LUCA

The whisky scorched a path down my throat, doing fuck-all to quiet the turmoil raging inside me. Hours of staring at the same glass, and Olivia's devastated face still haunted me—those wide eyes filled with panic, the desperation in her voice.

I'd lashed out like a savage animal, trapped by protective instincts that had warped into something ugly and cruel. But, cazzo, she had to understand the danger of probing into my world, even if that file had nothing incriminating. 

The thought of history repeating itself was unbearable.

George's appearance yanked me from the quicksand of my messed-up mind. "Master Luca? Forgive for the intrusion, but Miss Olivia hasn't left her room since yesterday afternoon."

Merda. My grip tightened on the glass. "Has she eaten?"

"I'm afraid not. The trays remain untouched."

A headache pulsed behind my eyes, my molars grinding. I'd sworn to protect her. Instead, I was the source of her pain once more. Some fucking knight in shining armour.

"Grazie, George. I'll handle it."

The door shut behind him, and I tossed back the last of the drink. I had to fix this. Lay my cards on the table and hope it was enough. Grovel, if I had to. Anything to ease the hurt I'd inflicted.

My mobile felt heavy as I pulled it out. "Marco," I said once he answered. "I need you to arrange some things for me."

An hour later, I stood outside of her room, my heart lodged somewhere in my throat. The latch clicked ridiculously loud as I eased the door open. 

"Olivia? Can we talk?"

No reply. 

A dishevelled tuft of blonde hair peeked out from the duvet—the only sign she was there at all. The mattress dipped under my weight as I sat beside her cocoon, but she barely stirred. My hand hovered, aching to smooth her hair, but I curled it into a fist, denying myself that comfort.

"I...I shouldn't have reacted the way I did." Words were insufficient against the magnitude of the remorse corroding my insides. I'd let my own demons drive me.

The silence stretched, each heartbeat hammering against my ribs until—

"It's me who should apologise." Her lashes fluttered open, the exhaustion in her puffy eyes a fist around my heart. Sheets rustled as she pushed herself upright. "I went behind your back." 

Shoulders slumped, but her gaze never left mine. 

"It was stupid and desperate and all I could think about was finding something to help Noah. And I—" Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm just so scared, Luca. For my brother. For us."

Before she could choke out another word, I gathered her into my arms and she melted into me with a sigh sounding like absolution.

"You should have come to me, little doe. Always come to me." The scent of her shampoo filled my lungs. "I'd do everything to give you the answers you need. But I can't keep you safe if you shut me out."

"I know. I'm sorry. So sorry."

Dio, each broken apology was another lash across my soul. Here she was, terrified for her brother, and still trying to shoulder the blame.

How could I possibly fault her for wanting to do more to find him when I hadn't given her anything beyond 'trust me'? Even I was growing restless waiting for Marco's leads.

Pulling back, I met her red-rimmed gaze. "No, I'm the one who needs to apologise. I was too harsh. My world—" 

I swallowed hard as my thumb traced the delicate curve of her cheekbone. 

"People in it don't take well to outsiders who stumble too close. The thought of you finding something that could get you harmed... It fucking terrified me."

More tears tracked down her cheeks. "Didn't mean to betray your trust, I swear. I just feel so helpless. Every moment of comfort in your arms, living here while Noah's still out there, it's eating me alive. God, what if we're already too late? What if—" Her voice cracked. "He's all I have."

"Not anymore." I trailed a hand down her back, pressing my lips to her hair. Her temple. Anywhere I could reach. "You have me."

A tiny hiccup escaped her, and she burrowed closer.

"Your brother would want you to be safe." And probably as far as possible from someone like me. "Rushing in blindly won't help him, Mia. We have to be smart. One reckless move could cost everyone."

Curled against my chest, she nodded, her tears dampening my T-shirt. "How do I turn it off, Luca? The constant screams inside my head that I'm failing him with each second I spend lost in you?"

Fuck. The desolation in her voice was a dagger between the ribs. I tightened my hold, wishing I could absorb her anguish.

"We have to be a team, little doe. Do you trust me to help you find him?"

"I do. Completely." Her fingers twisted in my shirt, her tight clutching mirroring the desperate plea in her eyes. "Just bring him back to me. Please."

"Te lo prometto. Your brother is my priority too—I won't stop until he's back with you."

But despite my vow, I prayed I wasn't making a promise I couldn't keep. That it wasn't too late. 

Because losing Noah would ruin her. Even more so if my people were ever involved.

I eased back and brushed wayward strands from her face. "Right now, you need to eat. Then I'm taking you somewhere to clear your head."

"Not hungry."

On cue, her stomach growled in disagreement.

"Humour me." I retrieved the tray George had left with her favourite comfort foods. "A few bites. For me."

A faint smile touched her lips as I settled beside her. "You don't play fair."

"Never claimed to. Open up, bella." 

Bite by bite, I fed her, persuading her to sip the fresh juice in between. Watching the colour return to her cheeks and the life in her eyes eased the barbed wire constricting my lungs.

"Better?"

She nodded. Progress.

"Bene. Because we have a plane to catch."

"A plane?" Brows drew together in an adorable furrow.

"Si, cara. You want answers about my world, about me? Then I'm going to give you that."

***

Sunlight glinted off my jet on the tarmac. Olivia's step faltered at the foot of the narrow stairs, her lips parting. "Holy crap. A private jet?"

"Mhm."

"Are you kidnapping me?" That playful spark of hers never failed to make my blood hum.

"Something like that."

Leather seats enveloped us as the cabin crew secured the hatch and the ground staff performed their final checks. When the engines thrummed to life, I took her palm in mine. "Remember when you told me you dreamt of seeing Italy? How does a quick trip to Firenze sound?"

"Florence?" Her free hand flew to her mouth. "But I don't have my passport with me."

"You were saying?"

For an endless moment, she simply stared at the slim blue booklet I'd taken out of my jacket, courtesy of Katie and Marco. Then a squeal of pure delight erupted, and she launched herself at me, peppering my jaw with grateful kisses I greedily accepted.

This. This was what I craved—being her source of light, not darkness.

The flight was easy conversations and carefree smiles. And when she dozed off halfway through, her breath warm against my neck, I didn't dare move.

Instead, I memorised the flutter of her lashes against her cheeks, the curve of her nose, every beauty spot and mark of her face. 

She was breathtaking. More beautiful than any masterpiece I'd ever seen. More precious than anything I'd ever held.

The pilot's descent announcement startled her awake. I kissed the top of her head, drawing her attention to the window, and whispered, "Look."

Red terracotta rooftops, ancient bridges and piazzas, and the winding Arno slicing through like a shiny ribbon—the city spilt in all its glory below us.

The tyres touched down on Italian soil minutes later.

"Benvenuta a Firenze," I said as we stepped off the plane and got into the awaiting car.

Olivia drank in the scenery while I drove into the city, her fingers pressed to the window at the blend of ancient and modern that made Florence unique. 

"It's even more beautiful than I imagined."

 Pride swelled in my chest. This was my heritage. The soil, tended by generations of Morettis, my history, and I wanted to share it with her. 

"Wait until you see the rest, little doe."  

The Palazzo Vecchio rose before us, its medieval tower piercing the sky, eliciting a breathless "It's surreal" from her lips.

Police barriers appeared, which filled her expression with questions. "What's going on?"

"Nothing to worry about." I simply nodded at the officers, and they waved us through without hesitation, letting us access the private covered parking. "Ready to see some art?"

The walk was short, but with every step, anticipation rippled through me. I watched her face, waiting for her reaction.

"Wait." Recognition dawned once we reached the main entrance. "Galleria Uffizi? Are you telling me we're going to one of the most famous art museums in the world? That's—" 

But the sparkle dimmed when she spotted the 'Closed Due To Emergency' sign. "Oh. Guess it wasn't meant to be."

"Not quite." 

All I could do was smirk and guide her past the gates to a side entry.

"Luca, we can't—it's closed—"

The guard's deep bow as he opened the door cut off her protest. "Signior Moretti." 

She gasped while I tugged her inside, and when we stepped into the empty halls, the realisation slowly sank in. "What did you... How?"

"Moretti perk." 

Like the power to bend a city to my will. My name was law and control here, so closing one of the world's most visited museums for her was hardly a challenge.

"You didn't have t—"

My lips found hers, gentle but unmistakable in intent. "I wanted to. Besides, art like this deserves to be savoured." Like her.

Down the marble corridor, a museum staff member approached us. "Signor Moretti, Signorina, would you like a guided tour?"

"It won't be necessary, grazie mille," Olivia chimed in before I could respond and, with a smile, she pulled me deeper into the gallery.

For the next few hours, I observed captivated while she flitted from masterpiece to masterpiece, her enthusiasm brighter than any paint on canvas.

She was radiant in her element, passionate and brilliant as she explained histories and techniques, hands flying to illustrate her points. I could have watched her forever, caught in her orbit. 

But Florence awaited.

The city welcomed us as I guided her through cobbled piazzas and down hidden alleys, pointing out landmarks, sharing Florentine history, and delighting in her rapt attention. Despite growing up here, seeing the city through her eyes was like experiencing it for the first time.

A tiny gelateria on Via del Corso caught her eye with its pastel façade promising sweet delights. The elderly owner beamed as Olivia ordered in careful Italian, "Pistachio and fior di latte, per favore."

One bite and her eyes fluttered closed, a blissful moan escaping. I chuckled, swiping a stray smear of gelato from her chin, and licked the rich cream from my fingers with a smirk that earned me a playful swat. "Heaven?"

"Almost. But I like this even more," she said and kissed me.

Cheers erupted around us as I deepened it, the gelato now all forgotten because she was the most decadent dessert I craved.

As the hours went by, we explored all my favourite spots. The hole-in-the-wall pizzeria where we argued which slice of pizza was better, then indulged with cantuccini and vin santo. The rooftop bar where she sipped a Negroni, and I downed an espresso with the Arno and Ponte Vecchio in our view.

Hell, even the church where I had my first fumbling kiss made the tour.

Firenze spread out before us like a painting as we watched the city from Piazzale Michelangelo by the end. But I had a final stop in mind. 

The most important one.

"There's one more place I want to show you." 

Rolling Tuscan hills stretched out ahead, and neat rows of cypress trees lined the countryside road as we left the city behind.

It wasn't long before the crunch of gravel accompanied our arrival at the villa, the weathered stone and climbing ivy exactly as they had been for the last three decades.

"Wow. This place is straight out of a postcard," Olivia breathed, taking in the sprawling grounds and distant vineyards.

But I couldn't take my eyes off her. She made everything brighter, more vivid.

Smiling, I led her inside. "It's been in the family for generations. Dante and I spent our summers here with our cousins."

Sun-drenched memories and laughter drifted through my mind. Happy times before the weight of the family business had settled on my shoulders.

I showed her around, each room a piece of my past. The kitchen where Nonna, Dante and I used to shape fresh pasta. The library where I'd devoured adventure novels and later, stolen sips of vino and limoncello. The rare chess games my dad used to play with me in the garden.

The sun slipped beneath the horizon in a riot of colour when we ended our tour on the terrace. Yet, my attention was drawn to the simple marker beneath an ancient olive tree.

"I'll be right back," I said, brushing my lips to her temple. "Make yourself at home. The staff are at your disposal."

My steps were heavy as I walked the familiar path. Gravel turned to hard-packed earth, then soil, leading me as much as the knowledge of what lay beneath. The closer I drew, the harder my pulse pounded.

Finally, I dropped to my knees and traced the sun-warmed engraved letters.

"Ciao, amico. Scusa—I missed our annual drink."

Twenty years, and the wound still bled. Time hadn't made it any easier to reconcile the laughing boy I'd known with the small plot of earth and green grass before me.

The worn, leather-bound flask was smooth against my palm as I pulled it from my jacket.

"Remember when we stole this from Nonno's cellar? We thought we were so clever."

Tipping the flask, I poured a generous amount of aged grappa onto the thirsty earth and took a swig.

"I met someone, Teo." The confession rushed out of me to the person who'd known me best before the world sharpened my edges and hardened my heart. "She's stubborn as hell. Sees right fucking through me too, and yet she hasn't run away."

Even in the silence, I could hear his answering laughter. "Si. I know, I know—I'll fuck it up. But cavolo, I want to be wrong this time."

Like every year, I caught him up on the family, the business. The hole he'd left behind. Told him how his parents and his siblings were doing—I always made sure they were okay, even from a distance.

A rustle behind me made me tense and stand, but the delicate arms that wound around my waist were a welcome weight. Olivia pressed her cheek between my shoulder blades, her warmth seeping into my bones.

"Are you okay?"

I turned, taking in the gentle concern shining from those blue eyes. "Better now that you're here." Her fingers twined with mine were like anchors in a storm. "There's someone I need to introduce you to."

Brows puckered, she let me guide her closer to the gravestone.

"Mia, meet Matteo. My best friend."