After Carlo stormed out like a hurricane, leaving destruction in his wake, I collapsed. My knees gave out, and I crumpled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
I was alone again. Truly alone.And this time, it was over. I could never forgive him, not after what he’d done. I couldn’t bear his touch anymore, knowing where those hands had been.
The pain was suffocating, but the truth beneath it cut even deeper:I’d fallen in love with him. With a man who didn’t love me back. All this time, I’d been clinging to a fragile illusion, a fantasy where we were something we were never meant to be.
He didn’t love me.He didn’t even want my love.
My hand pressed to my chest as I struggled to breathe. I was drowning, in heartbreak, in shame, in the brutal truth of unreciprocated love. Then suddenly, hands touched my shoulders. Big, warm hands. Was it Carlo? A foolish, desperate thrill stirred within me. Had he come back?
I looked up, blinking through the blur of tears, but it wasn’t him. It was Giorgio. Jeans low on his hips, white shirt hanging open. I dropped my head and broke into deeper sobs, the tiny spark of hope flickering out.
Giorgio sat beside me, his hand moving in slow, steady circles across my back. He raised a glass of water to my lips. “Drink. Don’t cry. He’s gone. He left the house.”
I pushed the glass away with shaking fingers. “What did you say?”
He answered with his usual calm. “He didn’t go to his room. He walked straight out of the mansion after he left here.”
Did that mean... he hadn’t touched anyone? Hadn’t been with her?Hadn’t kissed her? That made a huge difference. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stood, trying to steady myself.
Only then did I realize I’d been standing there in front of Giorgio this whole time, wearing nothing but a satin top and shorts that barely covered anything.
I turned away quickly, grabbed my robe, and wrapped it around myself before sitting on the edge of the bed. The storm inside me hadn’t passed, but at least it wasn’t tearing me apart anymore.
Giorgio stood and headed for the door, but I called after him.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
Wasn’t he really the best bodyguard in the world?
“I wanted to thank you,” I said quietly.
He gave a slight nod and started to walk out again, but hesitated. After lingering there for a second, shifting his weight like he was debating something, he finally said what I wasn’t expecting.
“I don’t know much about love. But there’s one thing I do know. Men can’t resist a woman who loves them. He’ll come back eventually.”
Before I could say a word, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. I curled up on the bed and rested my cheek on my palm. Was it that obvious? Had I been wearing my heart so openly that even Giorgio could see it? He already knew what I’d just realized.
***
A week passed with no Carlo on the scene. No texts. No calls. No glimpses. By day two, I forced myself to stop mourning. Or at least I tried. Life had to move forward, even if I was dragging myself through it. And oddly enough, the one part that made it bearable,the one thing I actually looked forward towas the newest part of my routine:boxing with Giorgio.
Giorgio and I were walking toward the gym, which was located in Carlo’s private quarters. As we passed through the hallway, a low, familiar voice drifted out from behind a partially open door. I stopped mid-step.
“Is Carlo home?” I asked incredulously.
“Yeah. He’s having an important meeting. When he needs to talk to someone who needs to stay anonymous, he brings them here.”
That piqued my curiosity. I tilted my head. “And who’s this mysterious person?”
He shot me a glare, “Someone who knows how to mind their own business.”
“Rude,” I muttered under my breath and headed to the gym.
I had slipped into my workout shorts and top and was tying my shoes when Giorgio, already in the ring warming up with his gloves on, got a call. His phone buzzed on the bench.
I glanced at the screen. “It’s Maxim.”
Giorgio looked down at his gloved hands, clearly not thrilled about taking them off. “Put it on speaker.”
