Chapter 4

It wasn’t long before the shadow of Alexandro Campania crept into my every thought.

The villa had been a dream. Or maybe a nightmare—both at the same time. My fingers still tingled from where his touch had brushed against my hairpin, his presence heavy and unrelenting. Even as I sat at the tiny kitchen table in my apartment that night, I couldn’t shake the memory of his words, the sharp intensity in his eyes.

He wasn’t done with me. Not yet.

And that thought should have scared me, should have made me lock the door, draw the blinds, and pray he wouldn’t find me. But instead, I found myself yearning for more.

I had a role to play. I knew that. The sweet, innocent woman with no past. That was what he saw. It was all he could see.

But it was getting harder to remember why I was pretending.

The next morning, the usual hum of the flower shop felt quieter. The bell above the door chimed as customers came and went, but my mind was elsewhere. As I cut stems and arranged vases, I found myself wondering how long I could keep the act up. My father had raised me to be sharp, ruthless when necessary, but also to stay hidden. I had learned early to avoid the spotlight, to stay in the shadows where no one could ask too many questions.

But Alexandro? He was the spotlight.

And I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

I couldn’t afford to let him know the truth.

I couldn’t let him in.

But with every visit, with every smile he gave me, with every laugh that escaped him when he caught me off guard, I found myself forgetting why. Why I couldn’t. Why I shouldn’t.

That evening, the doorbell rang again.

It was him. Again.

“I need more flowers,” he said, his voice low and gruff as usual, but there was an undercurrent of something else—something softer.

“More?” I repeated, lifting an eyebrow. “For what?”

“A surprise,” he said, stepping in and watching me closely. “You’re the only one I trust with this.”

I nodded, masking the sudden rush of adrenaline that coursed through me. “Of course. What kind of flowers?”

He crossed the room and leaned against the counter, his eyes following me as I picked up the small notebook where I kept a list of all my arrangements.

“For her,” he said. “I need something that will make her feel special. But not too much. She’s… delicate.”

“Delicate?” I asked, pretending to be intrigued.

“Yeah. She doesn’t like to be shown off.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. The woman he was speaking about was his mother, a woman whose reputation and power were enough to make anyone bow their head. I was certain she wouldn’t mind being shown off at all. But I didn’t say it. Instead, I nodded and got to work, pulling flowers I knew would be perfect for such a request.

“It’s for her birthday, isn’t it?” I asked casually as I arranged the lilies and roses into the bouquet.

“Yeah,” Alexandro replied. “She’s a fan of soft, romantic things.”

“Like you?” I said without thinking.

He didn’t respond at first, his gaze heavy. Then, the corner of his lips twitched upward.

“I’m not soft,” he said, his voice taking on a darker tone.

“I didn’t say you were,” I replied, meeting his gaze. My heart beat faster as I realized how close he was. How dangerous he felt. But I didn’t pull away.

“You’re right,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter now. “But sometimes, I wish I could be.”

The flowers were done by the time his mother’s party started. He took them from me with little fanfare, leaving a crisp banknote on the counter before heading out, still as unreadable as ever. But there was a glint in his eyes—a flicker of something hidden beneath the surface that I was only beginning to understand.

The night passed in a blur. I cleaned the shop, closed the blinds, and locked the door, but I couldn’t sleep. Not while thinking of him.

The following days were filled with more visits. More flowers. More quiet exchanges that left my heart racing long after he left. I was starting to wonder if I was playing with fire.

But the truth was, I couldn’t stop. The need to be close to him was consuming me. It was like a drug.

I knew I couldn’t keep pretending forever, but at the same time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop.

One afternoon, as I arranged peonies for a wedding order, the door swung open again. This time, though, Alexandro didn’t come in alone.

He had a woman with him.

She was beautiful—tall, blonde, graceful in a way that made her look like she’d stepped out of a magazine. Her eyes were a pale blue, sharp and calculating as they scanned the shop. I noticed the way she held herself, the way Alexandro looked at her like she was someone important.

I forced myself to stay calm.

“This is Mariana,” Alexandro said, nodding to the woman beside him.

I smiled, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Nice to meet you.”

Mariana didn’t smile back. Instead, she glanced at Alexandro, then at me. “I didn’t realize you were in the business of flowers.”

I nodded. “I’ve been doing this for years. I take pride in my work.”

Her lips curled into a thin smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “How quaint.”

Alexandro was quiet, his eyes flicking between us. I could tell he was watching me closely, trying to read the situation.

Mariana didn’t stay long. She left after a few short, tense moments, leaving me alone with Alexandro again. But the silence between us felt heavier now, as if the weight of the woman’s presence had somehow shifted things.

“I didn’t expect that,” I said, finally breaking the silence.

Alexandro didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a long look at me. “She’s... important to me.”

The words struck me like a slap, but I didn’t let it show. “I see.”

“And you’re important to me too,” he added, his voice low, almost a growl.

I swallowed, trying to steady my breathing. “Am I?”

He nodded. “But I still don’t know who you really are.”

I glanced away, feeling my heart race. This was the moment where everything could fall apart. If he pushed too hard, if I gave too much away...

But I wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

“Maybe I’ll never tell you,” I said, meeting his gaze again.

He stepped closer, his breath warm against my skin. “I think you will.”

And with that, I knew the game had changed.