Chapter 23: The Longing for Home
The Navigli district was a maze of dark canals and rain-blurred streetlights, but Élise didn't stop to admire the beauty of Milan tonight. She scrambled up the stairs to Zara's apartment, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The luxury of the Varese estate and the high-fashion world of the Moretti Group felt like a toxic dream she was desperate to wake up from.
When Zara finally opened the door, she barely had time to say hello before Élise collapsed into her arms, sobbing.
"I can't do this, Zara," Élise cried, her voice muffled by her friend's shoulder. "I just wanted a career. I just wanted to make my mother proud and send money back to France. How did it turn into this? Why am I caught between two men who look at me like I'm a ghost or a prize?"
Zara pulled her inside, locking the door and leading her to the small, mismatched sofa. "Élise, look at me. Breathe. You're safe here."
"I'm not safe anywhere in this country," Élise whispered, her eyes red and swollen. "I want to go home. I want to see my mother. I want to be back in our tiny kitchen in Paris where the biggest problem was a leaky faucet, not secret sisters and blood feuds. I want to resign. I want to disappear."
She clutched the singed leather satchel to her lap. It felt heavy not with documents, but with the weight of a family's sins. She realized she had walked into a trap the moment she picked up those fumbled papers in the interview. Adriano hadn't hired an intern; he had hired a distraction. And Pedro hadn't befriended a neighbor; he had scouted a target.
"Then we'll get you a ticket," Zara said firmly, grabbing her laptop. "The first flight to Charles de Gaulle tomorrow morning. We'll pack your things, and you'll leave this mess behind."
For a few minutes, the hope of France felt like a lifeline. But then, the air in the apartment shifted. The temperature seemed to drop, and the quiet of the street outside was broken by the low, predatory hum of a powerful engine.
The Maserati.
Élise froze. "He's here."
"Maybe it's just a neighbor," Zara started, but a heavy, authoritative knock thundered against the door. It wasn't the frantic pounding of a madman; it was the steady, inevitable strike of a man who owned the city.
"Élise," Adriano's voice came through the wood, low and vibrating with an intensity that made the floorboards tremble. "I know you're in there. Open the door."
"Go away!" Élise shouted, her voice cracking. "I'm done, Adriano! I resign! I'm going back to France!"
Silence followed. It was more terrifying than the knocking. Then, she heard the soft click of a key the master key he had undoubtedly squeezed out of the building manager in seconds.
The door swung open. Adriano stood in the threshold, alone. Pedro was nowhere to be seen, but Adriano looked like he had been through hell. His knuckles were bruised, his white shirt was stained with rain, and his hair was a mess. But his eyes dark and burning were fixed solely on her.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. He didn't look at Zara. He looked at Élise as if she were the only thing left in a crumbling world.
"You aren't going to France," he said, his voice dropping to a jagged, heated whisper.
"You can't stop me!" Élise stood up, the blanket falling from her shoulders. "I'm not your property, Adriano! My mother is waiting for me. I'm leaving this nightmare!"
Adriano moved then, crossing the small room in three long strides. Zara stepped back, intimidated by the sheer gravity of his presence. He stopped inches from Élise, his heat radiating off him in waves. He didn't grab her; instead, he reached out, his hand hovering near her face before he tucked a stray, damp lock of hair behind her ear.
"I will give you anything," he whispered, his eyes searching hers with a raw, terrifying vulnerability. "I will give you the company. I will burn the Vigna del Sole to the ground. I will send Pedro to the other side of the world. But do not ask me to let you go back to a life where I cannot see you."
"Why?" she sobbed, hitting his chest with her fists. "Why me? I was just an intern!"
He caught her wrists, pulling her flush against him. The "Ice CEO" was gone, replaced by a man who looked like he was drowning. "Because for ten years, I have lived in a tomb. And then you walked into that office, silent and bright, and you made me want to breathe again. You aren't just an intern, Élise. You're the only part of my life that isn't a lie."
He leaned down, his forehead pressing against hers. "Stay. Not as my intern. Not as a secret. Stay, and I will show you the light that note promised. But if you go to France... Pedro will find you first. And he won't be as gentle as I am."
Élise looked into his dark, desperate eyes and realized the most terrifying truth of all: she didn't want to run anymore. She wanted to know the man behind the ice, even if it burned her alive.