Page 7 of Stefano
He’s leaning against the wall near the base of the stairs, a whiskey glass in one hand, the other shoved into the pocket of his dark slacks.His gaze finds me instantly.
For one heartbeat, the world shrinks down to just us.His eyes drag down the length of me, slow and heavy, burning over the curve of my breasts, the hem of my dress, the legs my heels make look longer.Heat floods my skin under the weight of it, my breath catching.
Then his jaw tightens and his expression shutters.He looks away, muttering something low to Alceu.
The sting of disappointment is sharp.Why does it always feel like betrayal when he chooses distance?
“Going somewhere?”Lira’s voice cuts through the tension as she strolls into the hall.She stops when she sees me, her lips curving into a wide grin.“Damn, girl.You look hot.Date night?”
I nod, smiling despite the nerves tightening my chest.“Yeah.Just dinner.”
She winks.“Finally.About time you had some fun.”
Stefano’s head snaps back toward us.His face is unreadable, but his knuckles whiten around his glass.
“Who’s the guy?”Mancuso asks casually from the sofa, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Just ...someone I met,” I answer quickly, not daring to meet Stefano’s eyes again.
The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on.
Before anyone else can press me, I grab my purse and push through the front door, my heels clicking against the marble like a countdown.
I don’t look back.If I do, I’m afraid I won’t have the strength to leave.
The city feels different without Stefano’s shadow looming over me.Bright lights, car horns, strangers brushing past.For once, I feel like I’m not trapped in the orbit of the Cammareri name.
Luca is waiting outside the restaurant when I arrive.He’s tall, dark-haired, and clean-shaven.Handsome in a normal way—the kind of man you could bring home to your parents without explaining why his suit hides weapons.
“Andrea?”His smile is warm as he steps forward.“Wow.You look ...incredible.”
Heat rises to my cheeks.“Thank you.”
He holds the door open, and I step inside, my heart racing.
Dinner is ...easy.Conversation flows without effort.He asks about my favorite books, the music I listen to, and where I want to travel one day.He listens when I answer, leaning in like every word matters.He tells me about his job in marketing, about his dog, about his little sister.He makes me laugh.
But every so often, something slips.A question a little too pointed about my family.A comment about how closely I’m watched at the compound.A glance that lingers too long, calculating instead of admiring.
Red flags I notice.Red flags I choose to ignore.
Because for the first time in a long time, I feel seen.Not as Guilia’s little sister.Not as part of the family shadow.But as me.
Still, every time he leans closer, every time his hand brushes mine on the table, guilt stabs sharp in my chest.Because no matter how hard I try, no matter how many smiles I give Luca, there’s only one man I really want.
And he isn’t sitting across from me.
Halfway through dinner, I excuse myself to the bathroom.
Leaning against the counter, I stare at my reflection.My cheeks are flushed, my lips a little swollen from nervous biting.I should feel happy.Excited.This is exactly what I told myself I needed.
So why do I feel so hollow?
I press my palms against the cool marble, shutting my eyes.
Because it isn’t him.
Stefano’s face floods my mind.The way his eyes burned when he saw me in this dress.The tight set of his jaw, the way his fist clenched around his glass.
