5

"Rosa? Are you having one of your attacks?"

My mother’s voice was too sharp, too laced with the hyper-vigilance of a woman who had spent thirteen years looking over her shoulder. She knew the exact cadence of my breathing when the walls started closing in.

I swallowed hard, forcing my throat to open, forcing my voice to sound smooth, light, and entirely unaffected by the ghost of the fire that had just been choking me. "No, Mom. I'm fine. Just a little tired. The pre-wedding dinner ran late, and it’s... it's a lot of people."

A heavy sigh traveled across the transatlantic line. "Good. Because when you told me you were going back there to help Adrian... my chest has been tight ever since. You don't belong in Italy, Rosa. You belong here, where it’s safe."

"I know," I whispered, looking at my trembling hands. "I know."

"Anyway, I called because I needed a distraction, and honestly, so do you," she said, her tone suddenly shifting, a rare, genuine lightness bleeding into her words. "I met someone, Rosa."

I blinked, the lingering fog of the panic attack clearing slightly. "What?"

"A boyfriend. A real one," she murmured, sounding almost like a teenager hiding a secret. "He’s an architect. He’s gentle, he listens, and he doesn't have a single drop of blood on his hands."

The sheer relief of hearing her sound happy sent a wave of warmth through my chest, momentarily pushing back the memory of Giovanni's predatory grip. "Mom, that’s incredible. Tell me everything. What's his name? How did you meet?"

"Oh, absolutely not," she laughed, though there was a firm boundary behind it. "I am not spilling all the details over an international phone call.You want the gossip? You have to come back to America to get it."

"Deal," I said, a lump forming in my throat. I didn't just want to go back. I needed to go back. Before Giovanni completely burned down the fragile life I had built. "I love you, Mom."

"Love you too, sweetie. Get some sleep."

The line went dead.

I stared at the black screen of my phone, the silence of the guest room crashing back over me. I couldn't wait until after the wedding. I couldn't risk being in that church tomorrow, watching Giovanni tie himself to Elena while knowing his fingers had just shredded my dress in a bathroom stall.

My thumbs flew across the screen, opening a chat with Adrian.

Rosa: Adrian, I need to go back to America. Tomorrow morning. I can't stay for the wedding.

I expected him to be asleep. I expected him to reply with confusion, or to tell me we'd talk about it at breakfast.

Instead, the typing bubbles appeared instantly.

Adrian:Come outside your room.

I opened the heavy guest room door, my breath catching in my throat as I stepped out into the dim, carpeted corridor.

Adrian was leaning against the opposite wall, his hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his slacks. The soft, golden lighting of the hallway caught the gentle, comforting expression on his face. He looked entirely like the safe harbor he had always pretended to be—the fiercely protective, dependable friend who had pulled me into his orbit when I needed a lifeline.

The moment his eyes found mine, his posture shifted. He took a step forward, his gaze scanning my pale face and the absolute exhaustion rolling off me.

"Hey," he said, his voice dropping into a low, soothing cadence that was meant to instantly disarm me. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Rosa."

"Adrian, I'm sorry," I began, my voice trembling as I clutched the edge of the doorframe. "I know it's your sister's wedding tomorrow. I know I promised I'd be here to support her, but I can't. I just... I need to go home. Tonight has been too much."

Adrian didn't get angry. He didn't demand an explanation or question my sudden panic. Instead, a wave of deep, unconditional concern washed over his features. He stepped closer, stopping just short of invading my personal space, completely respecting my boundaries in a way that stood in stark contrast to the predatory, suffocating dominance Giovanni had just trapped me with.

"Step out here," he murmured gently, extending a warm hand, palm up, offering me comfort without demanding anything in return. "Breathe, Rosa. Look at me."

I took a shaky step into the hallway, closing the door behind me to hide the disaster of my torn dress on the floor.

"I don't know what happened down at that dinner to shake you up like this," Adrian said softly, his eyes searching mine with a look of pure, unadulterated sweetness that would make any reader's heart melt. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready. But I'm not going to let you spiral alone in a dark room."

He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against my arm in a reassuring, completely safe touch. "If Italy is suffocating you, if this house is too much, I will get you out. I don't care about the wedding schedules, and I don't care what my father says. Your safety and your peace of mind come before any of this syndicate nonsense. If you want to fly back to America tomorrow morning, I’ll personally drive you to the airport myself."

Hearing those words, a massive wave of relief washed through me. He was being so incredibly kind, so selfless, putting my needs above his own family's biggest night.

I looked up at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "Thank you, Adrian. Really. You have no idea what that means to me."

"You don't ever have to thank me," he smiled, a perfectly warm, gentle expression that radiated absolute loyalty. He gave my shoulder a soft, comforting squeeze. "Go get some rest. Pack your things. I’ll handle the logistics and make sure a car is ready for us before dawn. Nobody is going to trap you here, Rosa. I promise."

I nodded, offering him a weak, grateful smile before slipping back into my room and locking the door.

As I turned toward my suitcase, my heart felt a fraction lighter. Adrian was my shield. With him helping me escape, I was actually going to make it out of this place before the wedding bells started to ring.