Her brows pinched together, concern coloring her features. “Do you think it’s what Anna was talking about? The rumors?” Her phone buzzed in her tiny glittering purse, and the moment she pulled it out, I knew. The name glowing on the screen made my blood run cold.
Nathaniel.
Nicola’s mouth flattened. “What the hell does he want?”
She unlocked her phone with a sharp swipe. One message. One fucking sentence.
Nate:
Told you. Even the media thinks he’s using you.
Below that, a link. I already knew I wouldn’t like it. But Nicola tapped it anyway, thumb tight on the screen. The tabloid site loaded in seconds. Bold font screamed back at us.
Exclusive: Inner Source Confirms Relationship Between Moretti F1 Driver Matteo DeLuca and Moretti Heiress Nicola Moretti
But what stole my attention was the photo. A selfie.
Ourselfie.
From Portofino. On the lounge chair outside the villa. She was wrapped in a robe, tongue sticking out at the camera like she was trying to make me laugh. I was grinning. God, I looked happy. I’d taken that picture on my phone.Onlyon my phone.
Nicola’s breath hitched.
Her eyes snapped to mine, wide, hurt, betrayed.
“Matteo?” she said, her voice small. Cracked at the edges.
And fuck, that broke me.
“I didn’t,” I said instantly, heart slamming against my ribs. “Iswear, Nic. I would never—I didn’t give that photo to anyone. I swear to God.”
I reached for her, desperate to close the space between us, but she flinched away like I’d burned her. My hand dropped uselessly at my side.
“What’s going on?” Lucia paused in front of us, noticing we weren’t following. We were in a hallway now, past the lobby, no one was paying attention to us. I waved her over. Nicola was frozen, phone in hand, headline displayed. Lucia walked over cautiously to her friend.
“Hey, babes. What’s going on?” she asked again gently. Nicola looked to her then to the phone, in a bit of a daze.
Lucia stepped closer, eyes scanning her friend, then the phone. Her breath caught.
“Oh,” she whispered.
Alexander appeared beside her, taking one look and muttering, “Shit.”
“Should I call Anna?” I asked quietly.
Nicola didn’t answer. She didn’t even blink. Just…silent. Still. And I hated it. I craved her spark, her fire, her mouthy comebacks. Anything but this statue-like version of her.
“Where did they get this photo?” Lucia asked, sharp. Her eyes flicked to me, accusation starting to bloom there. “You took that, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly, running a hand through my hair. “But I have no fucking clue how they got it.”
“Where do you store your photos?” Alexander asked, stepping in.
“My phone?” I answered dumbly. “They’re backed up. You know, cloud stuff.”
He gave me a grim look. “Mate…I think you’ve been hacked.”
My stomach dropped.
