ANDREA

The car pulls up to the house - not just any house, but a gang hideout. Samuel dashes inside before I can even question what we're doing here. Hesitantly, I step out of the car, my heart pounding with a mixture of curiosity and dread. As I slowly make my way inside, my eyes widen in shock at the sight before me. Injured men lie scattered throughout the room, their faces contorted in pain. With a sinking feeling, I realize these must be Stefano's men. Though I don't know the details, something terrible must have happened to them and, worse, to him.

My lips part, ready to ask someone about Stefano's whereabouts, when Samuel's voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Right this way, ma'am," he says, pointing to a door at the end of the small hallway. I rush over, my heart racing with fear and worry, silently praying that nothing serious has happened to Stefano. Without bothering to knock, I barge into the room, my breath catching in my throat.

"Who the fu..." Stefano's curse dies on his lips as his eyes meet mine. Tears spring to my eyes at the sight of his injuries, and a wave of emotions crashes over me - relief at seeing him alive and anguish at his pain. "Andrea, what are you doing here?" he asks, his voice laced with shock and concern as he winces from the pain of a woman wrapping a bandage around his stomach. I can only imagine the agony he must be in, with broken ribs and cuts marring his handsome face.

I let out a shaky breath, my heart twisting in my chest as I struggle to make sense of the cruel irony fate has thrust upon me. The universe, it seems, has a sick sense of humor. Here I am, desperately trying to build walls around my heart, to distance myself from Stefano and all the complications he brings, and this happens to him. How the hell am I going to do that?

"Stefano," I sob, tears streaming down my face.

"Luce del Sole," Sunshine. He whispers, using the endearment that never fails to make my heart skip a beat. "Please, no tears. I'm fine."

But he's not fine, and we both know it. As I walk closer to his bedside, the extent of his injuries becomes even clearer, causing more tears to fall. "You're not fine," I cry out, my heart breaking at the sight of him so battered and bruised.

Stefano asks the woman to give us a moment alone, and as she steps out, I find myself drawn to him, needing to be close, to touch him, to reassure myself that he's really here.

"What happened?" I ask, sniffling as I notice the cuts on his forehead that need cleaning. Needing a distraction from the large bandage around his ribs, I decide to tend to his wounds myself.

I lean in close, my face a breath away from his. I can feel the warmth of his exhales ghosting across my neck, raising delicious goosebumps along my skin that I determinedly ignore. He begins to tell me of his plans for tonight and how he was attacked as I clean his cuts.

His voice, a gravelly whisper, sends shivers down my spine. "It was supposed to be a simple operation," he says, his tone laced with frustration and simmering anger. "But someone knew I was coming."

I dab antiseptic on a particularly nasty gash, and he flinches, his breath hitching. "Sorry," I whisper. "They must have known you were tailing him."

"Most likely, and I don't know if it's David that tipped them off," he says, eyes flashing with a dangerous mix of suspicion and rage, "but if it's not him, I definitely have a rat in my house." The last words come out as a low growl, dripping with the promise of retribution.

"I see," I reply, keeping the conversation going as it also helps distract him from the pain. My fingers work deftly, cleaning and bandaging his wounds. "And what's your next move?"

Stefano's eyes narrow, a calculating look crossing his face. "I'll set a trap," he says, his voice low and determined. "Let's pray the rat falls for it."

I nod silently, my fingers trembling slightly as I wrap the bandage around his head. The white gauze is a stark contrast to the angry red of his wound and the dark, matted blood in his hair. The metallic scent of blood fills my nostrils, making my stomach churn.

As I work, I can feel the weight of Stefano's gaze on me. It's like a physical touch, sending shivers down my spine and making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Unable to resist any longer, I drop my eyes to meet his.

The intensity I find there steals my breath away. His eyes, usually so guarded, now burn with a complex mix of emotions –anger and something else, something softer.

"What?" I ask, lifting a brow in an attempt at nonchalance, even as my heart races in my chest. The word comes out more breathless than I intended, betraying the effect his proximity has on me.

The air between us feels charged, electric with unspoken words and suppressed feelings. I'm acutely aware of every point where our bodies touch, of the warmth of his breath on my skin.

"I'm just shocked you still care about me," he admits, his gaze boring into mine.

"It's not like I have a choice," I reply, more to my traitorous heart than to him, rolling my eyes in a feeble attempt to mask my true feelings.

As I try to move away, Stefano pulls me back, his touch igniting a fire within me. "You know I care about you too, right?" he says, and for a moment, my heart soars with joy - until he adds, "You're Aurora's best friend. She'll kill me if anything happens to you."

His words are like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the warmth that had begun to spread through my chest. Anger flares within me, and I can't help but lash out. "And that's why you kissed me like a starved dog last night?" I counter the hurt and frustration from the morning rushing back.

Stefano swallows hard, his grip on my arm loosening.

"That's what I thought. Pussy!" I spit the insult, turning away, but he snags my arm again. "What?" I exhale, annoyed and emotionally drained.

"You love to push my buttons, don't you, Luce del Sole?" he says, using that endearment again. This time, it only serves to fuel my irritation, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Fucking roll your eyes at me, and I'll show you how much of a fucking pussy I am," he growls, rising to his feet and towering over me. His words, his proximity, the heat radiating from his body - it all combines to stoke the fire within me, and I can't resist the urge to provoke him further[.

Slowly, deliberately, I roll my eyes, taking my time, relishing the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken with barely restrained desire. "Pu...ssy," I breathe, my breath ghosting over his tattooed chest.

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, and I know I've pushed him to the brink. "Fuck it," he curses under his breath, and then his lips are a hairsbreadth away from mine.

My eyes flutter closed, anticipation thrumming through my veins as I wait for the press of his lips against mine. Finally, after all this time, I'm about to get what I've been craving. But just as I feel the barest whisper of his mouth on mine, the door bursts open, and Samuel stands there, eyes wide with shock and apology.

"Forgive me for barging in, sir, but Peter just called me since he can't reach you," Samuel says, hurrying over to hand Stefano his phone.

Stefano's eyes widen, and he snatches the phone from Samuel's grasp, pressing it to his ear. I stand there, confused and frustrated, wondering what could be so important about this call from Peter.

After listening intently for a moment, Stefano finally speaks. "Text it to Samuel. I'll call you with my new line once I get it." He hangs up abruptly and turns to face Samuel, his expression grave.

"Get Jack on the phone. He should have the plane ready in an hour," Stefano orders, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the gang house and into the car out front.

"Stefano, what's going on?" I ask as he ushers me into the back seat.

"Someone who could finally let me know if the Kazan gang is behind the attacks has been found," he explains, sliding in beside me.

"Where?" I inquire as Samuel takes the driver's seat, and we pull out of the front yard.

"In Italy," Stefano replies, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

"That's great news," I say, relief washing over me at the thought of finally getting some answers.

"Yeah, that's why I need to leave immediately, but I'll drop you off at home before I fly to Italy."

My heart plummets, panic rising in my throat. "No!" I blurt out, the words sharp and desperate. "I want to come with you. I'm part of this as much as you are." Home is the last place I want to be right now.

Stefano turns to face me, his green eyes boring into mine. "Andrea..." he begins, his tone a mixture of concern and exasperation.

I cut him off, words tumbling out in a rush. "Aurora's birthday is even in a few weeks. I was going to fly over tomorrow to help her prepare, so I might as well just go today." My voice trembles slightly, betraying the emotions roiling beneath the surface.

He sighs deeply, and for a moment, I fear he'll refuse. But then, he relents. "Alright," he says, and I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.

"Thank you," I whisper, my heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

We make a quick stop at the apartment and my hotel to gather our things before heading to the airport to catch our flight to Italy. As we settle into our seats, a sudden realization hits me, and I turn to Stefano. "Where exactly in Italy are we going?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Rome," he replies, his tone casual, as if the word holds no significance.

But for me, it's as if the world has tilted on its axis. My eyes widen in terror, and my mind goes blank, the word "Rome" echoing in my head like a haunting refrain. Memories I've tried so hard to suppress come rushing back, threatening to drown me in a sea of pain and despair.

Here's a revised version incorporating the suggestions for expanding Andrea's emotional reaction to learning they're going to Rome:

We make a quick stop at the apartment and my hotel to gather our things before heading to the airport to catch our flight to Italy. As we settle into the car, a sudden realization hits me, and I turn to Stefano. "Where exactly in Italy are we going?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Rome," he replies, his tone casual, as if the word holds no significance.

But for me, it's as if the world has tilted on its axis. My eyes widen in terror, and my mind goes blank, the word "Rome" echoing in my head like a haunting refrain. Memories I've tried so hard to suppress come rushing back, threatening to drown me in a sea of pain and despair.

The bustling city around us fades away, replaced by flashes of cobblestone streets, ancient ruins, and a face I've struggled to forget. My heart races, pounding so hard I fear Stefano might hear it. My palms grow clammy against the leather seat, and I grip the edge tightly, knuckles turning white as I try to anchor myself to the present.

"We're going to Rome?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper, each word feeling like lead on my tongue. The taste of bile rises in my throat, and I swallow hard, fighting against the wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me.

"Yes... Andrea, is everything alright?" Stefano asks concern etched into his features as he glances away from the road to look at me.

I force myself to nod slowly, praying that the sweat beading on my forehead doesn't betray the depth of my turmoil. My mind races, searching for an excuse, an explanation, anything to mask the panic that's threatening to consume me. But how can I explain a past I've never spoken of, a wound so deep it's become a part of me?

"I'm fine," I lie, the words feeling hollow even to my own ears. "Just... unexpected, that's all. I didn't think we'd be going to Rome."

Stefano's eyes narrow slightly, and I can see the questions forming behind them. But he doesn't press, instead reaching out to gently squeeze my hand. "If there's anything you need to tell me, Andrea, I'm here to listen."

I force a smile, hoping it doesn't look as brittle as it feels. "Thank you, Stefano. I'm okay, really. Just surprised."

As I turn to look out the window, watching the city streets blur past, I can't shake the feeling that I'm driving straight into the heart of my nightmares. Rome, the eternal city, holds eternal pain for me – and I'm not sure I'm ready to face it.

Seeking comfort, I reach for his hand, twining our fingers together and squeezing gently. As his piercing green eyes meet mine, I see the concern and affection swirling in their depths, and for a moment, I allow myself to get lost in his gaze, the warmth of his touch chasing away the chill of my haunting past.

But even as I cling to the safety of the present, I know that the ghosts of Rome are waiting for me, ready to drag me back into the darkness I've fought so hard to escape. And as the plane takes off, I can only pray that Stefano's presence will be enough to keep me from drowning in the memories I've tried so desperately to forget.