CHAPTER 3 : RICARDO’S POV

The alarm hit six, and I shut it off with one hand before it got loud enough to bother me. Mornings never started gentle in this house. Servants moving, my father’s voice barking from the study, Elizabeth laughing too hard at something fake. I drowned it all out with cold water on my face and black coffee in my veins.

Phone buzzing. Two messages from Naples, one from Palermo. Business never stopped, even when I was supposed to play college boy. My father liked appearances, and Sicilian Heights College was the stage.

I dressed quick, grabbed my bag, and walked out. The driver offered keys, but I took the wheel myself. I needed the control. Engine roaring down the long driveway, I let the gates open like the world had no choice but to part for me.

The campus was alive already, students grouped in little circles like sheep. Laughter too light for my taste. They stopped when I pulled up. They always did.

“Falconeri.” The guard at the gate said my name with respect that sounded close to fear. I didn’t answer. Fear was enough.

Inside the courtyard, whispers rose.

“That’s him.”

“Ricardo Falconeri. You know his father runs…”

“Shut up, don’t say it too loud.”

“He’s so hot though.”

“He’s dangerous.”

I caught fragments, the same I heard every day. Girls staring, guys pretending they weren’t. It didn’t matter. None of them mattered.

Except… one face kept invading my head, even when she wasn’t here. Aurora. My so-called stepsister. I told myself it was irritation, that she was an intruder in this house, someone I never asked for. But the more I replayed last night, the more that irritation turned into something darker. Her eyes, sharp as knives when she told me off. The way her lips tightened when she tried to hide what she felt.

I gripped the strap of my bag harder. This was wrong. She was forbidden. Yet my blood heated every time I thought of her.

“Hey.” Matteo’s voice cut through the noise.

He leaned against the wall, dressed lazy but looking sharp anyway. My best friend since we were kids, Giovanni’s son, raised in the same shadow. He gave me a grin.

“You look like hell,” he said.

“Morning to you too.”

“Let me guess. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Business.”

“Or a girl?” His smirk widened.

I shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

He laughed. “I knew it. Spill.”

“No.”

Matteo wasn’t stupid. He read me too well. “If it’s who I think it is, you’re insane.”

I shot him a glare. He just raised his hands like he was innocent.

“Relax. I’m your friend, not your priest.”

“Good.” I adjusted my bag. “Because I don’t need confession.”

“Yeah, you do.” He chuckled. “Come on, class is starting.”

Sicilian Heights didn’t deserve to call itself a college. It looked more like a palace pretending to be modern. Too much marble, too much money wasted. Professors droned on about markets and politics like any of these kids cared. Most were here to waste their family’s fortune and hook up behind closed doors.

I sat back, arms folded, half-listening until I felt eyes on me. Girls in the back row, whispering, giggling. One bit her lip when I caught her staring.

Matteo leaned toward me. “Your fan club is early today.”

I didn’t answer. My head wasn’t in the room. It was at home. Aurora had passed me in the hallway last night, hair down, pajamas thin enough I saw the outline of her curves. She didn’t even know the effect she had. Or maybe she did, and that made it worse.

My pen tapped against the desk. I hated that I wanted her. Hated how much I thought about touching her, hearing her breathe my name, seeing her break under me.

Forbidden. Off limits. And yet my body didn’t care about rules.

“Ricardo.”

The professor snapped me out of it. I looked up slow.

“Yes?”

“What did I just say?”

I smirked. “That half the room will fail unless they stop cheating.”

Laughter broke out. The professor scowled but moved on.

Matteo shook his head, grinning. “Smooth.”

I ignored him, eyes narrowing when I spotted movement at the door. Valentina Russo.

Valentina walked in like she owned the place. Red lips, tight dress, heels clicking too loud for a college hall. Every head turned, and she soaked it in. Her eyes landed on me instantly.

“Speak of the devil,” Matteo muttered.

She ignored the professor’s glare and walked straight to my seat. “Ricardo.”

“Valentina.”

“You didn’t call.”

“I was busy.”

Her smile was sharp. “Too busy for me?”

Matteo leaned back, whispering, “This is my cue to disappear.” He stood, stretching. “See you at practice.”

Valentina slid into his empty chair, close enough her perfume wrapped around me. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two nights ago.”

“Not enough.” Her hand rested on my thigh under the desk. “Never enough.”

I caught her wrist, firm. “Not here.”

She pouted. “Why not? Everyone already knows.”

“That’s not the point.”

She leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Then make me understand the point.”

I pulled back, meeting her eyes. “Later.”

Her gaze narrowed, reading me too well. “Something’s different.”

“No.”

“Yes.” She tilted her head. “You’re distracted. Not by me. Who is it?”

“No one.”

She smiled slow. “Liar.”

The professor cleared his throat loudly. “Miss Russo, if you’re done interrupting…”

She waved him off. “Of course, professor.” Then, softer to me, “We’ll talk.”

Basketball practice was worse. My body ran drills, but my head refused to stay on the court. Matteo noticed.

“You’re off,” he said, catching the ball.

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. You’re thinking about her again.”

I froze. “Who?”

He gave me a look. “Don’t play dumb.”

“Drop it.”

“You drop it. Before it ruins you.”

The coach barked at us to focus. We finished the set, but the tension stayed.

In the locker room, Valentina showed up again, leaning against the door like she owned the team too.

“Can’t stay away, huh?” Matteo muttered.

She ignored him, eyes on me. “Ride home?”

“I drove.”

“Then let me in your car.”

I should have said no. But her persistence was easier than explaining why I didn’t want her tonight.

Back at the mansion, night stretched long. Valentina had left angry after I refused to take her upstairs. She hated being denied. She’d be back, though. She always came back.

I poured a drink and sat by the window, city lights flickering in the distance.

Then movement caught my eye. Aurora crossing the hallway below, book in hand, hair falling over her face. Pajamas again. Too soft for this house.

My grip tightened on the glass.

I should have looked away. Instead, I followed her with my eyes until she disappeared into her room.

My body burned. My mind screamed at me to stop.

But the truth was already carved deep.

I wanted her.

No matter the risk, no matter the cost.

And nothing in me planned to let that go.