Alexander stopped, turning to face me. “Dance with me,” he said, his voice low. I blinked, glancing around at the small crowd of people scattered across the square. “Here? In the middle of the street?”
He grinned, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Why not?”
Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him, his arm sliding around my waist as if it belonged there.
“I’m a terrible dancer,” I warned, my cheeks already heating.
“Good thing I’m not,” he replied, his grin turning into a soft smile as he began to sway us to the music.
The world around us seemed to dissolve, fading into the soft glow of the streetlamp and the lilting notes of the street musicians’ melody. The cool night air kissed my skin, but all I could feel was the warmth of his hand on my back, steady and sure. My heart pounded, but not from nerves. It was something deeper, something unnamed but undeniably real, spreading through me like wildfire.
“Lucia,” Alexander murmured, his voice barely louder than a breath, yet it cut through the music as if it were meant only for me.
I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes rooted me in place. They were a shade of brown that seemed endless under the dim light, and they looked at me as though I was the only thing that mattered in the world.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice soft but weighted, each word spoken like it was a truth he could no longer hold back.
The words hung in the air, wrapping around me and pressing against my chest until I could hardly breathe. My heart clenched, an ache I couldn’t ignore spreading through me. The sincerity in his voice unraveled something inside, loosening the careful threads of resistance I had clung to.
I tried to summon the reasons I’d told myself over and over why this couldn’t happen—why I couldn’t let myself fall for Alexander Wright. He was too charming, too perfect, too everything. This was supposed to be fake. Carefully controlled. Safe.
But here I was, standing in his arms under a pool of moonlight, and I could feel it happening. Inexplicably, unavoidably, I was falling for this man.
The next morning, there was a bouquet of bright flowers on my hotel doorstep. A small handwritten note peeking out of the top petals:
Pretty flowers for a pretty girl xx-A
18
ALEXANDER
Iwas screwed. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably screwed.
It had been a full day since Lucia and I went out, leaving Matteo and Nicola to enjoy a quiet night in with Gia. And yet, I couldn’t stop replaying the way the light had danced across her face, catching the warmth in her green eyes. It was maddening. I was acting like the leading man in one of those rom-coms Lucia seemed to love so much—head in the clouds, heart racing at the mere memory of her laugh.
This whole fake-dating idea had been practical. It made sense at the time. I needed a PR miracle to salvage my reputation with Belen Racing. The team wanted stability, proof that I could be more than a reckless bachelor. A committed relationship screamed responsibility, maturity, and growth. All the things my bosses wanted to see in me.
Lucia had been game. She didn’t hesitate when I asked, offering to help without batting an eyelash. She said yes to fake dating like it was a casual favor, something she could do in her sleep.
So why didn’t I see this coming?
The constant pull to touch her, to make her laugh, to kiss her—not for the cameras or the narrative, but because I wanted to. Desperately. I was in deep trouble because she was my best friend’s sister, and I was supposed to be pretending.
Instead, I was thinking about her bows. Matching bows, for God’s sake. Lucia and Gia had left for brunch earlier, wearing coordinated outfits, and Gia had spent ten solid minutes trying to convince me to join them. The kid even grabbed my hand and gave me that puppy-eyed pout I could never say no to.
And yet, I stayed behind because Matteo plopped on the couch beside me, beer in hand, ready to critique last week’s race.
Now I wasn’t sure if I should’ve gone to brunch, just to be near Lucia. The way she smiled when Gia tugged on her hand had my heart doing cartwheels.
I was losing my mind.
“Mate, are you even watching this?” Matteo grumbled, gesturing to the race highlights playing on the TV.
“Huh?” I blinked, realizing I’d zoned out completely. “Yeah, sure.”
Matteo raised an eyebrow. “You’re acting weird.”
I ran a hand down my face. Great. Now Matteo was noticing.
