Page 117 of Brutal Heir

I would have totally been suspicious had I not experienced dropped calls and glitches in Paris.

Without meeting his gaze, I still tried to turn it on while ignoring the eighteen missed calls from my mother. It turned on, but text messages wouldn’t open, and it had a bunch of error notifications.

“Italy runs on GSM cellular networks. Americans use CDMA. The newer phones are more compatible, but yours is surprisingly old.”

I shoved both phones into my purse. “I have small hands and hate the larger phones, so I kind of clung to my old one for as long as possible. Thank you for the phone. I’ll pay you back.”

He cast me a side glance. “I’ll take it out of your first paycheck.”

We fell into an oddly companionable silence.

Via Giulia, lined with centuries-old Renaissance palazzi and overhanging vines, stretched out before us—a quiet respite before the city’s energy fully awakened.

Through the tinted windows, my gaze wandered to the ornate facades, and I couldn’t help but admire how even the most mundane corner of Rome carried whispers of timeless elegance.

As we approached Corso Vittorio Emanuele II, the pulse of the city began to quicken.

Vespas zipped by in daring maneuvers, and the chatter of café patrons spilled onto the street, creating a vibrant backdrop to our passage. Turning onto Via del Corso, the energy shifted again, growing more refined.

Designer boutiques, sparkling displays of luxury goods, and the confident stride of elegantly dressed Romans told the story of affluence.

Our destination was close now, the iconic Piazza di Spagna just around the corner.

Finally, the motorcade slowed as we entered the elegant stretch near Via Condotti, the very heart of Rome’s luxury district. The House of Diamanti had chosen the perfect location—a crossroads of heritage and modern luxury.

The motorcade came to a halt.

By now, I knew better than to open my own door.

I unbuckled my belt and waited until Sebastian had crossed behind the car to open my door, waving away the uniformed doorman, dressed in severe black with the Diamanti gold family crest embroidered over his heart, who had stepped forward.

I stepped out and craned my neck back to look up at the imposing façade of the House of Diamanti Headquarters, its pale travertine stone adorned with intricate carvings of floral motifs and classical columns.

Above the grand entrance, the Diamanti lion-and-unicorn family crest glared down at me. This time, it was rendered as a three-dimensional relief painted in gold leaf with what looked almost like a real diamond embedded in the center.

Two doormen opened the doors.

After a moment’s hesitation, I stepped over the threshold.

It was like stepping into the Colosseum itself. Beyond these doors lay ferocious beasts and the looming shadow of death.

CHAPTER 32

SABRINA

As I crossed the polished black marble floor, its gold diamond-shaped mosaic glinting under the lights, the sharp echo of my heels rang out, perfectly in sync with the erratic rhythm of my heart.

The sound seemed to ripple through the space, drawing a sudden pause.

Conversations stilled, as every face turned in our direction.

Damn it. Stupid heels.

Heat rose in my cheeks, and I fought the urge to lift my fingers to cool the burn.

But then, with a sharp pang of relief, I realized—they weren’t looking at me.

All eyes were on Sebastian.