Chapter 21: The Sweetest Deception
The morning light shifted from a pale gray to a brilliant, taunting gold, reflecting off the infinity pool and into the library where Élise sat clutching the cold metal key. She looked at it as if it were a weapon. Pedro's message was clear: Adriano was hiding a dark history, a ghost named "Vigna del Sole," and the only way to see the truth was to get back to the city.
But the gates were locked. The guards were loyal. And the only person who could move her was the man currently trying to own her.
If I want to leave, she thought, her heart racing, I have to make him want to take me.
She spent the afternoon transforming. She ignored the sensible sweaters she had packed and went into the walk-in closet of the guest suite, where Adriano had already had a collection of high-end designer pieces delivered. She chose a dress of ribbed, silk-knit in a deep charcoal it was modest in cut but clung to every curve like a second skin. She let her hair down, the dark waves falling over her shoulders, and applied a scent she found on the vanity something with notes of amber and midnight jasmine.
When the roar of the Maserati echoed through the driveway at sunset, Élise didn't hide. She stood at the top of the glass staircase, waiting.
Adriano entered the house like a storm cloud. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and his jacket draped over his arm. But the moment he looked up and saw her, he stopped. The air in the atrium seemed to vanish.
"You're still awake," he said, his voice a low, rough growl.
"I didn't want to be alone," she replied, her voice soft, projecting a vulnerability she knew would call to his protective instincts.
She walked down the stairs slowly, her eyes locked on his. She could see the conflict in him the "Ice CEO" wanting to maintain distance and the man wanting to close it. When she reached the bottom step, she didn't back away. She stepped into his space, her hand reaching out to rest against his chest.
"The day was so long without any news," she whispered, her fingers tracing the silk of his tie. "Did you fix it? The photos? The scandal?"
Adriano's breath hitched. He dropped his jacket to the floor, his hands finding her waist. His grip was firm, possessive. "The media is silenced. Lucia is... being handled. But you, Élise... you look different tonight."
"I realized that fighting you is exhausting," she lied, her eyelashes fluttering as she looked up at him. "And you were right. I'm not safe out there. Pedro... he scares me now. I feel like this is the only place I can breathe."
It was a masterpiece of a lie. Adriano's expression softened, a rare, heated glow appearing in his eyes. He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. "I told you. I will keep the world away from you."
"But I feel so trapped here, Adriano," she murmured, her lips inches from his. "Take me back to the city tonight. Just for dinner. Somewhere private. I need to see the lights, to feel like I'm not just a secret you've hidden in the woods."
Adriano's hands tightened on her hips. He wanted to say no. He knew the risks. But the way she was looking at him with a hunger that mirrored his own was a lure he couldn't resist. He was a man who conquered empires, but he was currently being conquered by a girl in a charcoal dress.
"One dinner," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "A private club I own near the station. No one enters without my permission."
"Thank you," she breathed, and this time, she was the one who initiated the kiss. It was a calculated strike, designed to make him lose his focus, but as his tongue met hers, the heat became dangerously real. She felt the power he held, the raw, untapped passion of a man who had spent ten years behind a mask of ice.
The drive to Milan was different this time. The silence wasn't cold; it was heavy with anticipation. Adriano drove with one hand on the wheel and the other gripped firmly over hers on the center console. He seemed convinced he had finally won her over.
They arrived at L'Eclisse, a members-only club tucked away in a refurbished industrial building near the central station. It was dark, filled with velvet and the low hum of jazz.
"Stay close to me," Adriano commanded as they stepped out of the car.
"I will," she promised.
As they were seated in a secluded booth in the back, shrouded by heavy silk curtains, Adriano was distracted by a waiter bringing a vintage bottle of wine.
"I'll be right back," Élise whispered. "I just need to... freshen up."
Adriano looked at her, his protective guard momentarily lowered by the wine and the intimacy of the evening. "Two minutes, Élise. My men are at the door, but stay inside."
She nodded and slipped away. But she didn't go to the restroom.
She moved through the shadows of the club toward the service exit she had spotted earlier. Her heart was hammering so loudly she feared it would alert the security. She pushed open the heavy steel door and stepped into the cool night air of a side alley.
Milano Centrale was only two blocks away.
She ran. The charcoal dress made her a shadow in the night. She reached the sprawling, cavernous station, her lungs burning. She followed the signs to the luggage lockers, her fingers fumbling in her small clutch for the key Pedro had sent.
Locker 412.
She found it. The key turned with a heavy, metallic click.
Inside was a single, dusty leather satchel. She pulled it out, her hands shaking. As she opened the flap, a stack of old, singed photographs fell out. They were pictures of a beautiful vineyard the Vigna del Sole but they were half-burned. Beneath them was a legal document: a birth certificate.
Élise gasped, the world spinning around her.
The birth certificate wasn't for Adriano or Pedro. It was for a third child. A sister. A sister whose name had been erased from every Moretti record.
"You shouldn't have come here, Élise."
She whirled around. Standing in the shadows of the locker aisle was Pedro. He wasn't smiling this time. He looked haunted, the flickering fluorescent lights of the station making his eyes look like empty pits.
"Who is she?" Élise whispered, holding up the singed photo. "Who is the girl in the vineyard?"
"The reason Adriano turned to ice," Pedro said, stepping into the light. "And the reason I'm going to take everything from him. Including you."
Before she could speak, the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps echoed through the station. Adriano burst around the corner, his face a mask of pure, murderous rage. He saw Pedro. He saw the satchel in Élise's hand.
The "Ice CEO" was gone. In his place was a man who looked ready to kill.
"Élise," Adriano roared, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "Drop the bag and get behind me. Now!"
She stood between them, the key to a decade of lies clutched in her hand. The war had just moved from the boardroom to the streets, and she was the only one holding the truth.