Brianna’s POV
Morning comes too quickly. The villa is all sunlight and the smell of coffee, but inside me, it’s chaos, raw nerves wrapped in silk. Last night lingers on my skin, in the ache of my thighs, in the way my lips still feel swollen from Enzo’s kiss. Every step I take feels like a reminder of what I gave him, what he took, what we can never speak of again.
Matteo is waiting by the car when I come down the stairs. He looks immaculate, as if he’s been ironed into his suit, tie crisp, shoes gleaming. I slide into the seat beside him, my hands folded neatly on my lap, the mask of perfection back in place.
On the jet, once the staff serve coffee and retreat, Matteo turns to me. His voice is casual, but I know the weight beneath it.
“So, how did you spend your last afternoon in Spai
