May had been hunched over her system since morning, shoulders tight, eyes burning slightly from staring too long at the screen. Files were scattered across multiple tabs, budgets, contracts, schedules, all demanding attention at once, and she handled them the only way she knew how...with ruthless focus.
Work was easier than thinking.
A notification slid across her screen and she clicked it absentmindedly, already preparing to dismiss it, until the words registered.
Milano Fashion Week...Internal Reminder.
Her fingers froze.
Italy.
The details expanded automatically, dates, venues, logistics, and then the name that made her lips press into a thin line.
Serena Vales.
Of course she was representing the company.
May leaned back slightly, exhaling through her nose as irritation crept in. Serena never attended anything without demands, never agreed to anything without conditions, and every interaction felt like a negotiation disguised as a favor. She already knew the meeting would be exhausting, that Serena would push boundaries again and expect them to bend.
She closed the tab and rubbed her temple.
A knock sounded before she could dwell on it further.
Pete walked in carrying a thick file, expression businesslike as always. "We need final approval on the dresses for Milan," he said, placing it neatly on her desk. "Shipping deadlines are tight."
She nodded, flipping it open immediately. Fabrics, silhouettes, color palettes...she scanned through them with practiced ease while Pete updated her on sponsor confirmations, press interest, and seating arrangements. She responded automatically, voice steady, confident, every inch the CEO everyone expected her to be.
Yet her focus slipped.
Just slightly.
Her gaze lingered on nothing as her thoughts drifted somewhere else entirely.
Luca.
The way he had moved through her store like he belonged there, the way he had dismantled a counterfeit with unsettling precision, the calm authority he carried even when he claimed not to know who he was. He didn't act like a man searching for himself, he acted like a man temporarily misplaced.
Her jaw tightened. He didn't have a phone.
The realization came fully this time, followed by a quiet sigh. She had left him at home that morning with nothing but vague instructions and money he hadn't touched. For someone so commanding, he was strangely dependent, and she didn't like the thought of him stranded if something happened.
"I'll get him one," she murmured under her breath.
Pete looked up. "Get who?"
She straightened instantly. "Nothing. I'll review this and send you my picks."
He nodded, used to her abrupt shifts, and left without another word.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Meetings, calls, emails...she powered through them all until the building emptied and dusk settled outside her office windows. When she finally shut down her system, exhaustion crept in quietly, heavier than she expected.
Her phone rang as she reached for her bag. She glanced at the screen and stopped.
Father.
Her breath caught.
For a moment, the world narrowed to that single word glowing in her hand. Her confidence, her sharp edges, the persona she wore so effortlessly...it all fractured.
She answered. "H-hello?"
The stutter embarrassed her instantly, but she couldn't stop it. She said nothing else, only listened, fingers tightening around the phone as the voice on the other end spoke. Her expression shifted slowly, disbelief bleeding into something darker, something wounded.
She didn't interrupt, she didn't argue and she didn't raise her voice.
When the call ended, she stood there staring at the blank screen, chest rising unevenly.
Her father was back.
She had buried that part of her life so deeply she had almost believed it was gone for good. Prison had been final in her mind, justice served, the door closed forever.
Apparently, it hadn't been.
Rain began to fall as she drove out of the parking lot, light droplets tapping against the windshield. She had already seen the forecast earlier and ignored it, like she ignored most warnings.
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as memories surfaced uninvited, sharp and raw. Pain she had hidden behind ambition, control, and an arrogance carefully crafted to keep the world at a distance.
She blinked hard as tears spilled over, blurring the road ahead.
She hated herself for crying.
The rain grew heavier, pouring now, headlights streaking uselessly across wet asphalt. She slowed down, breath uneven, heart pounding, mind spiraling faster than she could rein it in.
She was almost home.
Just one more stretch of road.
The impact came without warning.
A violent jolt, metal screeching, the car skidding before slamming into something solid. The air left her lungs in a sharp gasp as everything went still except the rain.
She sat frozen for a second, then forced the door open and stumbled out, the cold downpour soaking her instantly. Her legs buckled beside the car and she sank onto the pavement, rain mixing with tears she could no longer hold back.
She cried openly, shoulders shaking, pride forgotten.
She didn't know how long she stayed like that, broken under the weight of memories she had spent years outrunning.
Then she felt it.
Someone was there.
She lifted her head slowly.
A pair of boots stood before her, unmoving. The rain stopped falling on her face as an umbrella appeared above, shielding her from the storm.
She followed it upward.
Luca.
He stood there, expression unreadable, rain dripping from the umbrella's edge, eyes fixed on her with a steadiness that felt grounding and dangerous all at once.
She almost laughed at the absurdity.
She had always hated romance dramas, hated the ridiculous timing, the unrealistic way love was portrayed, the main guy appearing like a knight at the exact moment everything fell apart.
Yet here he was.
He looked down at her, voice low, firm, carrying an authority she was beginning to recognize far too well.
"You made me find you."
