Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“Mistakes?” I scoffed. “I wouldn’t call you warning me that Prince Charming was really a demon in disguise who’d ruin my life a mistake!”
“Sabrina, you’re upset—”
“Of course I’m upset! How did you meet this man?”
“It was the oddest thing,” she began. “A few weeks ago, I was at the theater in my usual subscription seats. You know how the Finklesteins have always sat next to me? Well, they weren’t there. This man said he’d purchased their seats. At first, I thought nothing of it, but then he was there for the next performance and the next. He got me a glass of wine during intermission, and…well, wine turned into dinner, and dinner turned into…”
I tuned her out, my mind racing.
Her words felt wrong. Scripted, somehow.
Too coincidental.
She laughed softly, bringing me back. “It’s like he knows me, Sabrina. We like all the same things. It’s almost as if he can read my mind.”
“Mom. I need to ask you about your family. The Badalamentis. And…and why you left Italy.”
There was a long pause.
“Mom?”
Her voice came back, colder now. “Not now, Sabrina.”
“Mom, please. It’s important.”
“I can’t talk about this right now. You know I don’t like to talk about such things. And I really should go. He’s waiting for me, and we’re already late.”
“Mom, wait! I need to warn you—”
The line went dead.
I sat there, staring at the phone in my hand. Outside, the bells of a nearby church rang out.
Sebastian.
I didn’t know how, but I knew this was him.
Somehow, he’d found her.
And now, I had to figure out why.
Florian approached my table. His tailored suit looked crisp, unwrinkled, and flawless—something straight out of a Milan runway. He arched an elegant brow as he took in my outfit.
“Well,” he said, waving his hand dramatically. “This is…a choice.”
I tugged at the brim of my baseball cap, suddenly hyperaware of my casual jeans and oversized T-shirt. “I thought I’d bring a little American flair into the office today.”
“Flair is for a hem, cara, not an outfit,” Florian replied, sliding into the chair opposite me.
My lips twitched, but I couldn’t shake the heat creeping up my neck. It was my only win of the morning—refusing to change into a more “appropriate” outfit after Sebastian’s disapproving glare over breakfast.
Sebastian had stormed inside without a word.
I stayed behind, slipping into the café next door.
Not that I was truly alone.
The moment I took a seat, I caught the reflection of one of Sebastian’s security guards in the glossy screen.
He wasn’t being subtle, either. He hovered near the café door, his eyes flicking toward me. Even when he wasn’t in the room, Sebastian was watching.
Always watching.
The waiter delivered an espresso to Florian, who gave him a small nod of approval before turning his attention back to me.
“You know,” he said, taking a delicate sip of his coffee, “I think I see what you’re trying to do here. A little rebellion? A statement, perhaps?”
“It’s not that deep,” I muttered, stirring my cappuccino. “I just didn’t feel like playing dress-up today. My plan is to hide in my office all day and avoid everyone.”
Florian chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “A good plan. Perhaps the only sensible one. Though…” He paused, tilting his head as if considering. “Avoiding Sebastian is rarely a strategy that ends well.”
The guard at the door shifted, and I darted my gaze toward him.
The knot of tension in my stomach twisted tighter.
Florian caught my glance and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just there to make sure you don’t slip out the back. You know how he gets when he thinks you might vanish.”
I scowled. “I’m not going to disappear. I just needed a minute.”
Florian arched a brow but said nothing, draining the last of his espresso and setting the cup back on its saucer with a soft clink. He stood, smoothing his jacket.
“I’ll see you in the office,” he said lightly, his gaze flicking to the security guard before returning to me. “Try not to get into too much trouble before then, hmm?”
I didn’t reply, watching him stride out of the café with the same effortless elegance he always carried.
The guard stayed put, his sharp gaze now fixed solely on me.
Sighing, I shut my laptop and reached for my coffee again. The cappuccino had gone cold.
Sebastian.
He wasn’t here, but his presence suffocated me nonetheless.
I stared out the café window at the sprawling chaos of Rome—the blur of Vespas zipping through the narrow streets, the morning sunlight filtering around the buildings.
With renewed determination, I opened my laptop.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Sebastian had tapped into my phone—every call, every text, monitored. I could only hope he hadn’t done the same to my personal laptop.
The café around me buzzed with the murmur of conversations, the clang of dishes, and the hiss of the espresso machine, but it all faded into the background.