Sofia
I watched Diego pace the length of his office, his movements jagged and frantic. He looked pathetic.
The powerful, commanding man I’d first been drawn to was fraying at the edges, replaced by a man who looked like he was drowning in his own shadow.
“Did you see the numbers, Sofia?” he snapped, gesturing vaguely toward his laptop. “Bella’s name is everywhere. My PR team is doing what they can to link us, but the narrative is shifting. People are starting to ask why she’s elsewhere. Why she isn’t at the gala events with me.”
I leaned back in the leather chair, crossing my legs slowly. I had spent a small fortune on my outfit today—a cream silk dress that draped perfectly over my frame—but the weight in my stomach had nothing to do with the fabric.
“Diego, stop talking about the dr
