LOGINThe problem with dating Luca Moretti was that the internet remembered everything. Unfortunately, so did Monaco. Sienna realized this at eight-thirty on a Wednesday morning while half-awake in Luca’s kitchen wearing his sweatshirt and scrolling through her phone beside the espresso machine. Then she saw the headline.
MORETTI’S MOST INFAMOUS EX SPEAKS AGAIN: “HE NEVER REALLY CHANGES.”
Sienna froze. The article had alread
London greeted her with a familiar chill, the kind that slipped beneath her coat and settled against her skin like an old memory. The sky was a muted grey, the kind she’d grown up under, the kind she’d once thought she’d escaped forever. But as the plane descended and the city unfolded beneath her — the winding Thames, the clusters of brick buildings, the blur of traffic — she felt something she hadn’t expected.Relief. A quiet, steady exhale she hadn’t realized se’d been holding.She stepped out of Heathrow with her camera bag slung over her shoulder, her suitcase rolling behind her, and the cool air brushing her cheeks. For the first time in months, she wasn’t stepping into Luca’s world. She wasn’t walking into a penthouse or a yacht or a place where people whispered his name like a currency. She was stepping into her own life again — the one she’d built long bef
Monaco glittered beneath the late‑afternoon sun, all polished yachts and mirrored windows and people who pretended to care about everything while caring about nothing at all. Sienna had once been dazzled by it — the glamour, the speed, the illusion of importance. Now it felt like a place she had outgrown without meaning to.Word of her departure had spread quickly, the way everything did in this city. But the reaction was predictable: a few raised brows, a handful of speculative whispers, a couple of socialites murmuring, *“She’ll be back. They always come back.”* To Monaco, she was a temporary curiosity. To Luca, she was not.He stood beside her on the balcony of his penthouse, the breeze lifting the hem of her shirt as she leaned against the railing. The Mediterranean stretched endlessly before them, shimmering like liquid gold. Below, the city pulsed with its usual rhythm — engines revving, champagne pouring, cameras flashin
Sienna had forgotten how quiet her Monaco apartment could be. Not peaceful quiet or comforting quiet. It was the kind of quiet that reminded her she had once lived here alone, worked here alone, slept here alone — and had fully expected to keep doing so for years.The door clicked shut behind her, and dust motes drifted lazily through the slanted afternoon light. Her suitcase wheels bumped over the threshold. The air smelled faintly of old coffee grounds and the lavender candle she’d burned the last night she stayed here. That felt like a lifetime ago.Luca stepped in behind her, his presence filling the small space instantly. He didn’t belong in apartments like this — too small, too human, too lived‑in. He belonged in penthouses with glass walls and private elevators. He belonged on yachts with champagne chilling in silver buckets. He belonged in places where the world bent around him.And yet he stood here, in her cram
The private jet landed in Monaco just after noon and somehow the city looked different. Not because anything had changed but because Florence had reminded them what life felt like when nobody was watching.The moment Sienna stepped onto the tarmac, reality returned. Her phone started pinging in her bag. Luca glanced at his screen once before sighing.“That bad?”“Twenty-three emails.”“You checked for three seconds.”“That was enough.”Sienna laughed softly as they walked toward the waiting car. For forty-eight hours they had forgotten about everyone else and remembered what it felt like to simply be together.Unfortunately, none of it had forgotten about them.—By Monday morning the penthouse looked less like a home and more like campaign hea
Luca decided they were leaving Florence approximately twelve minutes after ending a conference call. Technically, they were leaving *for* Florence. The distinction mattered. Mostly because Sienna was fairly certain kidnapping laws still existed.“No.”Luca looked up from his phone.“No?”“No.”“We haven't discussed anything yet.”“You booked something.”“I may have.”“You booked something expensive.”“Probably.”“You booked something expensive in another country.”Luca looked delighted.“See? You already know me.”Sienna stared at him from across the penthouse kitchen. It was Saturday evening. The Maison Laurent contract had been finalized the day before. She should have been celebrating. Instead sh
The opportunity arrived on a Tuesday morning while Sienna was still in bed.Her phone buzzed against the nightstand and she reached for it blindly.Theo. At eight in the morning. That was already suspicious.“Please tell me nobody died,” she mumbled as she answered.“Good morning to you too.”“Theo.”“You should sit down.”Sienna opened one eye.“I’m literally horizontal.”“Perfect.”That sounded worse.Beside her, Luca slept peacefully, one arm draped across her waist beneath the sheets. His breathing remained slow and even.Sienna lowered her voice.“What happened?”Theo made a dramatic noise.&nb







