ZOE DEAN'S POV
After my bath, I stretched out on the bed, my hair still damp against the pillow. The ceiling above me blurred in and out of focus as my mind refused to stay still. It was past noon, and Nero still hadn't returned.
I chewed lightly on my bottom lip, replaying everything from the morning. Maybe I'd been too harsh. Maybe I'd let my fear twist my words.
The truth was clear in my head, though I hated to admit it: Nero was dangerous. He was a walking red flag, the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about. He was darkness wrapped in sharp edges, and I knew I should be terrified of him.
And yet… he hadn't been that with me. Not once.
He hadn't forced himself on me. He hadn't raised his voice. He'd bought me things, treated me carefully, almost… gently. The calmness he carried when he was around me didn't match the picture I'd painted in my head.
That was the part I couldn't understand. Why?
Why hadn't he shown me the cruel side everyone else feared? Why was he nice to me when he didn't have to be? Why did it feel safe in moments when everything about him screamed danger?
My thoughts tangled tighter, wrapping around each other until I could barely breathe. Everything was happening too fast, and I wasn't sure if I was keeping up, or just drowning.
The sudden chime of the bell yanked me out of my thoughts. My whole body tensed, and my eyes flew to the door.
Nero?
I sat up quickly, heart pounding, and hurried to the door. My hand hesitated only a second on the knob before I pulled it open. My heart sank.
It wasn't him.
A woman stood there instead, smiling brightly. She wore a hoodie and shorts, her casual look clashing with the strange, giddy energy she carried.
"Hey," she greeted, her smile widening. "You're Zoe Dean, right?"
I blinked at her, thrown off. "Yes… and you are?" My eyes instinctively darted past her, scanning the hallway for any sign of Nero. Nothing. My chest sank a little. Maybe he was angry, so angry he didn't even want to see me.
"Emily," she said cheerfully. She tilted her head, and when she noticed the way my attention kept slipping away, her brows pulled together. "Are you okay?"
I forced a small smile. "Yes, I'm fine." My voice didn't sound convincing even to me. "How may I help you?"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce myself properly." She reached her hand out in a friendly shake. "I'm Emily Hayes. Benny's wife."
Benny. The name clicked after a pause—Nero's assistant. His best friend, if I remembered right. So this was his wife.
"Oh… hi," I said quickly, stepping aside. "Please, come in."
She slipped in without hesitation, still smiling as though she'd been waiting all week to meet me. She dropped onto the couch like she owned it, comfortable in a way that only made me feel more awkward.
"Um…" I started softly, unsure how to host. "What do I get for you? Water, juice—?"
She waved her hand dismissively, grinning. "Nah, I'm good."
I nodded, lingering awkwardly until she suddenly tugged my hand, pulling me down beside her. I startled, my body stiff against the couch.
"Sit. Relax," she said warmly. "Nero asked me to keep you company."
At the mention of his name, my heart skipped, betraying me.
"Oh," I muttered, heat creeping up my neck.
Her grin widened. "I thought Benny was exaggerating when he said Nero came back with a beautiful woman. But he wasn't lying." She looked me over with open admiration. "You really are beautiful."
My cheeks burned, and I lowered my gaze shyly. "Um… thank you. You're beautiful too."
She chuckled, clearly pleased. "Thanks."
Her energy was so big, so bright, it almost swallowed me whole. She filled the space with her voice, asking me question after question, while my mind, traitor that it was, kept drifting.
Where was Nero?
Why hadn't he come back?
Was he avoiding me?
And why did it bother me this much?
*********
STEFANO RUSSO'S (NERO) POV
My car roared down the road, tires screaming against the asphalt every time I twisted the wheel too sharply. My jaw was clenched, my eyes hard on the empty stretch ahead. Beside me, Benny gripped the seat, his voice tight but measured.
"Yo, man. Slow down. Nero, you good?"
"I'm good," I muttered, the word flat, clipped. My foot pressed harder on the accelerator.
The tires screeched again as I took another corner, and Benny swore under his breath. "Yo, Nero! You're gonna get us killed at this speed. What the hell, man?"
His voice cut through the fog in my head. I exhaled roughly, the anger inside me still simmering. He was right, I was driving like a maniac. I eased off the gas a little, but the car still growled, the tires still protested.
"Since we left the hotel you've been like this," Benny said, turning to look at me. "What happened? You're wound up like I've never seen before."
I stayed silent, my eyes locked on the road.
He let out a low whistle, then said, "I hardly ever see you this upset." There was a pause before he asked carefully, "Is… it about Zoe?"
The name hit me like a punch. My frown deepened, and that was answer enough for him.
"So it is about Zoe," he said softly.
"I don't want to talk about it." My voice was sharp, final. I pushed harder on the gas, the car leaping forward as if it could outrun the thought of her.
"Yo, Nero!" Benny snapped, bracing a hand on the dash. "You gotta calm down. Emily's waiting for me back at the hotel. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
I ignored him, my silence heavy in the car. The road blurred past, but inside my chest everything was loud, too loud.
Then, his voice came again, slower this time, almost cautious. "You like her, don't you?"
My hands tightened around the wheel, knuckles bleaching white. "I don't." The word came out hard, but even as I said it, something traitorous stirred in my chest, a flutter I couldn't control.
Frustration boiled up, hotter than I could contain. I swerved the car to the side of the road and slammed it to a stop. The door flew open, and I stepped out, my breath ragged.
I walked a few paces away, each step heavy, and bent forward, dragging both hands over my head. I felt like I was coming apart. What the hell was happening to me? This wasn't me. I wasn't the kind of man to feel like this—soft, vulnerable, undone.
A hand settled on my shoulder. Benny's voice was low. "Nero… what's going on with you? You're losing control, man."
I squeezed my eyes shut. The words slipped out before I could stop them, hoarse and raw. "I don't know what's wrong with me anymore."
The admission burned. I hated it. I hated the weakness curling in my chest.
"What happened?" Benny pressed, worry in his tone now.
I let out a long, shaky sigh. "Do you think I'm falling for this girl?" The words were barely above a whisper, but once spoken, they couldn't be taken back.
Benny didn't answer right away. Instead, he asked, "How do you feel around her?"
I lifted my head slowly, staring at the road stretching into the distance. "I don't know, man." My voice cracked with frustration. "I don't know how to describe it."
I pushed myself upright, turning back toward the car, my chest tight. "All I know is… I like her being in my space. That's it. Is that normal?"
We slid back into the car, the silence thick between us. I gripped the wheel, started the engine.
Benny glanced at me, then spoke with certainty. "You're falling for her, Nero."
My breath hitched, and I turned to him slowly, the weight of his words pressing on me.
Falling?
How the hell was that possible? Falling in love with someone I'd met barely twenty-four hours ago?
The thought both terrified and pulled at me in a way I couldn't explain.