I took a taxi here because I left Dell’s car at his parents' home. I’ll need to rent a car for a month while I figure out if staying here any longer is necessary. When my mom asked Dell’s parents to take me in and help me with whatever I needed before she died, it was because she trusted them. It’s sad now to realize they took her trust for granted. I don’t know if she knew about my father’s involvement with the FBI or that he had another child, but one thing I’m certain of is that she didn’t know Alessandro was Rose’s son. There’s no way she could have known. Rose and my mom weren’t that close—they only got to know each other because their husbands were best friends. Given the distance, they never really developed a deeper friendship, so I doubt Rose ever told her she had another son.
I’m unpacking my things in the hotel room, trying to settle into this temporary place. It’s quiet—too q
I check the notification on my phone and sigh in relief. Eleonora has just sent my payment in full. I don’t even think she looked at all the photos before sending it. I spent all day working on them and made sure to send them for her approval. I slip the phone into the back pocket of my pants and take a deep breath before walking into the club. The Velvet Room is a fancy place that reeks of money and secrets.After what felt like hours of bargaining with myself, I finally made a decision—one I’m probably going to regret, but what the hell? I’m trying to convince myself that this is the right thing to do, or at least the only option I have left. Raul left earlier in the evening. He said that since he had basically been kidnapped, he hadn’t informed his fiancée that he was out of town, so he needed to go back and check in on her, plus he had to report back to work tomorrow. He told me that whatever decision I made, he would support me and ke
I’m seated on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a silk robe—an expensive one, no doubt. I can tell from the way it feels against my skin, not that it matters when I’m trembling like a leaf. Beneath the robe is the red two-piece lingerie he insisted I wear. The thing is, this whole set—it’s sexy. It should make me feel sexy, but not in this situation. Instead, I feel cold. The fabric clings to my skin in a way that’s both flattering and revealing, but I can’t bring myself to appreciate any of that. My heart is pounding so violently that it drowns out any rational thought.I keep asking myself why I’m here, why I didn’t just say no when he commanded me to come. I know he called Luca again and gave him specific instructions to bring me here. And knowing Luca, he wouldn’t have let me walk away, but still, I could’ve said no the first time he made that absurd request on the call. I could’ve thought of something&
"What?” I ask, completely thrown off. “But you…”“The offer expired a long time ago,” he cuts me off, his tone flat.I’m confused. This is what he wanted. He even threatened me and got really pissed just because I said no. Everything that has happened between us was because he so desperately wanted me to be his mistress. And sure, he did promise to leave me alone after his former mistress, Mia, returned, but we all know that didn’t last long. I mean, he did demand I come here and dress up in this stupid lingerie for him, only for him to turn around and tell me the offer expired? What the hell?I feel a bit embarrassed, if I’m being honest, and genuinely pissed. I quickly reach for the robe on the floor and pull it on, tying it tightly around my waist.“Then why did you have me come here and wear this if you didn’t even want me?” I ask, trying to hide the edge in my voice.&ldq
"Are you okay?” he asks. I nod, only to realize he can't see me over the phone.“Yes, did you get back safe?”“Yes.”I’m on the phone with Raul while walking out of the hotel for my meeting. The art curator I’m meeting was a connection from the masquerade ball exhibitioner, and if this deal goes through, it could be a huge step toward getting more exposure for my work. But Raul’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as I wait for my Uber.“Have you thought about what we discussed?” he asks, his tone clipped, as if he’s running out of patience.I sigh, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. I did think about it. I even went ahead and tried it, but it turned out to be a huge disappointment.“Alessandro changed his mind,” I say, hearing Raul mutter something under his breath, like he can’t believe it.“What do you mean he changed his mind?&rdquo
The meeting went well, and I have to say, with everything that’s been going on in my life—how it feels like I’ve been stuck in most of the things I’ve been trying to achieve—this small win is something I definitely needed. She saw my work and said she loved it. She even suggested I display a few pieces at the museum and promised to get me invites to every art and photography show she hears of. I was over the moon when she told me that.Bella and I are headed out to check the apartment she was excited about. Meanwhile, I’m still thinking about how I turned down Maria’s request. I told her a lie—I said my camera equipment had a technical issue and that I’d need to wait a while for repairs. The thing is, if she had called me a week ago, or even a couple of days ago, I might have considered it because, let’s be honest, I do need the money. But after what happened between Alessandro and me last night, there’s no way
I walk to the restaurant entrance, and I have to admit, it is fancy, alright. The moment an attendant at the door offers to take my coat and gives me a ticket for it, I know without a doubt that this place is upscale. Definitely a good sign that I might not hate this date. When I asked Michael for an idea of what kind of date it would be so I would know what to wear, he said I should dress fancy, and honestly, it feels good to dress up every once in a while for something like this. I’m dressed in a black bandage dress that accentuates my curves perfectly, paired with golden strappy heels that match my purse and jewelry. Bella helped with my makeup because she’s pretty good at it. I didn’t want to go all out and give an impression I don’t intend to give.“I’m here for a reservation made by Mr. Cisse,” I tell the attendant, who nods and gestures for me to follow a woman dressed in a black skirt suit. The inside of the restaurant is even more impressive than it looked from the outside. Wh
"Renee!” Michael’s voice booms through the kitchen, snapping me back to reality. I jump and start taking slow, steady steps backward.I look at him, trying to hide the shock on my face. He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.“What did you do?” I ask, my throat dry and my voice barely above a whisper.“Can you believe these racist assholes?”“What?” I ask, confused by his words.“They intentionally delayed your meal because—get this—you’re a different shade from them, and they don’t serve people who look like you. Racist bastards.”The words hang in the air, and a chill runs down my spine. For a moment, I can’t even process how I feel. Racist? I hadn’t even considered that, but now the tension in the kitchen feels even more suffocating.Being treated differently because of the color of my skin wasn’t something I experienced much growing up. In fact, people often thought I was prettier or placed me on a pedestal because of it. When I moved here, the experience was different,
He has his trademark toothpick perched between his lips, and for the life of me, I don’t know why anyone would think walking around with a toothpick in their mouth is cool or even gangster. It’s just weird. His demeanor is calm, but the slight crease on his forehead is a clear indication of how dangerous he can be. I hate to admit it, but the sight of Mateo being here brings a wave of relief. As much as I despise the situation, I’d choose someone like Mateo over a stranger who pretended to be a good guy by taking me on a date. I don’t know Mateo well, but the fact that he works for Alessandro makes him the closest thing I have to protection right now.Michael’s grip on my wrist loosens as he turns, his eyes narrowing at Mateo.“Mind your own business,” he snaps, trying to sound confident, but the slight waver in his voice betrays his unease.Mateo smirks, casually flipping the toothpick between his fingers.&ldquo
I just stare at her as she walks toward me, too frozen to move even if I wanted to. Motherhood has done Maria good, no doubt. It’s a thought I can’t shake as she gets closer. She’s radiant, more stunning than I remember. Time has softened her, and, contrary to what anyone would expect, motherhood has only made her more beautiful. Her features are sharper but still delicate. Her skin glows, her hair falls in soft waves around her face, and even her casual outfit—a simple blouse and jeans—looks like it was made for her. I hate that I can notice even the tiniest details that make her this beautiful. How much more beauty can one person have?“Renée?” she says again, her brows furrowed in surprise, her lips curving into a half-smile. “I thought I saw someone who looked like you. What are you doing here?”I clear my throat, shrugging. “Nothing,” I reply, my voice clipped.She tilts her head, studying me. “Are you in therapy too?”I remain silent. It’s obvious. This building kind of hosts th
I’m seated in an armchair across from Dr. Hensley; her office is as familiar to me as the scent of lavender she always diffuses. I’ve never been much of a fan of coming here, but when you go through a traumatizing and life-altering event like the one I did, you don’t get much of a choice. It’s been years since I last saw her, but she hasn’t changed much. Her warm smile and attentive eyes make me feel like I’ve stepped back in time.“It’s good to see you again, Renée,” she says in a calm, steady voice, just as I remember. “It’s been what, two years, two and a half years?”I nod, my hands twisting together in my lap. “Something like that.”“And what brings you back to me after all this time?”I shrug. “You’re the only therapist I have in the country,” I joke, and she smiles, nodding.“That’s good to hear. Have you been doing more sessions back at home?”I look away when she asks that. I haven’t been as committed as I was supposed to be. When the nightmares stopped, so did the sessions.
Two Years Later“Roses?” Luca asks in a soft, curious voice.I nod. “Yes,” I say, smiling up at him. “But not just any roses. Red roses.”He chuckles, his arm brushing mine as we walk side by side. “Red roses, huh? Not white, not pink?”I nod again. “I love roses.”“You know, I never thought you’d be a rose-loving kind of girl. Roses seem… too ordinary,” he says, and I shrug.“I’m just an ordinary girl, Luca.”He shakes his head. “Not even in the slightest,” he says. “So, red roses it is.”I laugh. “If I were ever to get married, it would have to be red roses. They’re passionate, bold… beautiful.”“Point taken.” He gives a playful, mock-serious nod, and I nudge him with my elbow.“It’s just a joke,” I tease, grinning. “The marriage part. You don’t have to take notes. I mean, marriage? Who does that anymore?”He stops, turning to face me, his expression suddenly solemn. “I do. With you.”My smile fades, replaced by something warmer, something deeper. “Luca…”“I’m serious,” he says, tak
PrologueTwo Years AgoMy phone is pressed to my ear, my hand shaking slightly as I pace around the room. My wedding dress brushes softly against the floor with every step I take, the delicate lace catching the light streaming through the tall windows.Saying I am nervous would be the understatement of the year.“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” I say in a shaky voice."Renée.” His voice is calm and warm, steadying me even through the phone. “Breathe, amore. Everything is going to be perfect,” he says, and I sigh, smiling.I stop and stare at my reflection in the floor-length mirror, taking in the nervous girl staring back at me. She is beautiful. I am beautiful. This dress is perfection, and it makes me feel beautiful, so I hate that I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach. “What if something goes wrong?” I whisper, voicing the fear that’s been eating me up all morning.It’s not like many people liked the idea of us getting married. Even getting here, we had to fight for it.
One year laterThe soft click of the camera is the only sound in the room as I lean in closer, adjusting the angle to capture the perfect shot. My client is seated on the velvet chaise, draped in delicate lace. Her confidence radiates through the lens, and she is beautiful. The natural light streaming through the tall windows bathes her in a warm glow, highlighting every curve and detail.“Beautiful,” I murmur in a steady voice as I guide her. “Tilt your chin slightly… yes, just like that. Perfect.”This is my world now. My studio, my work, my passion. It’s been over a year and a half since I found my footing in this country, and my boudoir photography has taken off in ways I never imagined. Had someone told me I would stay here and make it my home after all the tragedies that happened, I would have laughed in their face. But here I am. High-end clients, features in glossy magazines—it’s everything I dreamed of an
I open my eyes, and the splitting headache is a clear reminder of the hangover from last night. I think I might have had a little too much to drink. My body is tangled in soft linen sheets that aren’t mine. I quickly sit up, blinking against the brightness streaming through the curtains. For a moment, everything is hazy—the room, the night, and the nagging sense of regret clawing at the edges of my mind.I push myself up slowly, the cozy carpet beneath my feet unfamiliar. Panic starts to creep in as I take in the space. A strange home. My mind is slowly piecing everything together, and then it hits me—Luca. The bar. The bathroom. His bed.“Oh my god,” I whisper, my hands flying to my face.What the hell have I done?The events of last night quickly come crashing in. What we did didn’t just stop in that bar bathroom. Somehow, we ended up here, and we didn’t stop until... I shake my head, trying to will the memories
The restaurant is quiet. Too quiet. I’m seated at the center of it, watching the soft shadows cast across the empty tables around me by the flickering candlelight. The dress delivered earlier fits like a glove, hugging my curves and making me feel beautiful, but I’m slowly starting to feel less and less beautiful as time keeps passing by. Sitting here alone in this massive restaurant feels uncomfortable.I swirl the wine in my glass, the rich red liquid catching the light. I sigh and take a sip. It’s my third—or is it my fourth? I’ve lost count. I don’t normally get drunk on wine, but if I keep taking one glass after another, I’ll be tipsy by the time this date even starts. I glance at my phone for the umpteenth time, the screen lighting up with the same message he sent over forty-five minutes ago:I’ll be late, but I’m on my way. Order something, love.That word love feels hollow now. I check the time again,
Several months laterThis always feels like the first time. I’m straddling Alessandro in the warm, scented water of our bathtub, riding out the pleasure as water laps against my skin. His hands grip my waist tightly, and his head tips back as he groans my name. It’s moments like this when I forget the chaos around us. Here, it’s just him and me—no one else.I let out a soft moan as I finish, my body trembling as I collapse against him. He catches me, cradling me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, before pressing a kiss to my forehead, then to my lips, his breath warm and tender.“I love you,” he whispers softly, tucking my hair behind my ear.Those three words hit me like a wave every time he says them. I smile, kissing him back gently before leaning against his chest, slowly listening to the rhythm of our breathing. His hand brushes through my hair, untangling it with care.“What are you
I am shaking as I stare at the pool of blood on the floor next to my father’s leg, which keeps growing larger with every passing second. His face is pale, and he is starting to get weaker. I’m trying to hold back my tears, wishing I could help him, but I can’t move. My body feels like it’s chained to this seat, my fists trembling in place on my lap.“Okay, I’ll ask again,” Emilia’s sharp voice cuts through the air, making my heart race even faster. “Who do you have resentment for in this room, Principessa?” she asks in a mocking voice.My throat is dry, my voice barely above a whisper as I stammer. “Maria.”I hear Maria scoff at the other end of the room. “Bitch,” she mutters under her breath, but it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.I swallow hard, trying not to look in her direction. Emilia leans forward, clearly intrigued. “Oh, now this is getting interest