FAZER LOGIN~FIORELLA~“What was that with Clara all about?”The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.For a second, Lucas just stares at me, and his expression is too blank.Then he slowly takes off his jacket and tosses it over the back of the nearest chair.“What was what?” he asks casually.I blink.I actually blink at him.“What?” I ask.He looks at me with an innocent expression that would almost be convincing if I didn't know him so well.“With Clara,” I say.He loosens his tie. “What about Clara?”“You know exactly what I'm talking about, Lucas.” My jaw tightens.“I'm afraid I don't, Fiorella.” He gives me a confused look.I stare at him, and he stares back.Something hot begins crawling up my neck.“Lucas,” I call tentatively.“Yes?” he answers in a nonchalant tone. “Don't,” I say, suddenly irritated with his tone.His eyebrows lift. “Don't what?”I let out a sharp breath. “Stop pretending you don't understand me.”“I genuinely don't,” he replies. “Bullshit.
~FIORELLA~I stay in the bathroom much longer than I need to.I stand in front of the mirror with both palms pressed against the edge of the marble sink, staring at my reflection as if the woman looking back at me might have some sensible explanation for what just happened.My face is still warm. My heart is still beating far too quickly.And, annoyingly, my eyes look suspiciously close to panic.I hate that.I hate feeling out of control….. especially here.Especially tonight.I close my eyes and take a slow breath, then another.“Pull yourself together, Fiorella.”My voice sounds quieter than I expect.I straighten, and smooth my dress over my hips, fix my hair, check my lipstick, and stare at myself again.There's no panic now.Nothing.I am Fiorella Vincenzo Romano.I don't panic. I don't get intimidated.And I certainly don't allow another woman to make me feel inferior.Clara doesn't matter.Whatever she thinks she is doing doesn't matter.And Lucas…I stop
~LUCAS~I have never understood women.Maybe that's a terrible thing to admit, especially considering I'm sitting at a dinner table with two of them, but it's the truth.Clara hasn't spoken to her once….not once.She didn't even say hello properly when we arrived.She walked straight toward me, then she spent most of dinner talking to me.And Fiorella?She hasn't complained. She hasn't said anything.But I know her well enough now to understand what that silence means.She's annoyed…..very annoyed.And strangely enough, I find myself wondering why women don't simply talk to each other.Men are simple.If two men were in this situation, we'd probably shake hands, exchange names and move on.If a man doesn't like another man, he'll usually make it obvious. Women? Women can sit three feet apart and communicate an entire war through nothing but their eyes.And tonight, I'm beginning to think Fiorella and Clara have silently declared one.I glance at Fiorella.She's
~FIORELLA~Finding Mr. Maxwell's house takes longer than expected.It's tucked away in one of the more exclusive parts of the city, behind a tall stone wall and enormous iron gates.When the gates open, I stare through the window.The property is breathtaking. The house itself looks more like a historic estate than an ordinary residence.Warm lights glow through the windows.A long driveway leads toward the entrance.Lucas whistles softly. "This is a house?"I laugh.“Oh, com'on ... .My dad's houses are way bigger than this. This looks small compared to what my dad's house looks like,” I say.Lucas turns to look at me in stunned disbelief.“Really?? Are you serious right now?” He asks.“Yes,” I tell him.“Wow. He must be fucking rich. Can you tell me more?” He says.“No. Now let's get out of the car,” I say, flashing a smile at him.We step out of the car and walk towards the main door.Before we can knock, the door opens.A woman welcomes us and leads us insi
~FIORELLA~The next morning arrives far too quickly.I barely remember falling asleep. One moment, I was lying against Lucas's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The next, sunlight was slipping through the curtains and I was waking up with my cheek pressed against his chest and his arm still wrapped comfortably around my waist.For several seconds, I don't move. I simply lie there.His warmth surrounds me, and the faint scent of his cologne clings to the pillow.Then reality hits me.We're supposed to be at the university soon. And I'm in Lucas's bed.I slowly lift my head to see that Lucas is still asleep.His face looks different when he's sleeping....softer, younger, and less guarded.I smile without meaning to.Then I remember myself.Oh God….I was the one that asked to sleep in his bed last night.He's really going to tease me about it this morning.I need to flee from his bed before he wakes up.I carefully remove his arm from around m
~FIORELLA~“Yes, let's really explore” I say excitedly. “Tomorrow can wait.”And that's how our evening begins.We walk even though we don't have a plan or a destination.We simply follow the streets and see where they take us.The further we go, the more beautiful everything becomes.Historic buildings stand beside narrow streets. The lights begin glowing as evening settles in, reflecting against the damp pavement.At one point, we stop near a beautiful old structure, and I stare at it in fascination.“This is gorgeous.”Lucas looks at me instead of the building. “You've said that about everything today.”“Because everything is gorgeous,” I tell him, still staring at the building.“Everything?” he asks.I turn to him. “Yes.”He smiles. “You're easily impressed. You keep staring.”“I'm appreciating things,” I say. “And there's nothing wrong with staring.”“There is when you're staring at me,” he tells me and my cheeks heat.“Well, it's a good thing I wasn't staring
~NICO~“Dad, I'm not quitting school. I love it there” I say angrily to my father.Vincenzo, Riccardo and I are in my father's private office and he called us for a meeting because he heard I was at Elena's school yesterday.Yes, I get that father has eyes everywhere but wh
~ELENA~The whispers multiply until it feels like the entire hallway has turned into a low hum of excitement.“Who is he? Does anyone know?”“They say he is doing his masters.”“I heard he's transferred.”“Transferred? He looks like he walked straight out of a magazine.”“D
~NICO~The moment my fist connects with Alessandro’s jaw, the sound is louder than I expect. A sharp crack that silences even the shrieks around us.He stumbles, spits blood, and collapses onto the floor.The crowd roars….half in shock, half in awe. Phones are out, cap
Alessandro stands in the middle of his father’s office, tall and impassive, hands in his pockets, face unreadable. His black shirt clings to his frame, sleeves rolled to the elbows, veins prominent, tattoos peeking at his wrists. The room is thick with tension.Behind the heavy mahogany desk sits







