As Klarisse sipped her coffee, its warmth spreading through her, her mind wandered to an entirely different line of thought—one that she hadn't allowed herself to entertain until now. She glanced at the tray Alex had brought her, a small gesture of care that was so unlike the circumstances of their union. *Why didn’t he even look at me like that? * Her thoughts were unwelcome, frustrating even, but she couldn’t stop them. She was thankful Alex hadn’t taken advantage of her vulnerability while she was drunk—that much was clear. But deep down, there was another question gnawing at her, one she hated herself for even considering. *Was he not attracted to me at all? * She frowned, picking at the corner of her toast. Alex was her husband, at least in the eyes of their families and the rest of the world. Yet, despite their arrangement, it felt like they were two strangers playing their respective roles, trying not to step on each other’s toes. It wasn’t as though she wanted him to fall
The morning sun spilled through the expansive windows of the Robinson estate, casting a golden glow over the dining room as Alex and Klarisse sat across from each other. A quiet yet awkward tension filled the space, a contrast to the usual strict business-like atmosphere they had grown accustomed to during their family’s endless negotiations and strategies. Bronson Robinson and Alan Fowls had summoned them both just moments earlier, issuing what sounded more like an indulgence than an order: a full day off. “You’ve earned it,” Bronson had said with an uncharacteristically jovial tone. “A little time to yourselves as a couple after securing the Marconi deal. Consider it a reward.” The underlying meaning was clear—another step to solidify the appearance of their union. But Alex could sense it wasn’t entirely about optics. Their fathers had noticed their increasingly synchronized teamwork, perhaps taking it as a sign of genuine marital chemistry. Now, sitting across from Klarisse at
The car sped smoothly down the winding coastal road, the sound of the engine humming softly beneath the gentle crash of waves in the distance. Alex was focused on the drive, his hands steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed ahead. Klarisse, however, sat quietly in the passenger seat, her eyes following the endless stretch of ocean. She stole a glance at Alex, who was at ease behind the wheel. He looked relaxed—more than she had seen him in weeks. His hair caught the sunlight, and the faint smile playing on his lips as he hummed to the soft jazz playing in the car added an air of calm. He had been unusually attentive and kind all morning, and Klarisse couldn’t help but notice.But beneath the quiet warmth of the moment, her mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, circling back to the one name she couldn’t seem to escape: Maxine. She couldn’t ignore the shadow of the woman who held Alex’s heart. Maxine, shy and gentle, had been honest with her during their encounter at the cafe. Klarisse could
As the car came to a gentle stop near the secluded coastal retreat Alex had chosen for the day, Klarisse felt a twinge of excitement mixed with nerves. The day had already been unusual, marked by Alex’s uncharacteristic warmth and attentiveness. But nothing prepared her for what happened next. Alex exited the driver’s side, walking swiftly around the car to open the passenger door for her. Klarisse blinked in surprise as he extended his right hand toward her, his expression alight with a rare, boyish cheer. “Are you ready to have fun?” he asked, his tone filled with playful enthusiasm. Klarisse stared at his outstretched hand for a brief moment, taken aback by the gesture. It was simple, yet it felt deeply symbolic—a crack in the stoic walls they both had built. She slipped her hand into his, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected flutter through her chest. “I guess I am,” she replied, her voice soft but with a genuine smile forming on her lips. As he helped her out of the
The golden light of the setting sun bathed the two in a serene glow, the rhythmic crashing of waves filling the silence. Klarisse’s thoughts swirled as she glanced at Alex, taking in the soft contours of his profile and the way the breeze tousled his hair. It was just a brief look, one that she thought would go unnoticed. It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what she told herself. But something about the way he sat there, his face illuminated by the soft glow of sunset, drew her attention like a magnet. His profile seemed softer in the fading light; the sharp edges of his jawline framed by the golden rays. His lips, slightly curved in a thoughtful smile, carried an unfamiliar warmth, as though he wasn’t weighed down by the burdens of their unusual marriage or the shadow of Maxine. Just one glance, she thought. But as fate would have it, Alex turned his head at that precise moment, his eyes locking onto hers. Klarisse froze, caught in the act. Her cheeks burned as if the sunset it
The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of salt and the faint whisper of waves as Alex and Klarisse made their way back to the car. The glow of the setting sun still lingered, casting a warm hue over their surroundings. Klarisse walked quietly, her mind a storm of thoughts about the kiss they’d shared. It had been... electric. Real. A moment that felt too significant to ignore but too fragile to dissect right now.Without a word, Alex reached out, his fingers brushing against hers before entwining them together. Klarisse glanced up at him, startled, but he was looking ahead, his expression calm, almost serene. For a moment, she wondered if it was a conscious gesture or an instinctive one, but either way, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she allowed herself to savor the warmth of his hand in hers, even as her heart waged a quiet battle between hope and caution.The silence between them was not awkward but rather contemplative. They were both lost in their thoughts, processing the k
Dinner had been pleasant, at least on the surface. Alan and Angela Robinson were full of questions about Alex and Klarisse’s day out together, their curiosity laced with subtle hints about the expectations looming over them. Each query about how they had spent their time felt like a polite but persistent reminder of the ultimate "goal" their families had set for them. Klarisse smiled and nodded through most of the conversation, while Alex deflected with practiced ease, skillfully steering the discussion away from any baby talk.By the time they excused themselves and headed upstairs, Klarisse felt both relieved and on edge. Their bedroom, though spacious and elegant, seemed to grow smaller as they entered. It wasn’t the room itself that felt stifling but the weight of everything unsaid.“You can use the bathroom first,” Klarisse said quickly, her voice softer than usual.Alex nodded, giving her a brief smile before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. The sound of running water a
The cool air of the night brushed against Klarisse as she stepped out of bed, her bare feet making soft padding sounds against the polished floors. The emptiness on Alex's side of the bed had jolted her awake, and a sinking worry grew in her chest. Where had he gone? She wrapped her robe tightly around her and ventured out into the dimly lit hallways of the Robinson mansion.Her search led her to the family den, where the faint, warm glow of a single lamp cast long shadows on the walls. There, she found Alex, sitting in one of the large leather chairs, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, nearly emptied. His white shirt clung to his form, wrinkled from the hours he’d spent lounging there, and his boxer shorts revealed his relaxed, almost careless state. He looked up sluggishly as she entered, his eyes glassy and unfocused.“There you are, my lovely wife!” Alex slurred, a lopsided smile spreading across his face as he struggled to stand. His movements were slow, uncoordinated, and he stumb
The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted out onto the cobbled street, mingling with the warm mid-morning sun. The soft hum of chatter, the clinking of cups, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air, a soothing balm after months of chaos and pain. The name—“Clara & Co.”—was painted above the counter in Allie’s own handwriting. A tribute to Klarisse, but also a quiet declaration of independence, had finally opened its doors for a quiet soft launch.It wasn’t a grand affair. There were no streamers, no major announcements. But for everyone who walked through those glass-paned doors, it was clear something special had taken root.Klarisse stood behind the counter, helping the barista learn the flow of orders. Her hands were deft, her movements calm—every motion reminding her of the early days when she and Allie used to dream of a place like this over late-night shifts and greasy diner food. Now, they were here. Together. Building something beautiful.Allie emerged from the bac
The late afternoon sun bathed the quiet Venice street in gold, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. The building Allie had chosen wasn’t much yet—just a stone façade with boarded windows and ivy curling stubbornly around the frame. But where others might see a forgotten corner of the city, she saw potential.She sat across the street on a bench, sketchpad resting on her lap, pencil dancing lightly as she worked on the outlines of what the place could become. Her lips were slightly pursed in concentration, hair pulled into a messy knot, a coffee beside her now going cold. In her mind, the empty space had already transformed—soft pastels, arched windows, a hand-painted sign that read **“Clara & Co.”**Named not after herself, but as a nod to **Klarisse**—the friend who had once handed her an apron and said, “Just try. You’ll find you love it.”This café would be her own branch of Klarisse’s beloved shop, and Allie already imagined the menu, the soft clinking of teacups, the sme
The countryside rolled out before them in soft waves of green and gold, olive trees scattered like gentle sentinels across the hills. The villa stood like a warm promise—sunlit walls, terracotta roof tiles, and pale curtains fluttering at the open windows. Not opulent. Not defensive. Just... home.Klarisse stepped out of the car, her hand loosely gripping her daughter’s while Alexander carried their son in his arms, the toddler already pointing excitedly at the garden.“Mommy! Look, trees!” the boy exclaimed.Klarisse smiled, brushing back her daughter’s wind-blown curls as she murmured, “Yes, baby. So many trees.”They crossed the small stone path leading to the wide front steps. The air was fresh, the kind of quiet that invited stillness instead of pressing it upon you.Alex unlocked the door and gestured for them to go in first. “This is it,” he said simply.Inside, the villa was open and full of light. Large windows let the sunlight stream into a spacious living room that smelled
It started with a quiet morning.The twins were still asleep, tangled up in a nest of blankets and stuffed animals in the nursery suite. Klarisse had stepped out early for a walk with Kareen, leaving the estate unusually still. And in that silence, Alexander Robinson stood in the study with a blueprint spread across the desk.It was a property. A villa just on the edge of Venice—away from the noise and legacy of the Robinson estate, but close enough to feel connected to home.It wasn’t grand. Not by his family’s standards. But it was bright, surrounded by olive trees, with tall windows and a garden that would be perfect for growing wildflowers and a swing set for the twins.He traced the lines of the house with his finger, imagining it filled with laughter and warmth. A place not defined by old wounds, power, or politics—but by love. A place for healing. For them.For Klarisse.For the first time in weeks, he felt nervous in a way that had nothing to do with danger or strategy. This w
The days that followed the wedding seemed to drift by like the slow current of the Venetian canals. With Luca’s downfall firmly in the past, the families were finally beginning to breathe—really breathe—for the first time in months. There were no whispers of war, no looming threats. Just silence. Just peace.It was a strange sensation.And in that silence, each of them began to reckon with the scars they carried—some visible, most not.---KlarisseThe garden behind the Robinson estate had become Klarisse’s refuge.The twins were playing in the distance, their laughter echoing like music through the hedges. She sat beneath the shade of a lemon tree, a book open in her lap but unread. Her thoughts wandered far from the printed words.She still dreamt of that room sometimes—the one Luca left her in. The cold floor. The flickering monitor. Alex's face as he chose someone else.But those dreams didn’t hold the same power they used to. Not since the wedding.Allie had said something that s
The sun had begun to dip behind the Venetian skyline, casting a golden hue over the waters that shimmered in quiet celebration. The courtyard outside the Robinson estate had been transformed into something out of a dream—soft lights strung across olive trees, long tables draped with ivory linen, and floral centerpieces that echoed the chapel’s quiet elegance.It was a wedding unlike any other, not because of grandeur, but because of the people who filled the space—warriors who had survived storms, families that had known loss and loyalty, love that had been forged through fire. Now, they all gathered to celebrate something rare and sacred: peace.Laughter mingled with the gentle notes of live jazz that played from the corner of the garden, where a small band swayed to their own rhythm. Glasses clinked. Plates were passed around. Children danced between chairs, their giggles like chimes in the evening air.At the center of it all sat Artemis and Allie—finally able to breathe.Allie, st
The chapel stood as a picture of timeless elegance—high arched ceilings adorned with soft ivory flowers, pews lined with garlands of eucalyptus and roses, and candlelight casting a golden glow that made everything feel touched by magic. There was a hush in the air, the kind of reverent stillness that wrapped around everyone as they took their seats, waiting for something sacred to begin.Artemis Valen stood at the front, his hands clasped behind his back, every inch of him polished and regal in his tailored charcoal suit. But even as the strong face of a mafia heir, his eyes betrayed him. They searched the entrance again and again, restless, expectant. The man who commanded operations with a single nod now seemed like he was barely holding it together.Alexander stood beside him, proud and composed in his role as best man. His hand occasionally patted Artemis’s shoulder, grounding him. He leaned in, speaking low enough for only his brother to hear.“You’re not going to faint, are you?
The morning sunlight filtered through the lace-curtained windows of the Robinson estate’s bridal suite, painting delicate patterns on the floor. The house was filled with movement—florists arranging centerpieces, chefs preparing hors d’oeuvres, staff bustling about in well-rehearsed harmony. But inside the suite, there was a hush, as if the whole world had paused to take a breath.Allie stood before the mirror, wrapped in a silky white robe, her hair half-curled, makeup just beginning. Her dress hung nearby—sleek, elegant, with a train that whispered stories of power and grace.Klarisse knelt at Allie’s feet, gently sliding on the wedding shoes—blush-colored satin heels with tiny crystals stitched along the sides. She looked up at her best friend, smiling faintly.“Still fits,” Klarisse teased lightly, adjusting the buckle.Allie laughed softly. “You doubted me?”“I’ve seen how much cake you’ve stress-eaten this past week.”“I will *not* be shamed on my wedding day,” Allie replied wit
Two weeks after the proposal, the Robinson estate was a whirlwind of activity again—not for another battle or family council, but something far more nerve-wracking for Artemis Robinson:**Planning a wedding.**“Tell me again why we can’t just elope?” Artemis muttered, leaning against the edge of his desk in the west wing study. He was flipping through a thick leather-bound wedding planning book that Allie had left on his desk, a pencil tucked behind his ear like a reluctant student.“Because I want to walk down an aisle and make someone cry,” Allie called out as she entered, two sets of color swatches fanned in her hands. “And Klarisse’s dad *will* cry if I ask him to walk me down. I want that.”Artemis paused, setting the book down. “You’re really asking Alan and Kareen to give you away?”Allie walked over and plopped the swatches in front of him, her smile a little more tender this time. “I don’t have parents of my own, Artemis. But Klarisse’s mom and dad… they’ve always treated me