A knock on the door splits the air.
"Hate to interrupt," Nico's voice says through the door. I can hear the fucking smirk in his tone. "There's something you need to see."
We spring apart like teenagers caught by parents. Sophia slides off the desk, smoothing her sweater with shaking hands. I rake fingers through my hair, trying to look like I haven't been devouring my fake fiancée.
"Come in."
Nico walks in, tablet in hand. He’s trying for a neutral expression, but he knows what 'practice' meant.
"The photos from today are everywhere." He turns the screen toward us. "But look at these comments."
I force myself to focus on the screen instead of Sophia's swollen lips.
"'They look so in love,'" Nico says. "'The way he protects her.' 'She looks at him like he's everything.'"
"The entire city's buying it." Nico sets the tablet on my desk. "Francesco's plan backfired. Instead of making you vulnerable, he's made you Chicago's new power couple."
"Good." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "Then we're selling it right."
"Sure. Selling." Nico's expression says he's not buying what we're selling at all. "I'll leave you to your... practice."
He exits, closing the door with exaggerated care.
Sophia stares at the photos on the tablet. In them, her face glows as she looks at me. My hand splays possessively across her back. We fit together like puzzle pieces.
She looks from the photo to me, her eyes wide with the same realization that’s punching a hole in my gut.
This isn't practice. It hasn't been for a while.
And the whole city is watching us fall.
Sophia
The tablet screen goes dark, our reflection staring back at us—two people caught in something neither of us knows how to name. Lorenzo clears his throat and moves to his desk drawer.
"Here." He pulls out a sleek iPhone, still in its box. "Latest model. Encrypted. Secure line."
I stare at the phone like it's made of gold. "For me?"
"Marina's number is already programmed. So is mine, Pietro's, Vittoria's. Emergency contacts." He slides it across the desk. "You can call or text Marina whenever you want. Just be careful what you say about family business."
The weight of this gift hits me. After days of isolation, he's giving me a piece of freedom back. A connection to my old life.
I can't help it. I bounce on my toes and clap my hands together like a child on Christmas morning. "Oh my God, thank you!"
Before I can think better of it, I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He catches me, steadying us both, his hands settling on my waist.
"Thank you," I whisper against his shoulder. "You have no idea what this means."
"Sophia." His voice is rough.
I pull back just enough to see his face. His eyes search mine, and I know—Iknow—those kisses weren't practice. Whatever game he wants to play, whatever lies he needs to tell himself, I see the truth written in the way he looks at me.
But I'll play along. I'll be whatever he needs me to be until he's ready to admit what's happening between us.
"I can have a piece of my life back," I say softly, still in his arms.
His expression changes. "Did you have a boyfriend? Back in your old life?"
