Rosa didn’t know that the hotel’s internet service had already been blocked on all devices. No one could upload the videos they had taken on any site or send them to anyone.
Soon after, the guards themselves respectfully collected everyone’s phones. Every person present was an elite guest of the hotel, but they all knew whose order this was—and that it belonged to Luciano Mancini. No one dared to oppose. The guards checked each phone carefully, deleting any photos or videos of their boss.
“Mr. Mancini, I’m sure you have a busy day ahead, so I should go,” Rosa said, choosing her words carefully, deliberately trying to put some distance between them.
Luciano’s mood turned sour at her indifference—the absence of warmth, the way she kept trying to slip away from him as if his touch repulsed
