“No,” I said. “But also…yes?”
He squeezed my hand, letting me be unsure. God, how did he always know when I needed that?
We sat in it for a minute longer before I took a breath. Okay. Here we go. Rip off the Band-Aid.
“I’m trying to not be freaked out,” I admitted, “I want to do this, to give it a real shot. But being in the spotlight, it doesn’t give us the option of just existing. While I’ve grown up with it, I should be used to it. It still…” I paused, taking a breath, “it pisses me off.”
There. Said it. Couldn’t take it back. My heart was hammering in my chest, but it was the good kind of fear, I think. The kind that came right before something mattered. Because we had an on or off switch with the press. And I could ignore it, but it would always be there, dramatic headlines, ‘did they or didn’t they’ theories. In another world, we would just be nobodies who lived by the sea in Portofino.
Matteo didn’t interrupt. Just waited, eyes on the road, thumb tracing slow circles on my knuckles.
“I built this armor around myself since I was younger, not letting it get through to me. But the press spinning shit aboutyou makes me irrationally angry. So there’s that,” I sighed before bringing up yet again the fact that I was fucking terrified. I felt like a broken record, but my mind just kept circling back to it, forever overthinking.
I went on, “And then the other half is my stupid head.” Matteo shot me a look like, ‘Hey don’t say that.’ I squeezed his hand and continued, “I know we talked about it but it’s like there’s this part of my mind that’s screaming at me from the back, that I’m being stupid for listening to my heart. That I’m going to get hurt. But then you hit me with that stupid smile and your stupid flirting and your ability to make me laugh even when I want to strangle you…”
He snorted, glancing sideways at me, and my chest eased.
“You made me feel something I haven’t felt in a really long time,” I said. “Safe.Seen. Like I don’t have to be anyone else. Just me.”
I bit my lip. “And that scares the shit out of me.”
He pulled the car over and turned to face me fully, like he couldn’t wait another second.
“Scares the shit out of me too, Princess.But I’d rather be with you, figuring it out than anywhere else. And your head isn’t stupid. You’re allowed to feel it all, youshouldfeel it all.”
“So what do we do?” I whispered.
“What we said last night: we try,” he said, “However messy or slow as you need. I’m not going anywhere, even if the tabloids try to get between us. I’ll remind you every day that this is what matters, right here.” He waved a finger between us. “And I know the pressure of the public eye, but this is worth it. I want to fight for this, to give us an honest-to-God chance.”
I smiled, and it felt real. Like the kind that started somewhere deep in my chest and rose all the way up to my eyes.
“You know,” I said, voice lighter, “this is the part of the romance novel where the heroine kisses the boy stupid.”
Matteo grinned. “Yeah? What happens after that?”
“Guess we have to find out,” I said, scooting closer. And when he leaned in, I met him halfway, stealing a kiss.
I stood outside the conference room at the Langlin Hotel, my red lips and heels serving as armor, a binder clutched tight against my chest. Chin high, shoulders squared.
“Good afternoon, Miss Moretti.” One of the older board members—Lance, if memory served—nodded politely.
It had been years since I’d stepped into one of these meetings. As a teenager, I used to beg my father to bring me along so I could take notes and see the inner workings of his world. Now I was here on my own terms, about to present a new direction for the Moretti Foundation. Not just another fundraiser on the calendar, but a reimagined strategy. One that involved partnering with local shelters and charities at every stop instead of sprinkling in a few token events each year.
When I entered, my father sat at the head of the long oval table, tall windows spilling light across the polished surface. Familiar faces dotted the room—Lance among them—but there were new ones too. My mother sat proudly at his side, her smile radiant as our eyes met, and the knot of anxiety in my chest loosened. My parents had always been my greatest champions. Even when they weren’t sure about me joining the race schedule, they could see I was thriving, and that was all that mattered.
“Good afternoon,” I greeted as I slid into a seat to my father’s left.
“Thank you all for coming,” my father said, rising and buttoning his suit jacket. His presence commanded the room with effortless ease. “The Moretti Foundation has been expanding, and we hope to see it continue to grow. I’d like to thank Henrietta and Lance for their dedication on this past year’s campaign, and also my daughter, Nicola, for leading the planning committee. Her work not only broke fundraising records here at Moretti Incorporated, but also breathed new life into the Foundation. With her perspective, we’re now ready to consider some fresh initiatives. But before we begin, Henrietta has an announcement.”
All eyes shifted to Henrietta. Her silver hair was pinned neatly in a twist, her tan suit sharp as ever. She stood with a composed smile, smoothing her jacket before speaking.
“Thank you, everyone, for gathering on short notice, and Nicola, for presenting next year’s plans today. I asked for this meeting because I have something important to share.” Her voice was steady, but the words landed like a stone in water. “I will be stepping down as chair of the Moretti Foundation.” A collective gasp rippled around the table. Henrietta had led for three decades, an institution in her own right. I tried to school my features, but the shock must have flickered across my face.
“I’m so grateful for the friendships I’ve made and for the Moretti family’s support over the years,” she continued, “It has been my greatest honor to serve as chairwoman. Today’s vote will be my final business. Effective immediately, I’ll be retiring.”
The room buzzed to life, board members rising, shaking her hand, offering embraces and thanks. I lingered by my parents as the crowd swarmed her.
“You knew?” I murmured to my father. He gave a small, knowing smile and nodded.
