Page 99 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

Evelyn narrows her eyes at me through the screen, her lips twitching with amusement. "He dodged the forensic questions with domestic banter. Clever boy. Nora, keep him around, if only so I can study his evasive maneuvers."

"Goodbye, Mum. Goodbye, Dad," Nora groans loudly and slaps the screen shut, severing the call in one swift motion.

Nora exhales a long, theatrical breath, pressing her palms to her temples. "I apologize for my family. They are completely feral."

I catch her hand and gently pull her to my lap. "Compared to mine, they seem remarkably harmless."

She looks at me sideways, a rare softness crossing her features before she smiles and leans back against me. Outside the study window, the estate gardens remain peaceful, the pear tree shedding its dry leaves in the quiet sunlight, and for the first time in years, the house is still.

Epilogue 1

NORA

My palm slides across the empty sheets, searching for the warmth that should be beside me. All I catch is chilly linen and quiet air. Through the open French doors, the breeze moves over the Tuscan hills, carrying the scent of wild herbs and sun-baked gravel from the driveway below.

I stare up at the arched ceiling and trace the cracks in the stone. It has been four weeks since Luca packed a single duffel bag and left without a proper explanation. Just a rushed kiss against my temple, a promise to return soon, and then total silence, leaving me stranded in his compound with his loud family.

Downstairs, an iron skillet bangs against the stove, followed by a theatrical screech that echoes up the stairwell. Matteo is already at it, getting battered by Nonna before the morning coffee even finishes brewing.

Matteo stabs a fork at his plate. "I am telling you, Nonna, the eggs were perfect yesterday. Today they look like they lost a fucking fight."

Nonna doesn't even turn from the stove. She brandishes a wooden spoon like a weapon she's used before. "You criticize my eggs again and I put you on dish duty until Christmas, you ungrateful little shit."

Matteo clutches his chest and collapses into a chair. "She's threatening me with labor. Actual labor. In my own house."

Enzo steals a piece of bread off Matteo's plate without looking up from his phone. "Your face is the labor, cousin. Sit down and suffer quietly."

Matteo throws a balled-up napkin straight at Enzo's head. It hits his temple and drops onto the tabletop. Enzo does not even blink, his thumb flicking across his screen.

Beside him, Sofia hides a soft laugh behind her coffee mug. Adrian stands right behind her chair, hands clasped behind his back, looking like an immovable statue until his left hand drops. His knuckles brush against Sofia's shoulder. Just a quiet, gentle touch, steady and familiar. Sofia tilts her head back against his knuckles, her eyes crinkling at him, and Adrian's mouth tugs up at the corner into a tiny, rare smile just for her. When she reaches up, she wraps two fingers around his little finger, pulling him slightly closer against the wood of her chair.

The two of them are not even trying to hide it anymore. Seeing the stoic head of security wrapped around Sofia's little finger makes me grin.

Matteo smirks around a mouthful of toast when he spots me. "Morning, prisoner. Still here. Bold choice."

"Still loud," I continue, grabbing a mug before anyone can poison it. "Bold choice for a man whose face still looks like a bruised, moldy peach."

"It adds character," he insists, wincing as he tilts his chin. "Women pay good money for cheekbones with this kind of dramatic shading."

Matteo reaches for the sugar bowl, wiggling his sore fingers before Nonna whacks his knuckles with her wooden spoon without even turning around.

"Leave the sweets alone." Nonna gives his hand another brisk tap. "You eat real food first."

Matteo cradles his wrist against his chest. "It is an emergency, Nonna. My coffee tastes like despair."

"Drink it in the basement," Enzo suggests without looking up from a soccer clip playing on his screen.

Sofia slides a plate toward me like she's been waiting for the exact second I'd sit. A proper London fry-up: fried eggs, crispy bacon, sausage, baked beans, grilled tomatoes, and a thick slice of buttered toast.

"You don't have to make these every morning," I murmur, though my stomach betrays me with a loud growl.

She smiles the quiet smile that means she absolutely does. "You are Nonna's favorite now, so the special treatment"

The kitchen fills up with the usual morning clatter: Enzo insulting Matteo's life choices, Matteo defending himself with dramatic hand gestures, and Sofia calmly passing around the strawberry jam like a mediator between warring factions. Beside her, Adrian sits quietly, his arm resting casually across the back of her chair while he finishes his espresso. Every few seconds Sofia leans sideways to whisper something in his ear, making his stoic expression soften in that familiar way everyone in this house has gotten used to.

Matteo points his butter knife across the table. "Can the lovebirds tone it down? Some of us are trying to nurse real injuries without drowning in romance before noon."

Sofia reaches out to cover Adrian's hand on the table. "You walked into a doorframe yesterday, Matteo. Don't blame your clumsy face on us."