I leaned one elbow on Angelo's desk, trying to shake off the leftover storm from last night. He was typing something furiously on his laptop, glasses perched low on his nose, but the second he noticed me, he stopped."Where did you run off to last night?" he asked, peering over the screen. "You scared the hell out of everyone."I sighed, offering a sheepish smile. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I just... needed a moment to breathe."Angelo’s brows pulled together. He looked at me a second longer, then gave a small, resigned nod. "Next time, just text one of us. It doesn’t matter who—me, Mr De Vito, Matteo. Someone. We were searching for you all over the damn place."I nodded quickly. "I will. Promise."He didn’t press further, which I appreciated. I gave him a grateful smile and pushed off his desk. "I’m going to make Mr De Vito some coffee. As an apology.""Black. No sugar," Angelo called after me.Like I didn’t already know.I walked down the corridor to the private kitc
I sat behind my desk at the Salvatore Enterprises tower, surrounded by skyline and glass and enough pending contracts to drown in. A mountain of numbers. Reports. Forecasts. People who needed decisions.But all I could think about was her laugh. That low, husky sound when she made fun of herself. The way she scrunched her nose when she drank something too strong. The way her hand clutched mine at the beach like she’d known me forever.Damn it.I ran a hand down my face and stared blankly at the spreadsheet open on my monitor. Projected revenue growth? Who cared. I couldn’t even remember what division I was reviewing. The letters swam. My jaw clenched.Focus, Alessandro.This is what you’re good at. Control. Power. Precision.Not barefoot walks with women who smell like heartbreak and red wine.And definitely not letting said woman crawl under your skin after a single night.But here I was, sitting in a thousand-dollar chair, sipping bitter espresso, and picturing the way she had laugh
“Where the fuck were you last night?”His voice cracked through the silence like a gunshot, sharp and cold, making me flinch as the door slid shut behind me.Mr De Vito didn’t move from where he stood—tall, immovable, and dangerous as hell. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw ticked once, and his gaze—normally unreadable—was blazing.I froze a few feet inside the penthouse, my fingers tightening around my purse. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. My throat had dried up the moment the elevator chimed on this floor. I’d known this was coming. I’d known it the second Alessandro said his name.Still, being here—face to face with him in the cold aftermath—was a different kind of terrifying.“I—” I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”“That’s not an answer.” He took a step closer. “Where were you?”Lie. Just lie. Tell him anything but the truth.Because I couldn’t tell him I’d left the charity ball because I saw a ghost from the past. A ghost with a name. A ghost with a re
The first thing I felt was my brain trying to climb out of my skull.The second was panic.I sat up too fast—huge mistake. The world spun, a dizzying carousel of expensive furniture, soft lighting, and a ceiling I didn’t recognize. My heart pounded against my ribcage like it was trying to alert security.Where the hell am I?I blinked rapidly. This wasn’t my room. The bed beneath me was twice the size of mine. The sheets smelled like cedarwood and… money. The walls were painted a soft ivory, the curtains drawn just enough to let in warm morning light. It wasn’t a hotel room either—too elegant for that. A chandelier hung overhead, glittering even in the daytime.My fingers curled around the sheets as dread settled in.I remembered the tequila. I remembered the waves. The way I laughed like I hadn’t in months. I remembered—oh god, walking barefoot through the street. But then… I remembered a face. Sharp jaw, burning eyes. A familiar menace from the past.I’d seen him at the ball last ni
The lights of the city blinked beneath me like a sea of fireflies, restless and chaotic. I stood at the window of my penthouse, hands tucked into the pockets of my slacks, staring down at the skyline that never slept. My reflection looked back at me in the glass—tired, tense, controlled only by a thin thread of restraint. I had spent my life mastering the art of calm calculation, making decisions under pressure with the precision of a scalpel.But tonight, something was off.Tonight, Emily was at Alessandro Salvatore's house.My jaw clenched as I watched the dark outlines of the buildings. I couldn’t stop replaying that call in my head, the way his voice sounded so casual, like it wasn’t a goddamn crisis that she was passed out drunk in his home. Like it wasn’t a problem that she had disappeared without a word and turned up in the company of a man like him.How the hell did she end up with him of all people?How the hell did she get herself tangled up with Salvatore? The man was oil
I lingered on the balcony longer than I meant to. The moonlight was too soft, the bourbon too smooth, and the night too full of a quiet I hadn't felt in years. For a man like me, silence usually meant a deal gone wrong, a moment to plan, or worse—a trap.But tonight? Tonight, it was peace.Until I reached into my pocket and realized my phone was missing."Damn," I muttered under my breath, patting the inside of my jacket, my slacks, even checking behind the cushion I was sitting on.Nothing.With a sigh, I pushed off the chair and made my way downstairs. The house was mostly dark, save for the golden sconces humming low along the corridor. Somewhere above, I imagined Emily still asleep, tangled in the guest bed, one hand flopped over her stomach like a cartoon character after a wild night.A reluctant smile tugged at my lips.When I got to the car, I found my phone right where I'd left it, tucked between the seats. As I reached for it, I spotted something else.Emily's purse.And her