He doesn’t give me long to enjoy my tiny victory.
The clip keeps climbing all afternoon. Mia keeps pretending she’s not refreshing every ninety seconds. I keep pretending I’m not listening for his footsteps.
By evening, the comments are a blur of guesses and theories.
– * This is luna v, I’d bet my rent*
– *if this is about who I think it is… yikes*
– *devil? mafia? 👀*
The villa feels tighter with every notification.
I’m in the small sitting room off the hallway, curled in an armchair with my notebook, trying to pretend I care more about a bridge than the digital wildfire outside.
I don’t hear him come in.
I feel him.
The air changes, electric and heavy. The hairs on my arms rise before I even look up.
Dante stands in the doorway, still in his white shirt from earlier, sleeve
