CHAPTER 5

Those blue eyes. God, those blue eyes.

Up close, they were even more intense than I'd noticed from across the room. They were the kind of blue you saw in pictures of the Mediterranean—deep and clear and impossibly bright. They held a sharpness to them, an intelligence, like he was taking in everything about me in just a few seconds and filing it all away somewhere in that sharp mind of his.

I felt my face grow warm under his gaze.

"And who is this?" Victor asked, his deep voice smooth and unhurried. He looked at Rob, but his eyes drifted back to me almost immediately. "This beautiful girl."

Beautiful. He'd called me beautiful. The word landed somewhere in my chest and sat there, warm and unexpected. Nobody had called me beautiful in a long time. Certainly not Rob.

Rob barely glanced at me. "That's Lia," he said simply, already looking around the entrance hall like he was bored.

That's Lia. Not "this is my girlfriend." Not "this is the woman I've been with for a year." Just—Lia. Like I was a piece of luggage he'd brought along. An afterthought. A nobody.

The casual dismissal stung more than I expected. I'd known, somewhere deep down, that Rob hadn't told his family about me properly. But hearing it—or rather, not hearing it—made it real in a way it hadn't been before.

Victor, however, didn't seem to share his son's indifference. He turned to me fully, giving me his complete attention in a way that felt almost overwhelming after being invisible for so long. He stepped forward and extended his hand toward me.

"Victor Marchetti," he said, his blue eyes holding mine steadily. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lia."

I reached out and took his hand.

The moment our palms touched, something happened. Something I couldn't explain and couldn't prepare for.

It was like a current, a warm electric charge that started in my hand and traveled up my arm and kept going, spreading through my chest and down into my stomach and further south, settling somewhere deep and low in my core. It was over in a split second, just a brief handshake, but the feeling it left behind was undeniable.

I pulled my hand back quickly. Maybe a little too quickly.

Victor's eyes flickered with something—amusement, maybe—but it was gone before I could be sure.

I told myself I was imagining things. I had to be imagining things. I was stressed and exhausted and emotionally destroyed from everything that had happened on the plane. My mind was playing tricks on me. My body was confused. That was all.

Because feeling something like that from shaking hands with my boyfriend's father was not okay. Was not normal. Was not something I was going to let myself think about for even one more second.

What the hell was wrong with me?

"I hope you enjoy your time on the island," Victor said, his voice warm and genuine. His eyes were still on me, like I was actually worth looking at. Like I was actually worth talking to. "We don't get many guests. It would be nice to have some life around here."

I cleared my throat and tried to pull myself together. "Thank you for having me," I said, my voice coming out steadier than I expected. "It's... it's a beautiful island. I could see it from the helicopter. I've never seen anything like it."

The corners of Victor's mouth curved up slightly. Not a big smile, not a flashy one. Just a small, quiet lift that somehow made his whole face warmer. "I'm glad you think so. I hope the inside of the house lives up to the outside."

"It already does," I said honestly, glancing around at the marble floors and the chandeliers and the grand staircase. "It's incredible."

He held my gaze for just a moment longer than necessary before finally turning to Rob.

"Your brother will be arriving tonight," Victor said, his tone shifting slightly. Still calm, still controlled, but something about the way he said it felt deliberate. Like he was watching for a reaction. "He had some business to finish up first. He'll be here by dinner."

I noticed the change in Rob immediately.

It was subtle—Rob was good at keeping a blank face—but I'd spent a year studying his expressions, and I caught it. A slight tightening of his jaw. A flicker behind his eyes. His shoulders stiffened just a little, almost imperceptibly, before he forced them to relax again.

He didn't look happy. Not even close.

"Fine," Rob said flatly, his voice giving nothing away.

Victor looked at his son for a moment, something unreadable in those sharp blue eyes. Then he simply nodded, like he'd confirmed whatever he was thinking, and moved on.

A soft sound of footsteps made me turn. A young maid had appeared from one of the side hallways, approaching us quietly with her hands folded in front of her. She was probably around my age, with dark hair and a shy smile, wearing a simple black and white uniform.

"Ah," Victor said, gesturing toward her. "She'll show you to your rooms so you can get settled. Dinner is at eight."

I nodded, grateful for something to focus on other than my own swirling thoughts.

"Right," Rob said, stepping forward. Then, almost casually, like it was nothing, he added, "We'll need separate rooms."

I stopped.

My head turned toward him slowly.

Separate rooms.

I blinked, sure I'd heard wrong. We were a couple. We'd traveled here together. The entire point of this trip—at least as I'd understood it—was for Rob to finally introduce me to his family. And now he wanted separate rooms? Like I was a stranger? Like I was just some girl he'd brought along for the ride?

The hurt that moved through me was swift and sharp. Another cut in a day that had been full of them.

I felt Victor's eyes on me. I didn't look at him. I couldn't. I didn't want him to see what was written all over my face.

I thought about arguing. I thought about pulling Rob aside and asking him what exactly he thought he was doing, what kind of message he thought this was sending to his father, to the staff, to everyone. I thought about demanding an explanation right then and there.

But I was so tired. So completely and utterly exhausted from crying and hurting and fighting battles I couldn't win. I didn't have anything left in me for another fight. Not today.

I took a slow breath and turned to the maid with what I hoped looked like a calm smile.

"Could you just show me to my room, please?" I said quietly.

The maid nodded gently, her expression polite and professional, giving nothing away. "Of course, miss. Right this way."

I followed her toward the grand staircase without looking back at Rob. Without looking back at Victor.

But as I reached the first step and began to climb, I felt it—the faint, unmistakable sensation of eyes on my back.

And somehow, without knowing how I knew, I was certain they weren't Rob's.