."

My head snapped up.

Her room. My things. Settled in.

The implication hit me like cold water.

"You're... staying here?" I heard myself ask, my voice coming out smaller than I wanted it to.

Celeste turned to look at me again, and this time there was no mistaking the slight smirk that curved her lips. It was subtle—just a tiny lift at one corner of her mouth—but it was there.

"Yes," she said simply, holding my gaze just a beat too long. "I'm here for the week."

The week. Seven days. She was going to be here, in this house, with Rob, for the entire week I was supposed to be spending with him and his family.

Something cold and heavy settled in my chest.

Before I could respond—before I could even process what I was feeling—Celeste had already turned back to Rob, effectively ending the conversation. She leaned in closer to him, lowering her voice, and they started talking in that quiet, intimate way that made it very clear I wasn't part of it.

I stood there, frozen, watching my boyfriend laugh at something she said. Watching him lean in to hear her better. Watching the way his hand came up to rest briefly on her arm, casual and comfortable, the kind of easy touch he never gave me anymore.

They looked good together. They looked like they fit. Like they came from the same world, spoke the same language, understood the same references I would never get.

I felt like I was disappearing. Like I was fading out of the room while standing right there in front of them.

That was when I heard new footsteps.

These were different—heavier, more measured, the confident stride of men who didn't need to announce themselves because their presence did it for them.

I turned toward the doorway, grateful for literally anything that would give me somewhere else to look.

Victor walked in first, dressed impeccably as always—crisp white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark slacks, leather loafers. His salt-and-pepper hair was perfectly styled, and those piercing blue eyes swept the room with the kind of sharp awareness that missed nothing.

And beside him, just slightly behind, was the man from last night.

Dante.

My breath caught in my chest.

In the daylight, he was somehow even more striking than he'd been in the blue glow of the pool. Tall—so tall that he made the already-high doorway look almost small. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built in a way that was impossible to ignore. He wore dark jeans and a simple black t-shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the muscular frame underneath. His dark hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered recently, pushed back from his face. And those eyes—nearly black, intense, unreadable—found mine almost immediately.

My heart kicked hard against my ribs.

Victor's gaze landed on Celeste, and I saw surprise flicker across his face. Just briefly, but it was there.

"Celeste," he said, his voice smooth but carrying a question underneath. "I didn't realize you'd be joining us."

Rob stepped forward quickly, his posture shifting slightly. Defensive, maybe. Or just aware that he was supposed to explain something.

"I invited her, Dad," he said. "Figured it would be nice to have some company. You don't mind, do you?"

It wasn't really a question.

Victor's eyes moved to his son, and something passed between them—something silent and complicated that I couldn't read. Then Victor's expression smoothed out into practiced politeness.

"Of course not," he said evenly. "You're always welcome here, Celeste."

Celeste smiled, clearly pleased. "Thank you, Victor. It's wonderful to be back."

Victor's gaze shifted then, moving past Celeste and landing on me. His expression warmed immediately, that sharp edge softening into something that looked almost like concern.

"Good morning, Lia," he said, and the way he said my name—like it actually mattered, like I was actually someone worth addressing—made something loosen in my chest.

"Good morning," I said quietly.

Then Victor turned slightly, gesturing to the man beside him.

"I don't believe you two have been properly introduced yet," he said. "Lia, this is my eldest son, Dante. Dante, this is Lia."