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He obeys instantly.
“I should kill you for even looking at her,” I say calmly. “I should definitely kill you for touching her.”
His breathing becomes shallow.
“But…” I pause, considering him. “I have a feeling my little sunshine would be heartbroken if you suddenly stopped breathing.”
And right now… I’m trying to earn my place in her heart. That alone is enough to spare his life.
I lean forward. “So for today, I’ll let you live. Pack your shit and get the hell out of Rome. If I ever see you here again, you’re dead.”
He freezes.
“I won’t stop with you either. Your father. Your family. Your friends. Every single person connected to you will suffer because you couldn’t keep your hands off what belongs to me.”
He nods so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t hurt his neck.
“I understand.”
“I certainly hope you do.”
I snap my fingers. The rear door immediately opens, and two of my men drag him out of the car. He stumbles onto the pavement.
I glance at the blood staining the black leather seat and grimace.
“Clean this mess up.”
One of my soldiers immediately rushes over with a handkerchief and starts wiping the seat.
I adjust my cufflinks and settle comfortably into my seat, looking out the window. “Take me to the Moretti estate.”
As my driver pulls away from the curb, my thoughts drift to the first time I ever saw Aurora.
It was two years ago at a university charity art exhibition. I was there for business. One of my partners, a sponsor at the school, had invited me.
I had no interest whatsoever in paintings or sculptures. Art had never held my attention. I’d only accepted because I was in the middle of negotiating a lucrative deal with him, and spending an afternoon pretending to appreciate brushstrokes seemed like a small price to pay.
I remember walking through the gallery with half my attention on my phone, barely glancing at the paintings hanging on the white walls.
Until one stopped me. A lone king submerged beneath dark water, his crown slipping from his fingertips as light filtered down from the surface above.
It was haunting. Beautiful. There was loneliness in every brushstroke, yet somehow there was hope too, as though the king hadn’t quite given up on reaching the light.
I found myself standing in front of it far longer than I intended.
When I asked who had painted it, my associate smiled knowingly before pointing across the gallery.
“There.”
I followed the direction of his finger. And I saw her.
She was laughing with another student, completely unaware that the entire room had disappeared around her.
Dark brown hair spilled over her shoulders in soft waves. The afternoon sun poured through the gallery windows, wrapping her in warm light until she almost seemed to glow.
She wasn’t dressed to impress. A simple blouse, jeans, and yet she was the most captivating woman I’d ever seen.
My gaze lingered longer than it should have. Her smile. Her curves. The way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear while listening to someone speak.
