Dante
The notification storm started like gunfire. One buzz, then another, then an avalanche—phones, tablets, even the newsroom alerts Matteo had set to track my name. The office filled with headlines before I’d even poured my first drink.
Romano engagement on the rocks?
Serafina Caruso ditches her ring.
Wedding scandal brews—no ring, no romance?
My jaw tightened with each headline.
Matteo’s laugh cut across the silence. He was leaning back in the chair opposite my desk, boots kicked up, scrolling like this was a comedy reel instead of the start of a war. “Well, s**t,” he muttered, eyes bright with amusement. “The princess didn’t just poke the wolf. She threw meat in front of the cameras and told everyone you’re tame.”
I grabbed the tablet from him. There it was, plastered ac
