I couldn’t stand still.
I paced back and forth in the small room carefully prepared for the press conference, feeling as if my heart might explode at any second.
Enrico had insisted on personally picking up the reporters, determined to make sure everyone knew from the very beginning that the inauguration was about me, about the Institute, about my work.
“You’re the star today,” he’d said with a warm smile before leaving.
And now, as the moment drew closer, my anxiety seemed to double in size.
I took a deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time, trying—uselessly—to calm the nervous energy consuming me.
The side door opened suddenly, and I turned quickly, expecting to see Enrico returning with the reporters. Instead, Marcos Albuquerque walked in with an easy, friendly smile.
The restorer responsible for the historic building where the Institute would operate was tall, with warm brown eyes and a charming smile. In the two months we’d been working together, I’d noticed how his relaxed, easygoing manner always seemed to calm the spaces around him—and I felt oddly grateful for his presence in that moment.
“Nervous?” he asked, stopping near me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, a posture completely incompatible with my internal chaos.
I let out a short, nervous laugh and shook my head.
“I don’t know how you manage to be so calm. I’m about to explode.”
He smiled, glancing around the room as if evaluating everything with professional ease.
“I’m used to this. I’ve done plenty of press conferences like this. In the end, it’s just a conversation. You’re going to do great, Valentina. Everyone already loves you and your project.”
I inhaled deeply again, trying to absorb some of that confidence.
“Thank you for saying that. I really hope you’re right.”
He looked straight at me, a playful confidence in his smile.
“I usually am.”
This time, I laughed for real, feeling a bit of the tension loosen its grip.
We walked over to the table where, in just a few minutes, we’d be sitting in front of the journalists. Marcos leaned back against the edge of the table in a casual stance.
Instinctively, I mirrored him, feeling slightly lighter as I matched his relaxed posture.
“And the restoration?” I asked, desperate to focus on something other than my nerves.
“It’s going really well. I even managed to locate some original materials from the period. We’re going to preserve much more than I initially expected.”
I smiled, genuinely happy.
“That’s amazing, Marcos. I can’t wait to see everything finished.”
He studied me curiously, a faint smile on his lips.
“You’ve already done so much, Valentina. None of this would exist without your dedication. Today is about celebrating everything you’ve built.”
A pleasant warmth spread through me—but before I could respond, footsteps echoed in the hallway.
My heart started racing again, violently, and Marcos noticed immediately.
“Ready for the show?” he asked.
I let out a weak, nervous laugh and met his gaze honestly.
