We arrive in Rome under the cover of night, but sleep eludes me. My mind is a whirlwind, replaying the almost-kiss with Stefano over and over. I can still feel the ghost of his breath on my skin, his lips a whisper away from mine. The memory sends electricity coursing through my veins, leaving me restless and aching for more.
What if Samuel hadn’t interrupted? Would Stefano have finally given in to the magnetic pull between us? The possibility both thrills and terrifies me. I long for him to claim my lips with a passion that would leave me weak-kneed and breathless. Yet, a part of me fears the aftermath. Stefano’s pattern of hot and cold behavior haunts me - the way he pulls away after our heated moments, his eyes turning to ice, his words laced with indifference that cuts deeper than any
