Page 12 of Shattered Engagement

Then I’m out, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I don’t look back as I hurry toward the entrance, swiping my keycard to gain access. The corridor is deserted, and I take the service elevator to avoid the lobby. My heart pounds in my ears, adrenaline mixing with lingering desire and growing dread.

The elevator deposits me on my floor, and I peer cautiously into the hallway before stepping out. Empty. I make my way to my suite, moving quickly but quietly. Just as my hand reaches for the door handle, the suite across from mine opens.

“Isadora?”

I freeze, then slowly turn, my expression already arranged into casual surprise. “Valentina. You’re still up.”

She stands in her doorway, wearing silk pajamas, her face scrubbed clean of makeup but her eyes sharp and alert. “Where have you been? We were worried.”

“I needed some air,” I say, the lie coming easily. “Took a walk to clear my head.”

“At this hour? In New York? Alone?” Her eyebrows rise. “Your father would have a heart attack right after he’s had my head.”

“Which is why he doesn’t need to know.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “Please, Val. I just needed some space. The wedding, it’s... a lot.”

Her expression softens slightly, but suspicion lingers. “You should’ve told me. I would’ve come with you.”

That was precisely what I’d wanted to avoid. “I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

She studies me, gaze traveling from my slightly disheveled hair to my bare legs. I’d lost my pantyhose somewhere in that bathroom, left behind like the caution I’ve cultivated my entire life.

“You look... different,” she says finally.

I force a laugh. “I look like someone who’s been walking around Manhattan at night in heels. I’m exhausted.” I punctuate this with a yawn that’s not entirely feigned. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

After a moment, she nods. “I won’t tell your father, but don’t do it again. It’s not safe.”

“I won’t,” I promise, relief flooding me. “Goodnight, Val.”

Once inside my suite, I lean against the door, heart hammering. That was too close. I kick off my heels and pad to the bathroom, flipping on the light and flinching at my reflection.

My lips are swollen, my neck bears a faint red mark that will likely darken into a bruise by morning, and my eyes... they belong to someone else. Someone alive in a way I’ve never allowed myself to be.

I start the shower, as hot as I can stand it, and step under the spray fully clothed. The water soaks through the black dress, weighing it down until I peel it off, letting it fall with a wet slap against the marble floor. I watch makeup-stained water swirl down the drain, wishing I could wash away the choices I’ve made just as easily.

But as I scrub my skin pink, I can still feel the ghost of Alessio’s touch. The phantom press of his lips. The weight of his body against mine.

I press my forehead against the cool tile and finally allow myself to cry, the tears mixing with the shower spray, indistinguishable. I cry for the woman I could’ve been, in another life. One where I wasn’t born a De Angelis, where my body wasn’t a commodity to be traded for power and influence.

One where I might’ve met Alessio differently, known his last name, his history, anything beyond the feel of his skin against mine.

Eventually, the water runs cold, and I shut it off, wrapping myself in a plush hotel robe. I move to the bedroom and sit on the edge of the massive bed, staring at nothing.

The engagement ring sits on the counter. I take it, watching the diamond catch the weak light filtering through the curtains. Five carats. Flawless. Ostentatious. Luca had presented it with the same pride one might show when purchasing an expensive car. “The biggest diamond Tiffany had,” he’d boasted to my father, not to me.

I slide it onto my finger, the weight of it familiar and suffocating. In two weeks, it will be joined by a wedding band, another shackle disguised as jewelry.

I pad to the window, pulling back the curtains to reveal the Manhattan skyline, lights still twinkling in the pre-dawn darkness. Somewhere out there is Alessio, returning to his own life, his own secrets. I wonder if he’s thinking of me, or if I’m already fading from his memory—just another woman, another night.

The thought shouldn’t hurt. It was supposed to be meaningless, after all. Just bodies seeking pleasure in the darkness.

But as I press my palm against the cool glass, I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if we’d met in another life. If I’d given him my real name. If we’d exchanged numbers. If I hadn’t already promised to another man.

Futile thoughts. Dangerous ones.

I let the curtain fall back into place, shutting out the city and the possibilities it holds. In a few hours, I’ll be surrounded by bridesmaids, by wedding planners, by my mother’s critical gaze. I’ll smile and nod and pretend to be excited about marrying Luca. I’ll be the Isadora everyone expects me to be.

But I know something has changed. I’ve tasted freedom, however briefly. I’ve been someone else, made my own choice, taken what I wanted instead of accepting what was given. And I’m not sure I can simply forget that feeling.

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