LOGINALESSANDREFrom my penthouse, I could see her lights across the street. I knew she was still awake. She never slept when there was a problem. Neither did I.I fixed myself a drink and leaned against the glass railing, lost in thought. The truth was ugly and simple. Every time she looked at me now, I saw the same thing in her eyes.You destroyed me.But I didn’t.At least… not the way she thinks I did.I closed my eyes, the scotch heavy on my tongue.The sound of the rain blurred out, replaced by something else—a night six years ago, a boardroom full of smoke and whispers, and the beginning of everything that went to hell.FLASHBACK— THE NIGHT IT ALL WENT UP IN FLAMES."Just one dinner." Remi pushed the invitation across my desk. "There’ll be private investors, low-key. And besides, Luna wants you there."I didn't bother looking up. "I don't do Luna's dinners anymore.""You should tonight," she said, leaning against my desk as if it were hers. "The expansion contract's on the line. Sh
OPHELIAThe trip back home was very tense. No surprise there considering the fucking bomb that was dropped on our heads.I settled back in the my seat, looking at my own reflection in the window. Slowly, I’d started lookingunrcognizable to even myself. I turned away from my reflection.Charlotte was glued to her phone, barking into the receiver in that clipped, clinical tone she used when shit went down. She was doing a much needed damage control.Alessandre sat beside me, silent. His jaw was set and his hands were spread out on his lap, but I knew that he wasn’t calm. Not after what he’s heard.He hadn't said anything to me since we left that restroom. Maybe he was finally backing down.My chest clenched painfully at that thought.Did you know about the pregnancy?Fuck.How the hell did they find out about that piece of info? The only person I’ve ever told was Charlotte, and I wasn’t about to let myself believe she sold me out.Charlotte finally ended her call and rubbed her forehea
ALESSANDREI couldn’t sleep.The magazine was still opened on my bedside table, our faces plastered across like our live weren’t royally fucked right now.I had to give it to the media team. They made us look impressive.I drew my thumb across the shape of her face, the smooth paper sparkling in the light. If I concentrated hard enough, I could almost taste her lips on mine.But this wasn't her. This was just a picture. A weaponized fantasy sold to a world that lived on lies.I’d ignored all the calls and text. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I headed to the living room to refill my glass which was hardly a bother as I needed something to ground me. To convince me that Charlotte’s ludricous plan was good for publicity. That we were winning.But all I could think about was the look she'd given me when she'd stormed out of that dressing room.Ophelia wasn’t happy at all. And I didn’t like when she wasn’t happy.I heard a beep from my door, and Matteo walked casually, still in his signa
OPHELIABy morning, the storm had reduced to a mist. Yet I was still restless. I remained in bed, looking up at the ceiling of the cliff house, replaying Charlotte's words in my head. Pick a date. Be the fairytale they want.Every choice, during the last six years of my life, had been a matter of control—what I said, what I built, whom I let in. And once again, I was being driven to give a performance to those shit heads. And this time, my co-star was the man who'd destroyed me.When I closed my eyes, I swear, I could still feel him. His breath, his gentle touch, the rough sound he made when I moaned his name. The memory was so strong, so present, that it seemed almost treasonous to remember it. Because what we'd shared wasn’t just a spark or whatever the hell I wanted to name it. It was what we were. Or once were, even though the thing between us felt more alive than it had ever been. But now, Charlotte wanted to use it. And yes, I’m aware it isn’t her fault, but it doesn’t make me
OPHELIAI opened my eyes to the sound of the ocean crashing against glass. I didn’t know where I was, only that I was warm, and sore in the gentlest of ways, and trapped by an arm around my waist, that kept getting tighter.Then I remembered. The cliffside house. The picture. Alessandre.His breath rustled my hair, his hand squeezing my hip even asleep, like his body didn’t trust that I’ll still be here when he woke up. I laid there, my gaze on the rain-specked glass roof above, feeling free to let myself sink into him for once, for a moment.When the sun came up fully, it would all turn to dust.After a while, I slid out of bed slowly, making sure not to wake him. My robe was on the ground, discarded in hours before we'd moved to the bedroom for another round. I pulled it on quickly, tightening the sash with shaky hands. The storm outside had died down, but the one in my chest hadn't.I felt him before I heard his voice. "Running again?"I stopped.I guess I wasn’t quiet enough, I t
ALESSANDRE The storm was brewing when we left Manhattan. Black clouds loomed like smoke over the Hudson, as wind whipped sheets of rain across the windshield until the city lights became a gold and grey blur. I took the Maserati low and fast, the tyres moving over the rain-damp pavement. Each mile of distance from her penthouse apartment was a small victory, yet the tension between us grew.Ophelia sat stiff beside me, her arms crossed beneath the leather jacket I’d thrown over her shoulders. The dashboard lights highlighted her profile in a haunting silver—sharp cheekbones, her full lips pressed thin, and amber eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.She hadn’t said a word since we’d left the underground garage.Finally, she spoke, her voice low but clear. “Kidnapping me was not part of the agreement.”“You were obviously not safe there,” I answered.“That’s not an answer as far as I’m concerned.”God this woman and her stubbornness.“Well, it's the only one that counts." I turned down







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