CHAPTER 18

Lia’s POV

Those blue eyes held mine steadily, and I felt like I was being seen—really seen—in a way that was both comforting and terrifying. Like he could read every thought in my head, every shameful fantasy I'd just indulged in.

But his expression remained kind. Concerned, even.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked quietly. "You seem... troubled."

"I'm fine," I repeated, but my voice cracked slightly on the word.

Victor tilted his head slightly, considering me. He didn't press, but something in his expression said he didn't believe me.

Instead, he shifted the conversation.

"Tell me about yourself," he said, settling back in his chair with an air of genuine interest. "I realized at dinner last night that I know very little about you. And I'd like to change that."

The request surprised me. Rob had never asked me to tell him about myself. Not really. Not in a way that suggested he actually cared about the answer.

"There's not much to tell," I said with a small, self-deprecating shrug.

"I doubt that," Victor said simply. "Start anywhere. Where did you grow up? What do you do for work?"

I hesitated, then started talking. Slowly at first, haltingly, but Victor's steady attention made it easier somehow.

I told him I worked as an assistant at a small company downtown. Nothing glamorous—just answering phones, filing paperwork, running errands for my boss. It paid enough to cover rent and groceries and not much else.

I told him I was an only child. That my parents had died when I was young—a car crash on a rainy highway when I was eight years old. That my grandfather had taken me in after that, raised me in his small house on the outskirts of the city.

Victor listened without interrupting, his expression attentive and serious.

"My grandfather died four years ago," I continued, my voice getting quieter. "Heart attack. He was the only family I had left. After that, it was just... me."

The words hung in the air for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Victor said, and he sounded like he meant it. Not the hollow, performative sorry people usually offered. Genuine sympathy. "That must have been incredibly difficult."

"It was," I admitted. "But I managed."

"More than managed, I suspect," Victor said, his eyes still on me. "You've built a life for yourself. That takes strength."

The compliment caught me off guard. Heat rose in my cheeks again, but this time it wasn't from shame—it was from something else. Something warm and unfamiliar.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

We talked for a while longer. Victor asked more questions—what I liked to do in my free time, what books I read, what kind of music I listened to. Normal questions, but he asked them like the answers actually mattered to him. Like I was interesting. Like I was worth knowing.

It felt easy, talking to him. Natural in a way that conversations with Rob never were. There was no performance required. No walking on eggshells. Just two people having a conversation.

I almost forgot to be nervous.

Almost.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Victor called.

The door opened, and Dante walked in.

My entire body went rigid.

He was dressed casually—dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the powerful build underneath. His dark hair was slightly damp again, like he'd recently showered. Those nearly black eyes swept the room, landing on me for just a fraction of a second before moving to his father.

"Sorry to interrupt," Dante said, his deep voice filling the space. "I'm heading to the village to meet with some of the locals about the development project. Just wanted to let you know."

"Not interrupting at all," Victor said easily. Then he turned to me, and something shifted in his expression—something thoughtful. "Lia, would you like to go with Dante? Get out of the villa for a bit? See some of the island?"

My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Go with Dante. Just the two of us. In a car. For what would probably be at least an hour.

Every sensible part of my brain was screaming at me to say no. To make up an excuse. To stay far, far away from this man I'd just been fantasizing about.

But another part of me—a louder, more desperate part—wanted to say yes. Wanted to get out of this house. Wanted to be somewhere that wasn't filled with Rob and Celeste and the constant, crushing weight of my own inadequacy.

"I..." I looked at Dante. He was watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes, waiting. "Yes. I'd like that. If it's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Victor said with a slight smile. "Dante?"

Dante nodded once. "Ready when you are."

I stood up, smoothing down my dress again nervously. "Thank you for talking with me," I said to Victor.

"Anytime," he said, and something in the way he said it made me believe him. "Enjoy the village."

Dante and I left the office together and walked through the villa in silence. My heart was beating too fast, and I was hyperaware of him beside me—his height, his presence, the clean scent of his soap.

We exited through the main entrance and walked down the stone path toward where several cars were parked. Dante headed toward a sleek black SUV and opened the passenger door for me without a word.

"Thank you," I murmured, climbing in.

He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side.

We had to pass by the pool area to get to the main drive. I looked out the window, watching the gardens slide past—and then I saw them.

Rob and Celeste.

They were by the pool, stretched out on lounge chairs in the sun. Celeste was lying on her stomach, her bikini top untied, and Rob was sitting beside her with a bottle of sunscreen in his hands.

I watched as he squeezed some into his palm and began rubbing it slowly across her bare back. His movements were careful and deliberate, his hands spreading the lotion over her skin with an attentiveness I hadn't seen from him in months. Maybe ever.

He was smiling. Actually smiling. Looking relaxed and happy and completely content.

The way he used to look at me, back when we first started dating. Before everything went wrong.

My chest tightened painfully.

I looked away quickly, staring straight ahead through the windshield, pretending I hadn't seen. Pretending it didn't matter.

But my hands were clenched into fists in my lap.

We drove in silence for a few minutes, winding down the narrow road that cut through the island's dense vegetation. The windows were down slightly, and the warm breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and salt air.

Then Dante spoke.

"Why are you with him?"