Chapter 1
1392 Words
Elena’s POV
“Holy crap.” Chloe whispered, pressing her face against the car window as we sped down a long stretch of countryside road. “Is this even real? Look at that vineyard—oh my God, are those olive trees? Elena, tell me those are olive trees.”
“They’re olive trees.” I said with a laugh.
“Actual olive trees.” She sighed. “America could never.”
"America also doesn’t have drivers in tuxedos picking us up from airports.” Harper said without even glancing up from her phone.
“That too.” Chloe added cheerfully. “His Majesty, Mr. Russo, really went full royal welcome for us.”
“Don’t call him that.” I said, adjusting my sunglasses. “He’s not a king.”
“You say that, but you’ve been mysteriously vague about what he does for a living. So forgive me if I imagine him running a secret empire.” Chloe said with a smirk.
“Yeah.” Harper chimed in. “I’ve seen fewer guards outside embassies than the ones at your gate last time we FaceTimed.”
“They’re… private security.” I said lightly, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. “He owns a lot of businesses. He needs protection.”
“Right.” Harper murmured. “From…?”
“From other businesses.” I said quickly. “Can we not start a conspiracy theory before we even get there?”
“Fine. I’ll save it for dinner.” Chloe grinned and we all laughed after that.
I hadn’t seen Papa in over three years. Between school in the States and his so-called “work,” our visits had been quick, mostly over video calls. He’d insisted I spend the summer home, promising a real family holiday — something I hadn’t had in ages.
And honestly? I’d missed him.
I glanced at my two best friends and smiled, thinking about how much we all had been through together.
“I’m glad you both came with me.” I said.
“Are you kidding?” Chloe said dramatically. “Three months of luxury Italian living with my bestie? You’d have to pry me off the plane to stop me.”
“Same.” Harper said. “Though I’m mostly here for the pasta. And to make sure you don’t call your ex.”
“Wow.” I muttered. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Oh, don’t even.” Chloe said, tossing her blonde curls. “Last time you said you were over Mason, we found you in bed watching his old football highlights with a box of tissues.”
“Those tissues were for my allergies!”
“Sure...” Harper hummed. “And my degree’s in underwater basket weaving.”
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help smiling.
“Okay, fine. I was pathetic. But this summer, I’m officially detoxing from all things Mason. No texts. No calls. And no stalking his socials.”
“Good.” Chloe said, nodding approvingly. “We are reborn women. The heartbreak era is over.”
“Praise be.” Harper murmured.
“Besides,” Chloe added slyly, “new country means new men and new mistakes.”
“You’re something else.” I said, shaking my head.
“I'm just being honest.” She said. “And before you start pretending you’re immune, let’s not forget your dad’s driver is literally dressed like James Bond.”
“He’s just professional.” I said.
“Professional and hot.” Harper noted, glancing toward the front seat. “That’s an important distinction.”
The driver, bless him, remained stoically unfazed.
The car turned off the highway after that and began climbing a winding road lined with tall cypress trees. Beyond them stretched vineyards, marble statues, and fountains that caught the sunlight like shards of gold. Then, at the top of a hill, our estate appeared — Villa Russo.
It was exactly as I remembered and yet somehow even grander. A palatial estate framed by blooming gardens and stone balconies. The kind of place that could easily host a royal wedding or even a political coup.
Chloe’s mouth fell open as she saw the beauty of it.
“I take back everything I’ve ever said about you exaggerating. This isn’t a house, Elena. This is a museum of power.”
“I suddenly feel underdressed.” Harper said, looking down at her jeans. “Do they even allow denim past the gates?”
“Oh, stop.” I said, though my heart swelled at the sight. “It’s still home.”
“Your ‘home’ has marble lions at the door,” Chloe whispered. “Actual lions.”
“Papa likes dramatic entrances.”
“That’s one word for it.” Harper murmured.
The car slowed to a stop in front of the grand staircase. The heavy front doors opened almost instantly, and there he was — Don Vittorio Russo.
My father.
He hadn’t changed much. He looked both powerful and warm — the kind of man who could charm a crowd and silence a room in equal measure.
And then his face softened as he spotted me.
“Elena!” He called, spreading his arms wide.
“Papa!”
I rushed toward him, laughing as he caught me in a hug. He squeezed me tight, then pulled back to look at me the way he always did.
“Let me look at you.” He said, smiling. “My beautiful girl. You’ve grown up.”
“You say that every time I visit.”
“And every time, it’s true.”
He cupped my cheek briefly, eyes gleaming.
“America has treated you well?” He asked.
“Depends on the day.” I said, grinning. “Mostly it’s been caffeine, deadlines, and heartbreak.”
“Heartbreak?” He repeated, frowning. “Do I need to send someone a message?”
“Papa!” I gasped. “No messages! It was just a breakup.”
Chloe snorted.
“Just a breakup, she says, after two months of daily crying—ow!” She winced as I elbowed her and Papa laughed, clearly entertained.
“Ah, so you must be Chloe.”
“Yes, sir. The loud one.” Harper said quickly, earning a glare from Chloe.
“And you’re Harper.” Papa said, shaking her hand. “The quiet one who sees everything.”
“Guilty.” Harper replied smoothly.
He chuckled, genuinely pleased.
“Welcome, both of you. My home is your home. I’ve had rooms prepared for you next to Elena’s.”
“That’s so kind of you.” Harper said.
“Thank you, Mr. Russo.” Chloe added with an exaggerated grin. “We’re so excited to be here.”
Papa smiled, then turned back to me.
“There’s someone I’d like you to meet before you go inside.” He said.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
He gestured, and from the large oak doorway emerged a man.
“Luca,” my father said. “Come.”
The man approached silently, yet confidently. I tried not to stare, but honestly, how was anyone supposed to ignore that?
“Elena,” Papa said, “this is Luca Moretti — my personal bodyguard.”
Bodyguard.
That explained a lot.
“He’s been with me for years.” Papa continued. “And he’ll be responsible for your safety while you’re here. Consider him your personal guard for the duration of your stay.”
“My what now?”
“Your guard.” Papa repeated simply. “You know how I worry.”
“Papa, I don’t need a guard. I need a gelato and maybe a tan.”
“Humor me.” He smiled, but there was no budging his tone.
“Fine." I sighed, giving up. "But only if he agrees to let me breathe on my own.”
"You’ll find Luca to be very… efficient.” Papa chuckled, clearly amused.
“Efficient.” Harper whispered to Chloe. “That’s code for scary.”
“I heard that.” I whispered back.
Then Luca stopped a few feet away and inclined his head slightly. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and super calm.
“Miss Russo.” He said. “Pleased to meet you, madam.”
- Writer
