ログインZara's POVI hear him before I hear Luca.His footsteps are heavy, dragging against the hallway floor. They stop outside my door. I sit up in bed, my heart pounding. He is here…he came back.I hear him slide down against the door, his ragged breathing coming through the door. I hear the weight of him pressing against the wood. I press my palm to my chest, trying to steady myself.‘Open the door. Just open the door. Let him in. Let him explain.’I don’t move.Minutes pass, maybe longer; I don’t know. I just sit there, staring at the door, feeling him on the other side of it. I want to open it and believe him. I want to let him hold me and tell me it was all a mistake.I can’t. My hands are clenched in my lap, the tears are already falling. I press my fist to my mouth to keep from making a sound. I want to confront him and scream at him. I want to ask him why he did this to me.I’m rooted to my bed.Then I hear Luca's voice, low and urgent. He says something I can’t catch. I hear V
Valerio's POVI’ve barely slept.Everything feels too wrong—the bed is too soft, the room too quiet, the silence too loud. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Nonno's words echo in my head. Devi sistemare le cose. Prima che diventi troppo tardi. (You need to fix things. Before it becomes too late.)I don’t know how to fix anything.Gray light filters through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the room. I drag myself out of bed, my body heavy, my mind numb, and dress in a dark shirt and trousers, run a hand through my hair, and walk toward the dining room.Nonno is already there.He is seated at the head of the long table, a cup of espresso in his hand, his posture straight and commanding. The table is set with fresh bread, cheeses, cured meats, and fruit, the smell of coffee filling the air. It’s a tradition to always have breakfast together with the family when we’re all here. But today, it feels like a trial."Siediti,"
Valerio's POVI am still sitting on the cold floor outside her door when Luca approaches me.The tears have dried on my cheeks. The hallway is dark and silent, and the only sound is the faint hum of the building's heating. I don’t know how long I have been here. Might be minutes, hours, It does not matter. I am not going anywhere."Valerio." Luca's voice is low, urgent. I don’t look up. "Valerio, get up.""I can’t leave.""You have to. Security just called. Your grandfather arrived from Italy. He is at the estate."I freeze. The words cut through the fog of my despair like a blade. My grandfather—Nonno.He is the only person who can look at me and see through every mask, every lie, every carefully constructed wall. He built this empire, shaped me into the man I am and he will not hesitate to tear me apart if he thinks I have lost my way."Valerio." Luca crouches down beside me. "You can’t ignore him. You know that."I close my eyes and think about Zara on the other side of this door,
Valerio's POVThe drive from the airport is silent. I sit in the back of the car, my head against the window, watching the city blur past. I left her at the tarmac and walked away without looking back. I told myself it was the right thing to do.But I guess I am wrong.I close my eyes, and I see her face. I see the way she stepped around my hand on the boat, the way she sat at the far end, staring at the horizon, refusing to look at me. I see the way her floral dress fluttered in the breeze, the way her hair was tied up in a bun, exposing the elegant line of her neck that I had kissed just hours before.I feel the weight of everything pressing down on me—the storm, the candlelight, her perfect skin beneath my fingers, the way she told me she loved me without saying the words.And then the way she looked at me on the plane, cold and empty. Done.My phone buzzes, but I ignore it. It buzzes again, and again. I glance at the screen. A message from a business partner, “Congratulations.” A
Zara's POVThe private jet hums beneath me, smooth and steady, carrying us back to the world I left behind. I sit as far from him as possible, my body angled toward the window, watching the clouds drift past. The sky is clear now, blue and endless, a cruel contrast to the storm that still rages inside me.He tries to talk to me."Zara."I ignore him."Zara, please. Just—""I want to be left alone." My voice is flat, my face still angled toward the window. He is silent for a long moment. I feel his gaze on me, heavy and desperate, but I don’t give in."On the island," he says, his voice low. "What we had—""Was a mistake." I cut him off, the words sharp and final. "We are heading home now. That is reality. So please, just act like the boss that you are. Leave me alone."The silence that follows is cold and heavy. I keep my eyes fixed on the clouds, my hands clasped in my lap. He doesn’t speak again for the rest of the flight.I watch the clouds drift past, but I don’t see them. I see
Valerio's POV"Clara."The name tastes like ash in my mouth. I watch Zara's face crumble; hurt crosses her face while she takes a step back from me. Then she turns and heads towards the sink, gathering the plates from dinner with her. I watch her as she turns on the water and starts washing the dishes like her life depends on it. Shit. Just when everything was getting okay. I want to go to her and pull her back, and explain, but I can’t. I drag my heavy feet out the door and towards the front of the house, carrying her scent of vanilla with me, my jaw tight, and my hand gripping the phone so hard it might crack."Where have you been?" Clara's voice is sharp, demanding. "I have been calling you for two days. Two days, Valerio. Do you have any idea how worried I was?""The network was down," I say. "There was a storm. You know.""A storm." Her laugh is brittle. "A storm. And you could not find a single working phone? You could not get to a town? You could not—""Clara." My voice is f
Valerio’s POVThe office felt too quiet after Zara left. Her presence still lingers everywhere; at her desk, in the air, in the way the chair was slightly pushed back like she had left in a hurry. I sit down in her seat, leaning back, trying to make sense of the storm raging inside my head.These f
Zara’s POVThe apartment is quiet when I finally push the door open a little after ten. The living room lamp casts a soft yellow glow over the second-hand couch and the small pile of toy cars scattered across the rug. Mrs. Rivera looked up from her knitting, smiling that gentle, knowing smile she a
Zara’s POV My feet are killing me by the time the clock hit eight-thirty, but I keep typing. The Harrington proposal stares back at me from the screen, marked up with more red ink than black. Valerio had thrown three more files at me after lunch, each one more complex than the last. He was testing
Valerio’s POVI can’t get her out of my fucking head.Zara Matthews.Even her name feels like it belongs to my mouth. I stand at the window of my penthouse, whiskey in hand, staring at the city sprawled below me like scattered diamonds. The glass is cold against my palm, and my mind refuses to sett







