REINA
We walked to the main house together, hand in hand because that’s what we were supposed to do. The air smelled faintly of coffee and freshly baked bread when we stepped into the dining room. Breakfast was already laid out—fruit, pastries, eggs, meats—a spread that belonged in a magazine.
The maids moved quietly around the table, pouring juice and filling plates.
I sat beside Paolo, my legs crossed, the hem of my dress sliding up just enough to show the edge of my thigh. The maids finished their tasks and slipped out, the soft click of the door closing behind them.
It wasn’t until then that Domenico entered.
My breath caught without my permission. He wore a black shirt, open at the collar, sleeves rolled just enough to show the strong lines of his forearms, the same arms that ha
