Chapter 13: The Coldest Peak
The sun had not yet crested the horizon when the black town car pulled onto the tarmac of Linate Airport's private terminal. Milan was a smudge of charcoal and indigo in the rearview mirror, but inside the car, the air was thick with a silence that felt like a physical weight. Élise sat as far to the right as the leather seat allowed, her fingers tracing the hem of her wool coat. Beside her, Adriano Moretti was a silhouette of sharp lines and cold intent. He hadn't spoken since they left his office building, his focus entirely on the glowing screen of his phone, his jaw set in a way that suggested he was chewing through glass.
As the car stopped beside the sleek, silver Gulfstream, Élise felt a flutter of pure, unadulterated nerves. She was a girl from a quiet neighborhood in Paris; she was used to the Metro, the smell of rain on pavement, and the frantic energy of crowded streets. She was not used to this the quiet hum of a multi-million dollar engine waiting specifically for her boss.
"Out," Adriano said. It wasn't a request.
He stepped out first, his movements fluid and authoritative. The flight crew stood at attention, their expressions masked by professional neutrality. As Élise followed, her heels clicking tentatively on the metal stairs, she felt the wind whip her hair across her face. She felt small. She felt like an intruder in a world of gold and titanium.
The interior of the jet was a masterpiece of cream leather and polished walnut. It smelled of expensive cedar and success.
"Sit," Adriano gestured to one of the wide, plush chairs facing his own.
As the jet began its taxi, Élise buckled her seatbelt with trembling hands. She tried to focus on her briefcase, pulling out the Valenti acquisition files to prove she was there for work. But as the plane roared into the sky, the G-force pinning her against the seat, she couldn't help but look at him.
Adriano was watching her. Not the files. Not the window. Just her.
"You look like you're waiting for an execution," he remarked, his voice smooth and dangerously calm.
"I've never been on a private jet before, Monsieur Moretti," she replied, her French accent slipping through her professional mask.
"It is a tool, Élise. Nothing more." He leaned back, crossing one long leg over the other. "In Florence, everything is a tool. The dinner, the wine, the clothes you wear. Even the people you speak to. If you treat it as a fantasy, you will lose. Do you understand?"
"I'm here to work," she said firmly. "I won't lose focus."
A soft ping interrupted the moment. Élise's phone, tucked into the side pocket of her bag, vibrated. She tried to ignore it, but it vibrated again. And again. A persistent, rhythmic intrusion.
Adriano's eyes flicked to her bag. "Your neighbor is awake early."
Élise felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She pulled out the phone, intending to silence it, but the lock screen was already visible.
Pedro: Leaving for Florence without saying goodbye? I'm hurt, Élise. I was going to bring over those vintage prints for your hallway today. Be careful. The air is thin at that altitude.
She quickly turned the phone face down, but it was too late. The name 'Pedro' had burned into the air.
Adriano's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees. Unlike Élise, who saw a "kind neighbor," Adriano saw the man he had shared a dinner table with for twenty years. He saw the brother who had spent a lifetime trying to steal his toys, his grades, and his parents' attention. And now, Pedro was trying to steal his peace of mind.
"He seems to have a very intimate knowledge of your floor plan," Adriano said, his voice dropping to a low, vibrating register.
"He's just being a neighbor, sir. He helped me move the sofa. He knows I'm new to the city."
"And you trust him?" Adriano leaned forward, the space between them shrinking until she could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. "You trust a man who spends his mornings picking out 'prints' for an intern's hallway? A man who hides in the shadows of an office he doesn't own?"
"I don't have many friends in Italy," Élise defended, her voice small. "He has been kind. Is there something wrong with that?"
Adriano's eyes darkened. He wanted to scream the truth. He wanted to tell her that the "kind man" was his own flesh and blood, a man who didn't do anything out of the goodness of his heart. But he couldn't. Not yet. If he told her now, Pedro would win he would become the victim, the misunderstood brother, and Adriano would be the jealous tyrant.
"Kindness is a mask, Élise. Pedro doesn't want to help you decorate. He wants to see if he can take something that doesn't belong to him." Adriano reached out, his hand hovering near her chin for a second before he pulled back. "He is not a friend. He is a predator who has found a target that doesn't know how to see the hooks beneath the bait."
"I can handle myself," she whispered, feeling a strange mix of fear and comfort from his intensity.
"No, you can't," he countered. "Because you still believe people are as honest as you are. That is a dangerous way to live in Italy. Especially in my circle."
The flight was short, but the silence that followed was suffocating. When they landed at the private terminal in Florence, a sleek black Maserati was already waiting on the tarmac.
They arrived at the Palazzo della Luna, a hotel so exclusive it was more of a fortress for the wealthy. The lobby was a cathedral of marble and frescoed ceilings. As the concierge stepped forward to greet them, a sharp, clicking sound echoed across the stone floor.
Click. Click. Click.
A woman emerged from the shadows of a grand staircase. She was dressed in a Valentino suit that cost more than Élise's yearly salary, her hair a perfect sheet of dark silk. Her beauty was architectural sharp, cold, and flawless.
"Adriano," the woman said, her voice like honey poured over glass. "You're late. My father has been in the lounge for twenty minutes."
Adriano went stiff beside Élise. "Lucia. I wasn't aware you were joining the Valenti meeting."
"Mother insisted," Lucia replied, stepping closer. She didn't look at Adriano; she looked directly at Élise, her eyes scanning the intern from her sensible heels to her messy bun. It was a look of pure, calculated dismissal. "And who is this? I thought you said this trip was strictly executive. Did you bring a pet?"
"This is Élise Laurent," Adriano said, his voice regaining its icy edge. "My assistant for the acquisition. She is here because she is essential to the documentation. And because I decided she would be here."
Lucia let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Essential? An intern? How charmingly altruistic of you, Adriano. I didn't know you had a hobby for mentoring... the help."
Élise felt the sting of the words, but she kept her chin up, remembering Adriano's words on the plane. I care about results.
"Miss Laurent is more capable than most of the people your father employs, Lucia," Adriano said, his hand landing firmly on the small of Élise's back. The touch was possessive, a silent command that sent a jolt of electricity through her. "Now, go tell your father we will join him after we've checked in. Miss Laurent needs to prepare the briefing."
Lucia's eyes narrowed, the "mean girl" mask slipping just enough to show the burning jealousy beneath. She looked at Adriano's hand on Élise's back, then back to Élise's face.
"Don't get too comfortable, ma petite," Lucia whispered as she brushed past them. "In this family, interns are like seasonal fashion. They're replaced the moment the weather changes. And Adriano... he always prefers the classics."
As Lucia disappeared into the lounge, Adriano's hand didn't move from Élise's back. He turned her toward the elevators, his expression darker than she had ever seen it.
"She is your fiancée, isn't she?" Élise asked, her voice trembling as the elevator doors closed, sealing them in the small, golden space.
Adriano looked down at her. "She is a business arrangement my parents are trying to finalize. Nothing more."
"She hates me," Élise whispered.
"Good," Adriano said, surprising her. "It means she recognizes a threat when she sees one."
He stepped closer, pinning her slightly against the mirrored wall of the elevator. "Listen to me, Élise. Florence is a trap. Lucia will try to break you. My parents will try to ignore you. And Pedro... Pedro will try to call you. You will ignore all of them. You will look at no one but me. Do you understand?"
"Why?" she breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Because," Adriano whispered, his face inches from hers, "I am the only one in this city who isn't trying to use you to hurt someone else. I am the only one who actually wants you here for you."
It was a half-truth, and he knew it. He wanted her because she was pure, because she was the only thing in his life that Pedro hadn't touched yet. He was protecting her from his brother, but in doing so, he was pulling her deeper into a war she didn't know existed.
"Go to your room," he commanded as the doors opened. "Dress for dinner. Black. Nothing modest. I want them to look at you and realize that my 'assistant' has more power than their entire board of directors."
As Élise walked down the long, carpeted hallway to her room, she checked her phone one last time.
Pedro: You didn't answer. Is he keeping you busy, or are you just scared? Remember, Élise... I'm the one who knows what your home looks like. He only knows your desk.
She shivered, locking the phone. She felt like she was standing on a thin wire stretched between two mountains, and the wind was starting to pick up.