Chapter 5- Fractured Tensions

Edwina

The soft hum of conversation, the clinking of wine glasses, and the scent of rich Italian Cuisine fill the air, but all of it fades into the background the moment the glass shatters. The sharp sound echoes through the elegant restaurant, drawing the attention of nearby patrons. I flinch, my body instinctively stiffening at the unexpected commotion.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," a feminine voice exclaims, thick with remorse.

I look up, prepared to glare at whoever had just spilt wine all over my dress, but the words die in my throat. The woman standing before me is breathtaking. She has the kind of beauty that makes people stop and stare—flawless sun-kissed skin, high cheekbones, and large almond-shaped hazel eyes that hold an almost hypnotic warmth. Her black dress clings to her hourglass figure, effortlessly elegant yet daring. Honey-coloured streaks weave through her rich brunette waves, cascading past her shoulders in perfect symmetry.

For a fleeting moment, I feel something I haven't in years—an unbidden pang of jealousy.

"Jas?" Raffaele’s voice cuts through my thoughts. His tone holds a mixture of surprise and something else—something far too familiar for my liking.

My lips press into a thin line as I instinctively take a step back, forcing my gaze away from the stranger. Instead, I focus on the mess—the shattered remnants of my wine glass strewn across the polished wooden floor, the dark liquid seeping into the fabric of my dress.

"Tesoro, are you okay?" Raffaele’s voice is softer now, edged with concern, but it only fuels my irritation.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it," I reply, my voice smooth but distant. I push back my chair and rise gracefully to my feet, careful to avoid the glass shards at my feet.

"Raffaele, is it really you?" The woman, Jas—Jasmine, apparently—tilts her head slightly, her expression lighting up with recognition.

I watch as Raffaele slowly pushes his own chair back, standing to his full imposing height. A smile, small but genuine, crosses his usually impassive face as he steps forward and pulls Jasmine into a brief but warm embrace.

Something in me twists at the sight. Raffaele Marcello, the man who rarely showed emotion, who lived and breathed intimidation, is smiling as an old friend reunited with a long-lost treasure.

Frowning, I cross my arms, my nails digging into my skin. What the hell is going on?

"Jasmine, I'd like you to meet Edwina," Raffaele finally said, turning slightly to gesture toward her. His tone held an odd sense of pride as if presenting something valuable.

Jasmine’s hazel eyes meet mine, and for a brief moment, I think I see something flicker behind them—curiosity? Amusement? Pity? Whatever it is, it is gone in an instant, replaced with a practised warmth.

"Hello, Edwina." Jasmine extends a perfectly manicured hand, her smile genuine. "A pleasure to meet you, although I wish it wasn’t under such circumstances."

I stare at her hand for a second longer than necessary. I have half a mind to ignore it, to walk away and leave this absurdly beautiful woman hanging, but I wasn’t a complete savage.

Barely suppressing an eye-roll, I clasp Jasmine’s hand in mine, shaking it briefly. "Likewise."

"I really am sorry," Jasmine adds, her sincerity evident.

 forced a tight-lipped smile. "I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be sorted out."

Raffaele’s jaw twitched, and before he could say anything, I take a step back. The air between them feels suffocating, thick with unspoken words. Without another glance, she turns on her heel and walks away.

"Edwina." Raffaele’s voice is low, warning.

I ignore him, my heels clicking against the marble floor as I stride toward the exit, anger boiling just beneath the surface. The last thing I want to stand there and play second fiddle to whatever history he has with Jasmine.

A second later, I heard footsteps. Fast, determined.

By the time I reach the parking lot, Raffaele is right behind me.

"Tesoro." His voice is sharp now, a growl of frustration.

I reach for the car door, but before I can pull it open, his hand slams against the metal, effectively trapping me between the car and his body.

"Remove your hand, Raffaele," I say, my voice icy.

He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. "Or what, Edwina?"

M body reacts before I can think. My palm strucks his cheek with a sharp, resounding slap, the sound ringing out in the quiet night.

Raffaele’s face barely moves, but his jaw clenches, his emerald eyes darkening with something dangerous.

The world stands still for a heartbeat.

Then, before I can react, his fingers wrap around my wrist. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to send a shiver of warning down my spine.

"Never raise your hand at me again, Tesoro," he murmurs, his voice dangerously low. "Because next time, I won’t take it lightly."

I swallow, my heart hammering in my chest. There is no mistaking the sincerity in his words.

After a beat, he releases my wrist, stepping back.

I rub the spot where his fingers had been, a bruise already forming. Without another word, I slip into the car. The ride back to my penthouse is silent, tension hanging thick between them.

When he pulls up to her building, I turn to him, hesitating. "I'm sorry."

Raffaele doesn't look at me. His hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

Something in my chest aches at the sight, but I have no idea how to fix it.

With a sigh, I step out, walking away without looking back.

The moment I enter my penthouse, I kick off my heels, and pour myself a glass of red wine. I needed something strong to drown out the mess of emotions swirling inside me.

As I take a sip, my phone rings. I glance at the screen.

Clara Gemstone.

I smile despite myself, answering immediately. "Hello?"

"Hermosa," comes my grandmother's familiar voice, warm and teasing.

Edwina chuckles, swirling her wine. "I'm here, Abuela."

"Mind telling me why my grandchild is too busy for me these days?" Clara’s tone is light, but I know she isn’t joking.

"It’s not that, Abuela. Work has been overwhelming," I sigh.

"Mmmhmm. You sure it has nothing to do with a man?" Clara presses, amusement thick in her voice.

"Abuela!" I shriek, nearly choking on my wine.

Clara chuckles. "Don’t blame me, Hermosa. It’s been too long since you had someone in your life. Who knows, maybe things have changed, and I’m just the last to know."

I sigh, rubbing my temple. "Nothing has changed."

"Such a sad life, child," Clara teases. "Anyway, how’s work?"

For the next few minutes, I fill my grandmother in on the company’s latest projects, the upcoming partnership, and everything in between.

"I’m proud of you, Edwina," Clara says when she finishes. "Keep it up, Hermosa."

I smile genuinely. "Gracias, Abuela."

"De nada, now go to bed. I need my beauty sleep."

Laughing, I bid her goodnight before hanging up.

I finish the last of my wine and slip into bed. But no matter how much I tried, sleep wouldn’t come.

All I can think about is Raffaele. His cold silence. The way his emerald eyes had burned into mine. And, most of all, the way Jasmine’s presence had unsettled me more than it should have.

With a frustrated sigh, I close my eyes, but instead of sleep, all I see are those haunting green eyes pulling me deeper into the unknown.