LOGINViolette
My drive home passed in a blur as these thoughts filled my head, and before I knew it I was pulling into my apartment’s underground parking lot.
I turned my car off and got out.
As I opened the door to my apartment, the familiar sight of Aria greeted me sitting on the couch, her MacBook open in front of her and her phone pressed to her ear. She was nodding along to whatever the person on the other end was saying, her eyes fixed on the screen as she typed away.
"Hey, girl!" she exclaimed, holding up a finger to signal that she'd be a minute. "I'm almost done with this project, and then we can catch up," she said into the phone, her eyes flicking up to meet mine.
I smiled and dropped my bag on the floor, feeling a sense of relief wash over me as I kicked off my shoes. I walked over to the couch and plopped down beside her, peeking at the screen to see what she was working on. It looked like some kind of coding project, and I did not know what any of it meant.
Aria wrapped up her call a minute later, closing her laptop and turning to me with a smile. "Hey, how was your day?" she asked, concern etched on her face.
I shrugged, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. "It was long. ICU days always are."
Aria nodded sympathetically, getting up to grab me a glass of water from the kitchen. "You deserve a break after that," she said, handing me the glass. "What do you want to do tonight?"
I took a sip of the water, feeling grateful for my friend's company. "Just relax, I think. Maybe watch a movie or something."
Aria nodded, smiling. "Sounds like a plan to me."
She settles back on the couch, picks up the remote and turns on the TV
“So…” she hesitates. Aria never hesitates.
“What?” I say, glancing at her, and the sympathetic look on her face tells me I might not like what she is about to say.
“My sister Alessia…” she pauses waiting for me to give her a go ahead, which I do by arching an eyebrow.
Aria’s sister Alessia, we met last three years on my twenty-third birthday trip to Thailand with Aria.
Actually Aria invited her, she said she wanted to make it memorable for me and her sister is know to be the life of the party.
I had fun; it was the best birthday I have ever had.
“Her wedding got moved to February”
Aria's eyes locked onto mine, a mix of excitement and apprehension dancing in them. "She wants you to be her bridesmaid.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Why me?" I asked, setting my glass of water on the coffee table.
Aria shrugged. "You're one of her favorite people, and she thinks you'd be perfect for the role. Plus, she only has one friend, her best friend Mia, and she's her maid of honor."
I chuckled. "That's a pretty good reason, I suppose."
Aria nodded enthusiastically. "I know she'd love to have you there. She's really excited about the wedding, and I know she'd be thrilled if you said yes."
I thought about it for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. Being a bridesmaid would mean dedicating some time and effort to the wedding preparations, but it would also be a great opportunity to reconnect with Alexis and spend more time with Aria.
"What do you think?" I asked Aria, seeking her opinion.
Aria grinned. "I think you should do it. You'd be an amazing bridesmaid, and it would mean the world to Alexis."
I smiled, feeling a sense of decisiveness wash over me. "Alright, I'll do it."
Aria squealed with excitement, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. "Thank you, Violette! I'll let Alexis know, and she'll be over the moon."
As Aria pulled back, a thought occurred to me. "When is the wedding again?"
Aria's face lit up with a smile. "February. We'll have plenty of time to get everything sorted out."
I nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation building. Being a bridesmaid in Alexis's wedding would be an adventure, and I was ready to take on the challenge.
I quickly freshened up and joined Aria in the sitting room. She was already settled on the couch, surrounded by snacks and drinks.
I plopped down beside Aria on the couch, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "You know, being a bridesmaid might just be the excuse I need to take a break from work," I said with a grin.
Aria's eyes lit up with amusement. "Exactly! You deserve a break, Violette. You've been working non-stop in the ICU. A month off wouldn't hurt, if you ask me."
“Yeah, it’s been two years since I last took a break”
Aria nodded in agreement. "This wedding is the perfect opportunity for you to take some time off and recharge."
I nodded, feeling a sense of excitement at the prospect of having some time to myself. "You're right. I could use a break from the hospital chaos."
Aria smiled mischievously. "And I'll make sure you take it easy. No checking work emails or taking calls during your bridesmaid duties."
I laughed, feeling grateful for my friend's understanding. "Deal."
"So, what's the plan for tonight?" I asked, nodding towards the TV.
"We're binge-watching Gilmore girls” Aria replied, holding up the remote. " And I've got the snacks covered." She gestures to snacks piled on the coffee table.
I grinned, snuggling into the couch. "Sounds perfect to me."
Violette2:36 a.m.I stared at the digital clock on my bedside table. The neon-red numbers were the only thing cutting through the oppressive darkness of my room. I had given up trying to sleep hours ago. Every time I closed my eyes, I just saw the cold, closed-off look on Renzo’s face in the car, heard the finality in his voice when he shut me out.No calls. No texts. Just silence.I guessed he wasn’t coming either.Tears stung my eyes, hot and shameful. I bit my lip, hard, to keep them at bay. God, I was so pathetic. Wanting to cry because we had our first real argument. Was it even an argument? It felt more like a door slamming in my face.I closed my eyes, trying to force my body to relax, but I was hyper-aware of everything. The silky, expensive feel of the burgundy La Perla nightgown he bought me—a stupid, hopeful choice when I got ready for bed. The cool weight of the sapphire drop necklace resting in the hollow of my throat, another gift. I felt like a traitor to my own anger,
Renzo The address Alessandro sent was a studio apartment in the West Loop. Tenant: a Mike Floyd. The building was a bland, modern thing. I took the stairs, my footsteps silent on the concrete. Apartment 4B. I stood in front of the brown door and knocked twice. The re-screwed the silencer into the gun, the metal threads catching with a soft, final click. I flexed my hand. It had been a long time since I’d held one like this, not that I was out of practice. I made sure to stay sharp. But I usually let other people take care of my business for me. Not today. Not this business. This was mine and mine alone. I raised my fist to knock for the second time, my jaw clenched so tight it ached. Whoever was behind this door had five seconds to open it before I— The door swung open to reveal a shirtless, lanky guy with wet hair and an annoyed expression on his face. "Yeah, what?" he grunted. We stared at each other. Him, annoyed that I was staring without saying what I wanted. Me,
Renzo Papa always said one thing whenever Marco questioned him about how he met Mama. My brother was a hopeless romantic even with his knuckles perpetually scraped from fights, already obsessed with the idea of a soulmate at eleven years old. And Papa would always reply with the same words. You don't find her. You recognize her. It's like coming home. No noise. No questions. Just a quiet certainty. I thought it was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard. I didn't think that anymore. The hum of the jet was a low, steady sound, but it was nothing compared to the silence inside me. A good silence. The kind of silence you find in the eye of a storm, a perfect, peaceful center where everything just stops. That was what her weight against my shoulder did. It stopped the noise. For most of my life, my head had been a loud place. A constant, grinding calculation of business, of strategy, of threats, of power. It was how I was raised. It was how I built what I had. It was a relentless engine
RenzoThe penthouse is unsettlingly quiet when I walk in, the kind of quiet that makes me briefly wonder if I’ve stepped into the wrong place. All the lights are off, not even the soft glow of the hallway sconces greeting me. New York hums beneath us, horns, a siren in the distance, the muted chaos of the city that never goes to bed, but up here, on the top floor, it feels like I’ve entered another world.I loosen the noose around my neck—otherwise known as my tie, and sling it over the arm of a chair by the foyer. It's been one hell of a day at work, finalizing details for the Manhattan project before we head back to Chicago tomorrow. The kind of day where numbers blur into each other and my phone never stops buzzing. And truth? I barely registered any of it. Because all I could think about, obsess over, really was getting back here, to her. Back to Violette.If I hadn’t forced myself to go handle this last bit of business, I already know what I’d be doing: booking a return flight he
VioletteThe night smelled like saltwater and champagne before we were even close to the docks. New York had that way of pressing itself against your senses all at once: the hum of the West Side Highway, the glittering skyline carved against obsidian, and the restless tug of the Hudson, black but alive with reflections of light.Renzo’s hand rested at the small of my back, steady and warm. People’s eyes followed him as we walked—of course they did. Tall, sharp in his all-white suit, he looked like he’d been conjured straight out of some legend about beautiful men who owned entire cities.But this time, for once, I didn’t feel like the interloper.I wasn’t shrinking in his shadow. Not anymore.Yes, the dress I wore was simple, a white satin slip that grazed just above my ankles, matched with strappy heels I had to consciously survive with every step, but tonight, as the city’s glow washed over us, I wasn’t comparing myself to him. I was thinking about last night. About the way he’d loo
RenzoThe sound of the FaceTime ringtone sliced through the lazy, honey-colored quiet of the afternoon.That obnoxious iPhone trill didn’t belong here, didn’t belong to us, not when I had Violette exactly where I wanted her.She tastes like chocolate and stubbornness, both my favorite addictions. She tries to pull her lips free, probably to answer the phone, but come on—like I’m going to let that happen. I capture her laughter with another kiss, diving deeper, slipping my tongue past her lips just to hear that muffled little squeal she gives when she pretends to resist.She bites my tongue with absolutely zero force. I grin into her mouth; she’s laughing, I’m definitely winning.The damn ringtone keeps chiming like an unwelcome referee. My hand anchors against the small of her back, dragging her closer even as she wriggles, half-annoyed, half-amused. I have no shame; sue me for being obsessed.We’d been in bed all day. Literally. Bed. Day. Done. Kissing, laughing, half-heartedly watch







