My eyes flutter open, squinting against the bright sunlight slipping into my room through the open curtains I forgot to close last night. I stretch languidly, my body deliciously sore in all the right places. Rolling over, I reach for him, but my hand meets only empty sheets, the space beside me cold.

A pang of disappointment tightens my chest as I realize he's not here. I wonder where he is, but I push the thought aside for now. With a sigh, I climb out of bed, wincing slightly at the soreness between my thighs. Memories of last night flood my mind, bringing a blush to my cheeks as I make my way to the bathroom.

The hot shower soothes my aching muscles but does little to ease the ache in my heart. After dressing, I head downstairs, my stomach grumbling. I'd missed breakfast, so I decide to make myself some grilled cheese - the only thing I know how to cook without burning the house down.

Before starting, I stop by Aurora's room to check on her, but she's not there. I send her a quick text, hoping she's doing alright after last night's revelations. My heart clenches at the thought of what she's going through.

As I struggle with the stove, strong arms suddenly encircle my waist, pulling me back against a solid chest. The familiar scent of Stefano's cologne fills my nostrils, and I melt into his embrace, the tension from the morning's loneliness dissipating like mist in the sun.

"Hi, luce del sole," he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck as he places a soft, lingering kiss on the sensitive skin just below my ear. A shiver runs down my spine at the contact, my body instantly responding to his touch.

I turn in his arms, drinking in the sight of him - the tousled hair, the stubble lining his chiseled jaw, those piercing green eyes that seem to see straight into my soul. "Hello," I breathe, wrapping my arms around his neck and relishing the feel of his body pressed against mine.

"Where were you this morning?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light and casual but unable to completely mask the note of vulnerability that creeps in. Waking up alone, not knowing where he was or when he'd return, had left me feeling unmoored, adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Stefano's brow furrows slightly as he tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek. "I had a meeting," he explains, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up."

I nod, leaning into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. "Did you sleep well?" he asks, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he leans in to brush a tender kiss across my lips.

"Like a baby," I reply, a blush heating my cheeks as memories of the previous night flood my mind - tangled sheets, sweat-slicked skin, breathless moans, and whispered words of devotion. He had worshipped my body so thoroughly, so completely, that I'd drifted off into a sated, dreamless sleep.

"Expected," he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief and barely restrained desire. I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself.

"What are you doing today?" Stefano asks, his large hands splayed across my lower back, tracing soothing circles that make me want to arch into his touch like a cat.

"Preparing for my trip back home," I reply, a hint of sadness coloring my words. The thought of leaving Stefano, even temporarily, feels like a physical ache in my chest.

Stefano's brow furrows, his green eyes searching mine. "Put that on hold. I'm taking you out," he declares, his voice brooking no argument.

"To where?" I ask curiosity piqued even as my heart swells with affection for this man who always seems to know exactly what I need.

"You'll see," he says with a mischievous grin, taking my hand and leading me out of the kitchen. I grab my purse, and we head outside, the warm summer breeze caressing our skin as we step into the bright sunlight.

Stefano opens the passenger door of his car for me, ever the gentleman. His touch lingers as he helps me in, his fingers intertwining with mine for a brief moment before he reluctantly pulls away to close the door.

As he slides into the driver's seat, I can't help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with the bittersweet knowledge that our time together is drawing to a close. But I push those thoughts aside, determined to make the most of every moment we have left.

We spend a lovely day together, enjoying a leisurely brunch at a quaint café, the sun warming our skin as we sip coffee and share secrets. Stefano listens intently as I talk about my hopes and dreams, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of my hand. Afterward, we explore the city, wandering down cobblestone streets and ducking into little shops filled with treasures.

The week flies by in a blur of laughter, love, and stolen moments. Every touch, every kiss, feels imbued with a desperate kind of tenderness, as if we're trying to pour a lifetime's worth of affection into the little time we have left.

But all too soon, it's time for me to return to Miami. As I stand in the airport about to board my flight, i watch a pensive look on Stefano's handsome face. He pulls me into his arms, and I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in, trying to memorize the feel of his body against mine, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. "I'll miss you," I whisper, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. "But we'll see each other again soon, right?"

He tilts my chin up, his green eyes boring into mine with an intensity that steals my breath. In their depths, I see the same longing that I feel coursing through my veins.

"Nothing in this world could keep me from you," he vows, his voice rough with emotion. He seals his promise with a searing kiss that leaves me weak in the knees, my heart racing, and my skin tingling.

And as I boarded the plane back to Miami, my heart full, I couldn't wait to see him again.

***

The aroma of roasted chicken and herbs fills the dining room as I settle into my usual seat at the family table. It's been a month since I returned to Miami, and despite the familiar surroundings, I feel changed. My heart aches with a longing I've never experienced before - I miss Stefano terribly. If someone had told me a few months ago that I'd be counting down the hours until my nightly FaceTime call with him, I would have laughed in disbelief. Now, it's the highlight of my day.

As my mother passes the salad bowl, I catch her studying me with a mix of curiosity and concern. She's been doing that a lot lately, probably wondering about the changes she sees in me since my return from Sicily. But tonight, she doesn't pry; instead, she turns to discuss some charity event with my father.

The conversation flows around me, and I'm content to listen, my mind half on the upcoming video call with Stefano. Suddenly, my father's voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and authoritative.

"Santiago," he says, turning to my brother. "How's the Mercer project coming along? I heard there were some complications with the zoning permits."

Santiago glances quickly at me before responding. "Actually, Dad, Andrea's the one handling that project now."

A tense silence falls over the table, thick enough to cut with a knife. I can feel my father's gaze shift to me, his expression unreadable, but the air crackles with his barely contained disapproval.

"Is that so?" he says, his tone carefully neutral, but I can hear the undercurrent of skepticism. "And when was this decision made?"

"As the acting VP of the company, Andrea is supposed to be in charge of the project," Santiago replies, his voice steady.

"Acting VP?" My father exclaims, his fork dropping against the plate with a clatter as he stares at Santiago in disbelief.

"Yes, Dad," Santiago affirms, his resolve unwavering while my heart pounds in my chest, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through me.

My father's face darkens, his words dripping with disdain. "So because your sister didn't fuck up things in California, you suddenly think she's capable enough to handle bigger projects?"

"Yes, I am," I interject, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them. Stefano's encouragement echoes in my mind, giving me strength I didn't know I possessed.

My father turns to look at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge. I straighten in my chair, swallowing hard as I meet his eyes, refusing to back down.

"Hmm... it seems my children want to run the company into the ground. Why the fuck would you hand such an important project to Andrea?" Dad yells at Santiago, his face flushing with anger.

"Because, like she said, she can fucking handle it!" Santiago barks back, surprising me with his vehemence. He's always tried to make Dad see me differently, but never has he raised his voice while doing it.

"Wow, she has you yelling at your father now. What's next? She'll ask you to hand over the company to her?" Dad's words are cutting, designed to wound.

"Dad!" Santiago exclaims, exasperated.

"On second thought, maybe Santiago should just handle it," I say, not liking the way they were fighting because of me, old insecurities threatening to resurface.

"No!" Santiago says firmly, then turns to Dad. "She can handle it; if she messes up, I will pay the price."

Here's a revised version of the scene that maintains the original dialogue and emotional tone while adding more descriptive details:

This time, I am the one refusing. "You can't do that. There's no need," I say, my voice firm despite the nervous flutter in my stomach.

Santiago turns to face me, his eyes softening as he gives me a little smile. Then, squaring his shoulders, he turns back to Dad. "Let her handle it," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Dad's jaw clenches tight, the muscle twitching visibly as he raises from his seat. His eyes, hard as flint, sweep over both of us before he nods curtly. "Fine! And so help you, God, if she fucks up," he growls, pushing his chair back with a screech that seems to echo in the suddenly silent dining room. He storms out, the door slamming behind him.

I release a breath I didn't know I was holding, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders. The air in the room feels lighter as if Dad's departure took the oppressive atmosphere with him.

"Why did you do that?" I ask Santiago, confusion and gratitude warring within me.

He leans back in his chair, a knowing glint in his eye. "Let's just say someone would have created the chance for you to prove him wrong more forcefully, and I didn't want that," he says cryptically.

My brows furrow as I try to decipher his words. What is he talking about?

As if reading my thoughts, Santiago continues, "He also made me understand that I needed to speak up for you more."

"He?" I ask, and then it hits me like a bolt of lightning. A big smile spreads across my face, warmth blooming in my chest. Stefano! Even from across an ocean, he's fighting for me, believing in me.