The night was still and quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves stirred by the cool breeze. Romeo stood near the edge of the Moretti estate’s front lawn, his posture rigid, hands buried deep in his pockets. The vast expanse of the grounds felt suffocating tonight, the sprawling mansion behind him an oppressive presence. He should have gone inside hours ago, but something kept him rooted to the spot.
Something—or rather, someone.
Aria.
He told himself not to wait. He had no right to linger, no claim to her that would justify his pacing under the stars. Yet, here he was, feet rooted to the ground, watching the empty driveway like a sentinel.
His gaze flicked toward the automatic gates every few seconds, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He knew where she was. She
