All Chapters of The Wrong Kind Of Right: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Asher was waiting on the edge of the bed, sheet now around his waist, head tilted back. When the bathroom door opened, he didn’t look over. He just said, “Well, that was fun.”Luca stepped out slowly, shirt half on, hair wet, expression shuttered.“I think she knows.”“Of course she knows,” Asher said flatly. “She’s a Hartwell. They invented suspicion.”Luca sat down beside him, not touching, not speaking.Asher finally looked over. “You want to leave?”Luca nodded once. “I should.”He stood, but Asher caught his wrist, just gently. “Don’t lie about why.”Luca paused. Swallowed hard.Then he pulled away.“I’m not,” he said softly. “I’m just doing what I always do. Surviving.”Meanwhile, in the private drawing room on the east wing, Hannah perched on the edge of a chaise with her phone in hand, still scrolling through the brunch photos like she was studying a battlefield.Vivian Hartwell stood by the window, back straight, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line.“You’re sure?” she a

The papers the next morning called it “A Fairytale Engagement.”Legacy meets legacy.The Virelli heir and the Hartwell daughter, an empire reborn.Flawless smiles, golden lighting, a kiss on the cheek framed by the Virelli crest.Luca sat in the breakfast salon at the estate, jaw locked as he scrolled through headline after headline. Every image was perfectly curated. Except the man in them felt like a stranger.“You photograph well,” Serena said, breezing in with a silk robe and zero shame. She poured herself black coffee, no sugar, and didn’t bother asking if he wanted any. “At least you didn’t sweat through your collar this time.”Luca didn’t answer.She sank into the chair across from him, tucking one leg under the other like a queen in her throne. “Your mother’s over the moon. My father already called Paolo twice. It’s exactly the kind of chaos they thrive on.”“And you?”Serena smiled, eyes sharp. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”Luca stared at her. “You’re really okay with thi

The Hartwell Virelli engagement had made it through two news cycles and was beginning to lose its shine. Public attention moved on. Luca hoped the same would happen inside his head.It didn’t.So when his mother suggested a brief stay at their lakeside villa in Montaione for “clarity and air,” Luca didn’t hesitate.He needed distance. Space to breathe. A weekend alone where nothing existed but clean sheets, espresso, and the sound of wind moving through cypress trees.No press. No Serena. No Asher.Especially not Asher.The car ride from Florence to the estate took an hour and a half. He kept the window cracked just enough to feel the air. Tuscany always had that faint scent of wild rosemary and old stone.When they pulled into the gravel drive, the staff were already lined up.The house manager handed him a glass of mineral water, offered the schedule for meals, and discreetly reminded him that a private security firm would be present, just routine protocol.Luca barely nodded.He st

The villa was quiet again the next morning.Too quiet.Luca told himself it was what he wanted. No conversation. No complications. Just a few more hours of stillness before he returned to the machine of his real life.But even silence had a weight.And it was heavier than he remembered.He poured himself an espresso and drank it standing up. Didn’t bother dressing past an open shirt and linen trousers. The staff knew better than to comment when his mood looked like it could bite.He hadn’t seen Asher once that morning.He told himself it was a blessing.He lied.Asher had kept himself busy, early rotation, checking gates, relaying site notes to his team, anything to stay out of the villa. Anything to avoid running into Luca again. One more word, one more look, and he wasn’t sure what would happen.He didn’t trust himself around him anymore.Didn’t trust the way Luca’s voice could still linger in his ears.Didn’t trust how his name still tasted like a habit.And most of all, he didn’t

The next day, Luca stood in front of the Virelli building’s glass lobby, his phone in one hand, staring at an old security photo from weeks ago, Asher entering the property, head down, sunglasses on, jaw tense.He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until a voice behind him said, “You know it’s not healthy to stalk someone who hates you.”He turned. Serena again. Clutching an iPad.“I wasn’t stalking.”“You were,” she said. “It’s okay. It’s kind of sad, but… expected.”He said nothing.“Look,” she continued, flipping her iPad around. “Can we at least pretend to be on the same page? These are the three final designs for the engagement dinner. Pick one. Or I will.”“I don’t care.”“Yes,” she said, stepping closer. “You do. You care so much it’s killing you.”He looked away.She smiled. “We all wear masks, Luca. The trick is not letting yours crack in public.”Later, Luca ended up in the wine cellar of the penthouse, alone.The lights were low. The bottles were arranged like je