Chapter 15: Echoes in the Stone
The heavy oak door of the suite clicked shut, finally sealing Élise away from the suffocating luxury of the Palazzo's dining hall. The silence of the room was a shock after the hours of psychological warfare she had just endured. Her heart was still hammering against her ribs, the phantom sensation of Adriano's proximity on the terrace lingering like a cold fire on her skin.
She kicked off her heels, the cold marble floor grounding her, and grabbed her phone. She needed a voice that didn't sound like a business transaction or a threat. She needed home.
The call connected on the second ring.
"Élise? My God, I've been staring at my phone for hours," Zara's voice crackled through, sharp and energetic as always. "Tell me everything. Is the hotel a palace? Is the food edible? And most importantly, has the 'Ice CEO' actually spoken to you like a human being yet?"
"Zara," Élise breathed, sliding down the back of the door until she was sitting on the floor, her obsidian dress pooling around her like a dark ink stain. "It's... it's more intense than I imagined. I feel like I'm walking through a minefield in five-inch heels."
"Explain," Zara demanded. "Start from the moment you landed."
"Everything is a game here," Élise said, rubbing her temples. "There's this woman here, Lucia. She's the daughter of a business partner, and apparently, the girl his parents want him to marry. Zara, she is terrifying. She's beautiful, dressed in Valentino, and she looks at me like I'm a bug she's waiting to crush. She spent the entire dinner trying to humiliate me."
"A rival?" Zara's voice sharpened. "I knew it. A man like Adriano was never going to be 'available' without a fight. But why is she targeting you? You're an intern, Élise. You're there to take notes, not steal the groom."
"That's what I thought! But Adriano... he's making it complicated. He defended me at dinner. He made me speak in front of everyone, proving I knew the files better than they did. And then, on the terrace..." Élise's voice trailed off.
"What happened on the terrace?" Zara's tone was hushed.
"He told me I was the only thing that made him feel like he hadn't turned to ice. He was so close, Zara. I couldn't breathe. But it's not just him. Pedro is here."
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. "The neighbor? Pedro? In Florence?"
"He's been texting me all night," Élise whispered, her eyes darting to the closed curtains. "He knew what I was wearing. He knew we were drinking Sangiovese. He's watching the hotel, Zara. Adriano hates him. He warned me that Pedro is a predator. He told me that when we get back to Milan, I can't go back to my apartment. He wants me to stay with him where it's 'safe'."
"Wait, back up," Zara said, her voice now filled with genuine concern. "Your 'nice' neighbor followed you to a different city and is stalking your dinner from the shadows? And your billionaire boss wants to move you into his house for protection? Élise, this isn't a fashion internship anymore. This is a tug-of-war. But why would Adriano care so much about a neighbor?"
"I don't know," Élise said, a tear finally escaping and trekking through her makeup. "He says he's seen men like Pedro before. He says Pedro is trying to take something that doesn't belong to him. I feel like a pawn in a game I don't know the rules to."
"Listen to me," Zara said firmly. "Don't agree to move anywhere yet. Finish the trip, do your job, and get back to Milan. We'll meet at the cafe on Monday and figure this out. Just... stay in the light, okay? Don't go anywhere alone with either of them."
Across the Arno, in a boutique hotel that lacked the Palazzo's history but made up for it in modern, aggressive luxury, Pedro sat by a floor-to-ceiling window. The lights of the city were reflected in the amber liquid of his glass.
He wasn't wearing a tuxedo. He was in a simple black sweater, looking relaxed, looking like the man who had helped Élise move her boxes just weeks ago. But the look in his eyes was anything but neighborly.
His phone sat on the table, the screen glowing with a photo he had taken from across the street a grainy but unmistakable shot of Adriano and Élise on the terrace, their silhouettes nearly touching.
"Always so predictable, brother," Pedro murmured to the empty room.
He took a slow sip of his drink, savoring the burn. He knew exactly what was happening in that Palazzo. He knew the pressure his parents were putting on Adriano to marry Lucia. He knew how much Adriano valued his "Ice CEO" reputation. And he knew that Élise Laurent was the first crack in that ice in over a decade.
Pedro didn't hate Élise. In fact, he found her charming. Her silence wasn't weakness; it was a sanctuary, and he understood why Adriano was drawn to it. But that was exactly why he had to take it. To Pedro, Élise wasn't just a neighbor; she was the ultimate piece of leverage.
He picked up his phone and began typing.
Pedro: You didn't answer. Is he keeping you busy, or are you just scared?
He deleted it. Too aggressive. He needed to be the "safe" alternative to Adriano's cold intensity.
Pedro: The lights are beautiful tonight, aren't they? I saw a dress in a shop window today that reminded me of you simple, elegant, and far too good for this city. Sleep well, neighbor. Don't let the 'Ice King' freeze your heart.
He hit send and watched the 'delivered' status appear.
Pedro stood up and walked to a large map of the Moretti estate holdings pinned to the wall of his suite. He moved a small, silver pin from Milan to Florence. He knew that Adriano was probably watching the security feeds, grinding his teeth, wondering how Pedro always stayed one step ahead.
"You think you're protecting her, Adriano," Pedro whispered to the map. "But all you're doing is bringing her closer to the fire. And I've always been the one who liked to watch things burn."
He turned off the lights, leaving only the glow of Florence to illuminate his smile. The war was no longer just about boards and balance sheets. It was about her. And for the first time in his life, Pedro felt like he was holding all the right cards.
Back at the Palazzo, the notification pinged on Élise's nightstand. She stared at the screen from across the room, the glow casting long shadows against the gold-leaf ceiling.
She didn't pick it up. She couldn't.
Instead, she walked to the window and looked out at the city. She thought of Adriano's eyes on the terrace the way they looked when he told her she was the only one who made him feel like he hadn't turned to ice.
She was an intern. She was twenty-three years old. And she was currently the most dangerous person in Florence, though she had no idea why.
She closed the heavy velvet curtains, but the feeling of being watched didn't go away. Down in the lobby, she knew Lucia was likely plotting her professional demise. Across the river, Pedro was watching her windows. And somewhere in the room next to hers, Adriano Moretti was deciding her future without her consent.