We arrive in Rome under the cover of night, but sleep eludes me. My mind is a whirlwind, replaying the almost-kiss with Stefano over and over. I can still feel the ghost of his breath on my skin, his lips a whisper away from mine. The memory sends electricity coursing through my veins, leaving me restless and aching for more.

What if Samuel hadn't interrupted? Would Stefano have finally given in to the magnetic pull between us? The possibility both thrills and terrifies me. I long for him to claim my lips with a passion that would leave me weak-kneed and breathless. Yet, a part of me fears the aftermath. Stefano's pattern of hot and cold behavior haunts me - the way he pulls away after our heated moments, his eyes turning to ice, his words laced with indifference that cuts deeper than any knife.

I toss and turn all night, my sheets tangling around me like a cocoon of uncertainty. Questions swirl in my mind like a tempest - would he push me away again, even after a kiss? Could my heart survive such rejection? The first golden rays of dawn creep through the curtains before I finally admit defeat, abandoning any hope of rest.

In the shower, hot water cascades over me, but it does little to wash away my anxiety. I'm back in Rome - the city where it all happened. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Part of me had been eager to return to Italy, but not Rome. Yet maybe this is exactly what I need - to face my demons head-on.

I have to see her to know if she's still alive after all these years. The thought makes my heart race, a staccato beat against my ribs. I step out of the steam-filled bathroom, wiping condensation from the mirror to stare at my reflection. My eyes are wide, a mix of determination and fear swirling in their depths.

"You can do this, Andrea," I whisper, trying to inject confidence into my voice. "You're stronger than you think." The words feel hollow, easier said than done. The mere mention of Rome had nearly triggered a panic attack - and now I'm contemplating visiting the very place where my world shattered five years ago.

I exhale slowly, squaring my shoulders. "I can fucking do this," I say with more conviction, willing myself to believe it. I dress quickly, my movements sharp and purposeful, before grabbing my purse and heading out to meet Stefano.

He's waiting in our shared hotel living room - another surprise from a man who seems to delight in keeping me off-balance. "Ready?" he asks, rising from the couch. I'd told him over breakfast about my desire to shop for Aurora's birthday gift, using it as a cover for my true intentions.

We pull into the mall parking lot, the sleek car gliding to a stop. As I reach for the door handle, my fingers trembling slightly with anticipation, Stefano's warm hand suddenly grips mine. The unexpected touch sends a jolt through my body, causing me to turn and face him. His intense gaze locks onto mine, and I can see a mix of concern and frustration swirling in his dark eyes.

"Before you go, I want to ask you something," he says, his voice low and serious. The air in the car feels thick with tension.

"What?" I question, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it. A wave of anxiety washes over me as I silently pray he hasn't somehow uncovered my carefully laid plans.

Stefano's grip on my hand tightens slightly as he leans in closer. "Samuel told me you were crying when he found you. What happened? Why were you crying?" His eyes search mine, probing for answers.

I breathe an internal sigh of relief, thankful that this is what he's curious about and not my secret intentions. "I wasn't crying," I tell him, trying to keep my voice steady despite the lie.

He doesn't buy it. "Maybe you weren't crying right then, but you were earlier. Why?" He continues, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on the scar on my hand. I meet his gaze, unsure whether to open up. My issues with my dad have pushed away many men before, so I choose to keep it to myself, afraid it will push him away like it has others.

"Andrea, I asked you a fucking question," Stefano says, his patience wearing thin. He squeezes my hand, the pressure bringing me sharply back to the present.

"Allergies," I blurt out, grasping at the first excuse that comes to mind.

"Allergies?" he repeats, his tone dripping with disbelief.

"Yeah," I nod, desperately hoping he'll drop the subject. The car feels smaller suddenly, claustrophobic with the weight of my secrets.

Stefano releases a deep sigh, his eyes never leaving mine. The disappointment in his gaze is palpable. "If you won't tell me, I'll fucking find out another way," he says, finally letting go of my hand. The loss of contact leaves me feeling oddly bereft. "See you later," he adds, turning away from me.

I bite my bottom lip, a nervous habit I've never been able to shake. The taste of copper fills my mouth as I realize I've bitten too hard. Stefano's annoyance with me is clear; it stings more than I care to admit. I've refused to open up to him time and time again, and I can sense his patience wearing thin. It's not easy for me to share, to be vulnerable. Those who know the chaos of my life understand this, but maybe it's time for a change.

"I got a call from my father before Samuel found me," I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. Without waiting for his reaction, I quickly step out of the car, my heart racing. I stand there, waiting for him to follow, to press me for more details. But he doesn't. Instead, to my shock and growing panic, Samuel emerges from the passenger seat. The car pulls away, leaving me standing there with Samuel, my carefully laid plans crumbling around me. Panic rises in my chest - how can I possibly ditch him now and go where I truly need to?

I face Samuel, forcing a smile that feels brittle on my lips. His easy grin in return only heightens my anxiety, and I find myself biting my lower lip. What am I going to do?

Swallowing my frustration, I decide to actually shop for now, hoping inspiration for an escape plan will strike. After all, I need something for Aurora's party. The thought of my best friend's 23rd birthday celebration brings a genuine smile to my face - we're only a month apart in age. Yet, sometimes, it feels like we're worlds apart in experience.

A familiar figure catches my eye outside as I browse through racks of dresses. My heart skips a beat as I recognize him - it can't be, can it?

"Ivan!" I call out, waving as I hurry towards him, momentarily forgetting about Samuel trailing behind me.

Ivan's eyes widen in surprise as he spots me. "Andrea? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," I reply, a warmth spreading through me at the sight of his friendly face.

"I'm in town checking out how my restaurant is doing," Ivan says, gesturing towards a nearby stall. My eyes are drawn to the familiar name, and a jolt of recognition courses through me. It bears the same name as the one where we had dinner in California. "And you?" he prompts.

"Here for a friend's birthday," I say, the half-truth tasting sour on my tongue. I can't bring myself to reveal the real reason - running from the suffocating presence of my father back home.

"Is that what you're shopping for right now?" Ivan asks, his eyes crinkling with genuine interest as he gestures towards my bags. I nod.

"That's nice," he says warmly. Then, with a hint of concern in his voice, he asks, "Have you eaten?"

The question catches me off guard, and I realize with a pang of guilt that I'd completely forgotten about my promise to Stefano that I would get something to eat in the mall, but I didn't. "No, I haven't," I admit, my stomach choosing that moment to growl softly.

Ivan's face lights up. "Great! We just added new dishes to our menu. I'd love your input on them." He gestures towards his restaurant.

"Sure, why not?" I say, falling into step beside Ivan.

As we approach the entrance, chaos erupts behind us. A child's excited shriek pierces the air, followed by a mother's frantic calls. I turn, my heart leaping into my throat as I see a young girl barreling towards me.

Before I can react, strong arms encircle me, pulling me against a solid chest. Ivan's cologne envelops me, a heady mix of citrus and spice. I look up at him, my eyes wide with surprise. My hand rests against his chest, and I feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm. It's racing, and I find myself wondering why.

"I'm so sorry," the woman apologizes, clutching her child close.

I tear my gaze away from Ivan, offering the mother a reassuring smile. "It's fine. She didn't hit me, so it's okay."

"Thank you for understanding," the mom replies, pulling her child along as they walk away.

As they leave, Ivan's grip on me loosens but doesn't fully release. "Are you really okay?" he asks, his face etched with concern.

I stare at him, confused by his intensity. "I'm fine," I assure him, trying to step back. "You saved me before she could knock into me."

This time, he lets me move away but keeps hold of my hand. His eyes, usually so warm and friendly, darken as he glares at the retreating child. "Thank God she didn't," he mutters.

I shake my head at his unexpectedly protective response, a mix of amusement and something deeper stirring within me. "Let's go," Ivan says, his voice softening as he gently tugs me towards the restaurant.

We take our seats at the first available table, the polished wood gleaming under the soft lighting of the restaurant. The waiter, a young man with an eager smile, rushes over immediately, his shoes squeaking slightly on the tiled floor. Ivan orders the new dishes his chef has recently added to the menu, and as we wait for our food, the bustling sounds of the restaurant fade into the background. Ivan breaks the comfortable silence between us.

"So, tell me what's been going on in your life lately," he asks, leaning back in his chair with a casual grace. His dark eyes, intense and focused, seem to bore into my very soul, making me feel exposed.

"Not much," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. I try to avoid his penetrating gaze, suddenly finding the intricate pattern on the tablecloth fascinating.

"Really? You're not going to tell me anything even though we haven't seen each other in weeks?" he presses, his voice a mixture of curiosity and concern. The weight of his attention is almost palpable, and I release a deep sigh, my shoulders sagging slightly. I guess it won't hurt to tell him some of the shit swirling in my life.

"So, I have this friend who likes this guy," I begin hesitantly, my fingers nervously tracing the rim of my water glass. "She thinks he likes her too, but he draws away each time they pull close. But then again, he does stuff that just makes her like him even more." The words tumble out, and I can feel the frustration in my voice from the emotional turmoil Stefano causes me as I am talking about myself and not a friend.

"He's a coward who is afraid to confront his feelings for your friend," Ivan states matter-of-factly, his brow furrowing slightly.

"That's the same thing I told her," I agree.

"I would never do such a thing," Ivan says, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur. He locks eyes with me, and a shiver runs down my spine. It doesn't feel good like it does with Stefano. I think it's just my body's instinctive response to his piercing gaze.

"Hmm, really?" I say, trying to keep my voice steady as I take a big sip of my drink that the waiter has just brought. The cool liquid is a welcome distraction from the sudden tension in the air.

"I would let her know how I feel about her and make sure everyone also did," he says, staring at me with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller. I sip more, the ice clinking against the glass. "I would let her know she's the woman of my greatest desire and fantasies," he continues, his voice husky. Why did it suddenly become so hot in here? I wonder, sipping my drink faster while fanning myself with my free hand, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

"And what could one of those fantasies of yours be?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me despite the warning bells ringing in my head.

He chuckles a low, rich sound that seems to reverberate through me. "I don't think you want to know," he teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Try me," I say, smiling and feeling both eager and apprehensive to know his fantasies.

"Having her tied naked to my bed, ass up in the air, ready to be fucked whenever I return," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

I spit out my next sip, splashing it all over Ivan's face. The shock of his words hits me like a physical force, and I feel a confusing mix of arousal and guilt wash over me. I wasn't expecting that, but I would be lying if I said hearing him say it didn't make me feel hot. But it also made me feel another type of way like I was cheating on Stefano. The thought makes me pause. Hmm.

"I'm so sorry," I apologize profusely, grabbing a napkin and leaning across the table to wipe his face. I pray that my own face doesn't betray how flustered I am from our conversation, feeling the heat radiating from my cheeks.

"It's okay," he says, chuckling. "That's expected after what I just said." His easy forgiveness only adds to my conflicted feelings.

I just smile in return as the waiter arrives with our food, the aroma of the dishes momentarily distracting me. I take back my seat and dig into my food, hoping he doesn't continue but also secretly wishing he would. I also don't like how I feel like I just cheated on Stefano when I didn't do anything, and worse, we aren't even an item.

As I eat, trying to focus on the flavors of the expertly prepared dish, an idea pops into my head. I quickly ask Ivan for help, grateful for the change of subject.

"What do you need?" he asks, sitting up straighter, his full attention on me once again.

"You see that guy," I say, discreetly gesturing toward Samuel, who sits a few tables down, his watchful eyes scanning the room. Ivan nods, understanding dawning on his face. "He's my bodyguard, but I wish to go somewhere I don't want him to know. Could you help me sneak out through the back of the kitchen?"

"Of course. You don't have to ask twice," Ivan says, a conspiratorial smile playing on his lips.

"Thank you so much," I say, feeling a rush of gratitude and excitement.

"Anything for you, Andrea," he says, staring at me deeply. The intensity of his gaze makes me feel both special and slightly uncomfortable. I just give him a small smile back, unsure how to respond.

Ivan helps me execute my plan, and I'm able to leave the mall without Samuel knowing. Ivan even lends me his car, the keys cool and heavy in my palm. As I slide into the driver's seat, the leather smooth against my skin, I quickly pull out my phone and put the address into Google Maps.

As I drive, my heartpounds in my chest, the rhythm matching the urgency I feel. At one point, Ieven think about turning around and heading back to the mall, the familiar fearcreeping in. But I don't. I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turningwhite. I needed to go back there. If I truly wanted to heal, I needed to visitthat place again. The thought both terrifies and strengthens me as I continuedown the road, the unknown destination looming ahead.