The Price Of His Desire

The Secret

We got back on the flight the next day. Alfonso told me he had sent Matteo to rehab so he could get help with his addiction. The way he talked about Matteo this time was different. Softer. Protective. It made me curious about their relationship. I wanted to know who Matteo’s parents were because Alfonso had never mentioned them, and I had never seen them at the house.

“His dad died in a plane crash,” he said quietly beside me in the car as we headed home. “It happened about two years ago.”

I realized their family had gone through far more than I knew. Maybe that was why Matteo had spiraled. He had lost so much control of his life that he turned to drugs and reckless behavior, thinking it would help him forget everything he was feeling.

He was still young and growing. I hoped he would get the right help and guidance, maybe from Alfonso or the other relatives. Aria had never been the right person for him. She cared about him because of his money, not who he truly was.

I wanted to ask more questions about his family, but I held myself back. Alfonso was unpredictable when it came to personal matters, and I did not want the peace we had built in the past two days to shatter. I could not handle another emotional storm.

My mind drifted back to the plane crash he mentioned. It reminded me of what Sarah had told me about Georgina. She had also died in a plane crash two years ago. That meant it was the same accident.

“So the crash,” I began softly. He glanced at me, calm and unreadable. When he did not stop me, I continued. “Was it just his dad? What about his mother?”

He hummed, his gaze shifting away.

“There were others. I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. I nodded quickly, not wanting to push.

After a moment of silence, he added quietly, “He never met his mother. She died during labor.”

I reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, trying to reassure him that Matteo was going to be fine. The softness in his voice struck me. He never spoke about his late father with that care. There was more to his family than I knew. Much more.

Part of me wished he would open up about Georgina too, even though I knew she had been his first love and the loss had shattered him. Maybe one day he would trust me enough to speak about her. Hopefully.

We got back home around eight that night. The house was too quiet. Lucia was nowhere in sight. I let out a sigh of relief. I did not want to see her.

Alfonso and I walked into our room. The guards had already placed our bags inside. He looked exhausted, like he had been thinking too much. He was not his usual self. Something was wrong, but I could not tell what.

He went into the bathroom to take a shower. I undressed into a robe, preparing for mine. He joined me shortly in the closet, a towel hanging low around his waist. My eyes traced over his body from his defined abs down to that deep, low V. My breath hitched. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

He walked toward me with a smirk tugging at his lips. He smelled incredible. He held my hands, and when I looked into his eyes, I sensed it again. He was bothered.

His face came closer, leaning in to initiate a kiss. It did not last long because we both laughed.

“Let me take you out tomorrow night,” he whispered. I smiled.

“Is it a date?” I asked, curious.

“However you want to call it,” he replied. I raised a brow, then nodded.

He stepped back and told me to go ahead while he rifled through his clothes.

I spent some time in the shower. When I came back, I found Alfonso asleep on the couch, a book resting on his chest. I lay down on the bed, scrolling through my phone, but my attention kept drifting back to him. I stopped mid-scroll and stared at his sleeping form.

A growl from my stomach reminded me that I was hungry. I had refused to eat before we got home. Quietly, I got up and walked downstairs to the kitchen. I quickly made myself a cup of tea.

As I turned toward the living room, I noticed a shadow on the couch. I froze, mug in hand, and crept closer to get a better look.

A groan came from the couch, and I knew immediately who it was. Paulo.

He sat slumped, a bottle of alcohol in his hand. Even in the dim light, I could see how sad he looked, as if he had been crying. My heart sank.

“Paulo,” I called softly, but he did not answer. I tried again, and this time he lifted his head toward me.

“Diana… I didn’t see you there,” he said, his voice breaking as he tried to force a smile.

I stepped closer, offering him a gentle smile. I sat down beside him. He did not look good, and the smell of alcohol was strong. I needed to know what was bothering him.

“You don’t look too good. Here,” I said, reaching for the bottle in his hand. He went for another swig, but I managed to take it away. He pushed my hand away, but I held firm.

“How do you get yourself this drunk?” I asked, my voice tense. “What if Ada comes here and sees you like this? What will she think?”

He half-laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

“Ada… I love Ada so much, Diana. I’ve always loved her, even after what Georgina did to me,” he said softly, his voice cracking.

“She doesn’t have to see me like this. I won’t let her. I will always protect her. I just hope she gets better soon,” he added, his eyes dark with pain.

“Is Ada sick? Where is she?” I asked, concern tightening my chest.

He looked into my eyes, anguish written all over his face.

“How could she do this to me? Even after her death, she still hurt me. I’ve loved Ada all my life. She reminds me of her every single day because that’s how much I loved Georgina. To think she is not even mine… f**k,” he cried out, running his hands through his hair, his voice raw with grief.

He had just insinuated that Ada was not his child. My eyes widened in shock.

Paulo tried to get up, and I rushed to help him, but he was too heavy and unsteady. Before I could steady him properly, footsteps echoed behind us.

“What’s going on here?” Alfonso’s voice filled the room as he stepped inside. His eyes moved from me to his drunk brother, and a shadow crossed his face.

Paulo pulled himself out of my hold and stumbled toward Alfonso.

“Speak of the devil,” Paulo spat.

“I called you earlier. I wanted to know…If she’s yours. But I guess you are too much of a coward to come clean,” Paulo shouted, slurring his words. Then he switched to Italian, his voice rising with each sentence.

I stood frozen, trying to piece everything together. Paulo was heartbroken over Georgina. Ada was not his child. And now he was blaming Alfonso. Could it be true that Alfonso was Ada’s real father?

“I’m not Ada’s father, Paulo,” Alfonso said calmly, his voice firm. “And yes, I did know you were not the father.”

He did not flinch. He did not look away. His hands slipped casually into his pockets. Then his gaze landed on me, cold and unreadable, so different from the man who held me hours ago.

He walked past Paulo and came straight to my side. He took my hand firmly and guided me away from him. I could only stare, shocked by the hostility between the two brothers. I had never seen them speak to each other with so much hatred.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Alfonso told him quietly, but his tone was cutting. “What you need to do right now is be there for Ada. She needs you more than ever. Be grateful they found a donor in time.”

Paulo’s body loosened slightly, his expression torn between anger, pain, and confusion. He lifted a trembling finger toward Alfonso and said something harsh in Italian. Then he staggered away, unsteady and broken.

When he was finally out of sight, Alfonso turned to me.

“I told you to stay away from Paulo. Didn’t I?” he said softly, but the command in his voice was unmistakable.

“I just wanted to help him. He was drunk,” I replied. He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you in the middle of our family issues. Stay out of it,” he warned.

It took me a moment to respond.

“Fine, but you could have at least told me Ada was sick. I know something has been wrong with you lately ,” I said as we walked upstairs.

“And what do you mean by that?” he asked, watching me closely.

“I mean you’ve not been your usual cold, arrogant self,” I said gently. “Please don’t take offense.”

He did not say anything. We went into the bedroom, and he pulled me into his arms once we were in bed.

I lay there watching him as he fell asleep so easily, while my mind kept circling the events of earlier. Even though he wanted me to stay out of it, I had learned too much to simply ignore it now. Something was deeply wrong between him and Paulo. Every day it felt like there was a new secret lurking in this family. Another lie waiting to be uncovered.