You Can't Buy My Heart, Mr. Vitiello

Ross

t didn't just brighten the room; it interrogated it, illuminating the dus

nd, reading a dossier with

ly hours prior. He didn't look like a lover. He loo

s voice flat, never lifting his gaze from t

ce. A transaction. Obedie

the way my hand trembled against the china. "I need t

re dark abysses, voids that swallowe

fia Moretti

in the kitchen s

yet final. "Sofia is business. You are...

. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. T

The one with the open b

could summon th

nst the marble count

age I was living in. "Your father's surgery is scheduled for next week. The do

at, acrid and hot. "

h his... import business... but when are you going

t, my voice tight as a wire.

ogistics magnate who adored their daughter. They didn't know their medical bills were paid w

the sterility of science. Under the microscope, cells b

d skin, the back plunging dangerously low, exposing my spine to the world

was the charity event of the season, a convenient masquera

ing in the biting night air. Dan

the curb. The paparazzi flashbulb

looked devastatingly handsome, a prin

n't reach

r and took a hand. A hand g

vet, a blood-red jewel demanding the world's attention. S

elbow. They walked up the red carpet toget

shadows of a pi

photographer whisper to his coll

lo kept a pet," t

he colleague sneered. "That

d. Dante walked right past my hiding spot. He didn'

hadn't told me I would be a s

d high, masking the shattering of my pride with a mask of ice. I ent

e room, Dante

ass slightly. A silent toa

oked

I didn't crave the s

watch his