The next day, with a heart heavy with unspoken words and a resolve as unyielding as the California cliffs, I board our private jet to the Golden State. I am determined not to give that man—the one who never wanted me—the satisfaction of seeing me falter. Despite the turmoil churning within me, I am resolute to stand tall. I arrive at the Costanzo Hotel, a bastion of luxury, where I ensure everything is going according to plan before heading to the Costanzo family office in California.

It is a little late in the evening. I am going now because there was a lot. I had to check at the hotel site. After a brief drive, I pay the taxi driver and step into the building.

The office building looms above, its glass facade reflecting the night sky. I push through the revolving doors into a lobby that's quiet at this late hour, save for the soft click of my shoes on the polished stone floor. As I approach, the receptionist looks up from her desk, her face brightening with recognition. I inform her of my appointment, and she nods, directing me to take a seat while she notifies him of my arrival.

"He's expecting you. Right this way, ma'am," she says, coming over to me and leading me towards the elevator. I thank her for her assistance, follow her, and once we arrive, she opens the door without knocking and gestures for me to step in.

I enter, and my heart skips a beat—it is Stefano. I don't know if I am happy; he is the one in town, considering our history together. His office exudes an aura of power and sophistication, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Stefano is seated behind his desk, the surface cluttered with papers and files, a testament to his busy schedule. Despite the chaos, he remains composed, his gaze focused and intense. His sleeves are casually rolled up, revealing the intricate tattoos adorning his arms, a juxtaposition to his formal attire. His suit jacket lies abandoned on the back of his chair. He was the epitome of focused intensity, and I couldn't help but be drawn to it.

"Hello, Stefano," I greet, my voice steady as I approach his desk.

"Sit," he commands, his eyes never leaving his work. Does he know it's me? I hadn't informed the secretary that I was the one visiting, just that a representative from the company was here.

"How are you doing?" I venture, an attempt at casual conversation, before delving into the business at hand.

"When will your brother get here?" he asks abruptly, glancing at his watch, dismissing my attempt at pleasantries. His indifference stings, yet it is a dance I am accustomed to.

"He is not coming. Why are you looking for him?" I ask, my voice laced with a hint of confusion and curiosity.

"I presumed you both were attending the meeting and also in town to oversee the renovations," Stefano replies, his tone matter-of-fact yet carrying an undercurrent of something more.

"And why is that? You don't believe I can handle it on my own?" I can't help but let a touch of offense color my words. It's a challenge, a spark in the dark waiting to ignite.

He pauses, the rustling of papers ceasing as he finally lifts his gaze to meet mine. The moment stretches between us, charged with an electric tension. His beautiful green eyes, usually so guarded, now bore into mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. "I do not believe so, Andrea," he says, emphasizing my name in a way that feels like a caress despite the coolness of his words. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was offended by my assumption about him.

"Then why ask for my brother?" I press, unable to let the matter drop, yet part of me thrills at this dance of words between us.

"I asked for him because he has been in the business longer than you have, and I am familiar with his ways of making deals. I assumed you were here to learn how the business works, and you just arrived before him. It has nothing to do with whether you can do it alone or not," he explains, his voice softening slightly as if trying to bridge the gap that has formed between us.

"Oh," is all I can manage, a small word filled with the weight of my misconceptions. The air between us shifts, becoming less charged and more open.

"Yes," he affirms, a simple acknowledgment that seems to say so much more.

"I'm sorry I assumed that," I admit, my gaze dropping to the floor, a flush of embarrassment warming my cheeks.

"It's fine. Please, let's get down to business," Stefano says, his voice now carrying a note of warmth, inviting me back to the reason we are both here.

"Sure, let's begin. I am here to take in any complaints or additions you would like to make to the renovation of the hotel," I say, finding my footing again as I take a seat in front of him.

"Unfortunately, there are quite a few complaints and additions I would like to make,"

"I am all ears, but do understand, if the additions are above the budget, we will have to increase the price,"

"That won't be a problem," he dismisses the concern with a wave of his hand as if money is no object.

"Alright, what are your complaints?" I ask, steeling myself for his critique.

"My first complaint is I do not want you working on this project."

I freeze, his words hitting me like a sudden gust of wind. "I... I'm sorry, what?" I stammer, struggling to grasp the unexpected revelation. While I had braced myself for challenges with this project, I never anticipated Stefano's animosity toward me. But then again, I shouldn't be surprised; the man despises me.

"I don't want you working on this project," he repeats casually, as if he's simply expressing a preference for not liking broccoli.

"Why is that?" I ask, my arms crossing over my chest in a protective gesture while a mix of anger and hurt simmers beneath the surface. Stefano's eyes briefly flicker to my arms before locking with mine again, a spark of something unreadable in his gaze.

"Because I just...don't," he falters, and it's clear that his usual composure is rattled.

"Just because you don't?" I challenge my eyebrow arching, a silent demand for a better explanation.

He nods, leaning back into his chair.

"You can't be serious," I press, disbelief lacing my words.

"Do I look like I'm playing?" he retorts, his expression hardening slightly.

"No, but I'm not going anywhere, Stefano, and maybe if you had a reasonable reason, I would have considered it," I stand my ground, refusing to be dismissed so easily.

"Is that so?" he asks, his eyes locking with mine, the air between us charged with an unspoken challenge.

"Yes," I reply, holding his gaze, the intensity between us building like a storm on the horizon.

A smirk slowly spreads across his face. "No problem," he says, rising from his seat and making his way toward the door. "We can continue our meeting tomorrow. It's already late now, so goodbye."

I stand, grab my purse, and walk toward the exit, "See you tomorrow," I say, stepping past him, but he catches my hand, halting my escape. His face comes dangerously close to mine, his breath a whisper against my ear. The scent of his cologne envelops me, a familiar fragrance that sends my senses into a tailspin.

"Remember, I told you I didn't want you here by the time the week is over," he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with a challenge that sends a shiver down my spine.

He releases my hand, and I don't hesitate to leave, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. As I step out of his office, I can't help but fan myself, wondering why my body is reacting so fiercely to our confrontation.

***

The next day, I start my day late, thanks to relentless cramps that kept me up all night. Now, I'm running behind schedule for my meeting with Stefano. I hastily get ready and flag down a cab to Stefano's office. Upon arrival, I realize I'm already five minutes late. Without wasting another moment, I hurry to the meeting room. The atmosphere in the meeting room is thick with tension as I enter.

"I am so sorry I am late," I apologize, my words slicing through the silence as I make my way to the chair beside Stefano, but we are not alone. The architect and engineer working on the renovation are also present and ready to discuss the changes Stefano wants to implement.

"I am not surprised; please sit down; let's start the meeting," Stefano says, his voice dripping with a dismissive coolness that sends a clear message of disapproval.

"Why are you not surprised?" I ask, taken aback by his brusque response, feeling a sting of resentment at his assumption.

"I am not surprised because you look like someone who doesn't keep to time," he retorts, his words sharp and cutting.

"Excuse me, I am late to our second meeting, and automatically, I am someone who doesn't keep to time. I have a valid reason for being late today," I say, my voice rising slightly, anger simmering just below the surface. My period cramps are not something I wish to discuss in this room, but his blatant disregard for any possible legitimate reason for my delay fuels my anger.

"I don't care what your reason is; either you are late or on time. Now, sit your ass down so that we can start the meeting," he commands, his voice raising in frustration, echoing the hostility that has taken root in the room.

"Just because you don't know why I am late doesn't mean my reason is not valid," I counter, my frustration mounting.

"As I said, I do not care to know; sit fucking ass down so that we can start," he grits out, his jaw clenched tightly.

I'm about to reply to him when I hear someone clear their throat, and suddenly, I remember that we're not alone in the room. I glance around and realize all eyes are on us, witnesses to our confrontation. Reluctantly, I take my seat, not wanting to give the impression that I am yielding to his command but recognizing the need to proceed with the meeting. The embarrassment of being reprimanded in front of my colleagues burns within me, but I resolve to address it later. For now, the meeting must go on.

An hour later, the meeting draws to a close, and I rise from my seat, eager to stretch my legs after the lengthy discussion. But before I can fully straighten up, Stefano's hand lands firmly on my shoulder, pushing me back down into my chair. I shoot him a puzzled glance, my brow furrowing in confusion. Why on earth would he do that?

I attempt to stand once more, but his grip tightens, preventing me from moving. Frustration bubbles up within me, but before I can voice my protest, he silences me with a gesture, his finger pressed against his lips as he pulls out his phone, diving into a conversation with someone on the other end.

"I will send you a picture. Get me something similar immediately, and the other items I add in the text," he commands, then abruptly ends the call. Without warning, he snaps a picture of my skirt and sends it off.

"Why did you do that?" I press, my voice tinged with annoyance as I shoot him a puzzled look.

"What's your size?" he asks, bypassing my question entirely.

"Medium," I reply, still trying to piece together his actions.

Finally, he looks up from his phone, meeting my gaze with an unreadable expression. "She will bring it up shortly," he informs me, his tone cryptic.

"But for now, Get up," he commands abruptly. I lift a questioning brow, silently urging him to explain himself.

"Just get up, Andrea," he insists, his voice carrying a hint of impatience. With a resigned sigh, I comply, pushing back my chair and rising to my feet. Stefano could be so difficult at times. Why won't he just tell me what's going on?

In a swift motion, he removes his suit jacket. I'm caught off guard when he steps in close, his presence suddenly looming over me. My breath catches in my throat as his proximity overwhelms me, his cologne enveloping me in its familiar scent. I swallow hard, feeling a rush of nervous energy coursing through me. Then, with gentle precision, he wraps the jacket around my waist. It's then that I realize what's going on. Panic sets in as I realize I must have stained myself.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath, my heart sinking at the realization of what would have happened if Stefano didn't see it and someone else did.

"Let's go," Stefano says, his hand wrapping around mine as he leads the way out of the meeting room and toward his office. Despite my earlier confusion and frustration, a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Stefano's actions are always so unpredictable—just when I think I have him figured out, he surprises me with gestures like this.

As we walk side by side, his hand warm in mine, I can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest. Despite his often gruff demeanor and apparent disdain for me, there's something undeniably alluring about Stefano. His complexity, his contradictions—it's like trying to solve a puzzle with pieces that never quite fit together, and yet, I find myself drawn to him more and more with each passing day.

It's frustratingly confusing, but at the same time, it's exhilarating. And as we make our way to his office, I can't shake the feeling that there's so much more to Stefano than meets the eye. And I'm determined to uncover every hidden layer.