CHAPTER 17

Lia’s POV

I froze on the bed, my heart jumping into my throat.

"Miss?" A soft, feminine voice came through the door. One of the maids. "Miss Lia?"

I sat up quickly, smoothing down my dress with shaking hands, trying to look like a normal person who hadn't just been doing what I'd been doing.

"Yes?" My voice came out rough and I cleared my throat. "Yes, just a second."

"Mr. Marchetti would like to see you in his office," she said politely through the door. "When you're ready."

My stomach dropped straight through the floor.

Victor wanted to see me.

Victor. The man whose hands I'd just been imagining on my body. Whose voice I'd heard in my head telling me to let go. Whose blue eyes I'd pictured looking at me with hunger while I touched myself.

Oh god. Oh god.

"I'll—" I had to stop and swallow hard. "I'll be right there. Just give me a minute."

"Of course, miss. I'll wait in the hallway to show you the way."

I heard her footsteps retreat slightly, giving me space.

I scrambled off the bed and practically ran to the bathroom, my legs still slightly unsteady. I looked at myself in the mirror and wanted to die. My face was flushed. My hair was messy. My eyes looked wild and guilty, like I was wearing a sign that announced exactly what I'd just been doing.

I turned on the cold water and splashed it over my face, my neck, my wrists—anywhere I could reach, trying to cool down the heat in my skin. Trying to wash away the evidence of my shame.

Then I pulled off my ruined underwear with shaking hands, balled it up, and shoved it deep into the bathroom trash where no one would see it. I found a fresh pair in the dresser drawer and pulled them on quickly, along with a different dress—a simple white sundress that felt less rumpled than what I'd been wearing.

I brushed my hair, smoothed it down, checked my reflection one more time.

I still looked guilty. But there was nothing I could do about that now.

I took a deep breath, held it for a count of five, then let it out slowly.

You can do this, I told myself. Just act normal. He has no idea what you were thinking. No one can read your mind.

The reassurance felt hollow.

I opened the door. The maid was waiting a respectful distance down the hallway, her hands folded in front of her, her expression pleasantly neutral.

"Ready, miss?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

She led me through the villa, down hallways I hadn't explored yet. We passed more stunning artwork, more fresh flowers in crystal vases, more windows overlooking the impossibly blue sea. The house seemed to go on forever, room after beautiful room.

Finally, we stopped in front of a large wooden door—darker and heavier than the others, with intricate carvings along the frame. It looked important. Official.

"Here we are," the maid said with a small smile. "You can go right in."

"Thank you," I managed.

She nodded and walked away, her footsteps fading down the hallway.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, my heart hammering against my ribs.

This was fine. This was completely fine. Victor probably just wanted to check in, make sure I was comfortable, ask if I needed anything. It was just a polite host checking on a guest. That was all.

I raised my hand and knocked softly.

"Come in," Victor's deep voice called from inside.

I pushed open the door and stepped into his office.

The room was masculine and elegant—dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, a large desk positioned in front of tall windows that overlooked the gardens and the sea beyond. Everything about it spoke of power and wealth and quiet confidence.

And behind that desk, seated in a high-backed leather chair, was Victor.

He looked up as I entered, and those piercing blue eyes landed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch.

He was still wearing the white linen shirt from breakfast, but he'd rolled the sleeves up higher now, exposing more of those tanned, muscular forearms. His silver hair was slightly mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it. He looked relaxed but alert, powerful but approachable.

He looked exactly like he had in my dream.

Heat flooded my face immediately.

"Lia," he said, and his mouth curved into a slight smile. "Thank you for coming. Please, sit down."

He gestured to one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk.

I walked over on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else and sat down carefully, smoothing my dress over my knees. I kept my eyes firmly on my hands in my lap.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Victor said, leaning back slightly in his chair. "I wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're settling in well."

"I'm fine," I said quickly. Too quickly. "Everything is beautiful. The villa is amazing. Thank you for having me."

The words came out in a rush, mechanical and rehearsed.

There was a pause. I could feel him looking at me, studying me.

"Look at me, Lia."

It wasn't a request. It was gentle, but it was definitely a command.

I forced myself to lift my eyes and meet his gaze.