Chapter 3
Hot water slid slowly through Sara’s hair as she stood motionless under the shower. She had already been there for almost twenty minutes. Maybe longer.
But her mind remained trapped in the same night. The same corridor. The same man.
She closed her eyes, remembering the sensation of his touch.
She could still feel her heart race at the memory of the moment she turned to run and collided with him.
The instant Vincenzo’s firm, warm body wrapped around her, pulling her against his broad chest, protecting her with a strength that both soothed and ignited.
Vincenzo Salvatore…
The legendary prince who now made her smile in the middle of the shower.
She could remember with startling clarity: his scent—expensive wood, spices, and something rawer—, the heat radiating from the black suit, the way his fingers pressed against her back, just above her waist. As if he didn’t want only to protect her. As if he wanted to mark her.
He had dark eyes that seemed to see straight through her. Brown hair slightly tousled after so long. A voice far too calm, deep, that slid down her spine like a touch. And a presence that seemed to fill any space without effort.
It was ridiculous.
She had just witnessed something terrifying. A man being beaten.
Blood.
Violence.
Fear.
Yet it was him she kept remembering. The way he held her arms to calm her. The way he looked directly into her eyes when he spoke. The way his attention seemed completely focused on her, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
Sara let out a frustrated sigh, feeling heat rise to her face—and it wasn’t only from the shower water.
“You’re losing your mind…”
She turned off the water. Put on a light satin nightgown and walked to the bedroom. But when she finally lay down, his image remained.
The eyes.
The voice.
The discreet smile.
And especially the strange feeling of safety—and desire—she had felt beside him.
◆◆◆
Kilometers away, a massive illuminated property rose among the Italian hills.
The iron gates opened slowly as Vincenzo’s SUVs crossed the entrance. The Salvatore mansion looked like a palace.
Ancient.
Imposing.
Untouchable.
Vincenzo had barely stepped out of the car when he heard a familiar voice.
“Dude, you got back early, huh? I thought you were gonna spend the night with that goddess. Can’t believe I lost three hundred dollars.”
He sighed immediately, already irritated. He walked past his brother intending to leave him talking to himself; he wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
“What do you mean, three hundred dollars?”
“Ah, well… me and our little brother made a bet…”
Vincenzo was followed by his chatty brother into the house, where he came face to face with the other brother and their mother, who had arrived a short time earlier.
“I told you he wasn’t in love with her. Our brother would never fall into a trap like that. I want my three hundred dollars now!”
Lorenzo looked incredulous at his brother demanding the money.
“What do you mean? You don’t even know what he did while he was gone.
He stared at her the entire time, little brother.
She bewitched him. Look… he’s even in a good mood.
By now he’s already kidnapped her and taken her somewhere secret.
And why do you even want the three hundred dollars? That amount is drunk money.”
“Doesn’t matter. Three hundred dollars is three hundred dollars, little brother. Money is money. Hand it over!”
Lorenzo closed his eyes for a second, not wanting to pay his brother at all.
But before he could say anything, Vincenzo spoke: “Can you stop deciding or guessing my life while I’m standing right here? Why don’t you go find some whore to fuck and leave me the hell alone?”
The youngest brother laughed. “Because we’re your brothers… It’s more fun.”
Lorenzo let out a loud laugh and looked at Vincenzo, who seemed one second away from exploding. Jaw locked. Shoulders tense. Dark eyes narrower than usual.
“Can you two leave your brother alone for one second?”
Francesca finally intervened, losing her patience.
“Your brother is tired. I want to sleep, and you two are going to find something else to do. I don’t want any chaos in my house.”
“Fine… We’re going, woman. You know we love our brother,” Lorenzo said, still smiling. “You saw it too—he was completely smitten. Pretty soon there’ll be a wedding and you’ll have little grandchildren.”
The brothers got up from the sofa in the main living room laughing and left again. Vincenzo took advantage of the silence and climbed the stairs two at a time, escaping to his room.
◆◆◆
His bedroom occupied practically an entire wing of the property.
Dark.
Elegant.
Silent.
After a quick shower, he put on only a black T-shirt and boxer briefs and sat in the armchair near the window. His phone vibrated on the marble table.
The message he had been waiting for from one of his investigators.
Her information.
He opened the file with steady hands, but his heart raced the moment her name appeared on the screen. Any information about her made something tighten in his chest—a mixture of hunger and need he couldn’t explain.
Sara Romani
21 years old
Single
Beginner model
No criminal record
No political involvement
No criminal involvement
Humble family
Lives alone
Modest income
Temporary jobs
Likes to cook in her free time
Vincenzo kept reading.
Every line.
Every detail.
Every piece of information.
The more he discovered, the stranger it seemed. She truly didn’t belong to his world. Not even a little.
And maybe that was exactly what attracted him.
He slowly ran his thumb across the screen, as if he could touch the words.
He imagined her alone in a small kitchen, preparing something simple.
He imagined the smell of homemade food mixed with the light perfume she had worn that night.
He imagined what it would be like to see her in sleep clothes, hair loose, barefoot…
The phone vibrated again.
He answered without hesitation:
— Install cameras near where she lives and inside the house. I want to know her routine.
It was the only message he sent.
Nothing too invasive.
Nothing that could scare her.
But he needed to know where she was. Who she was with. What she did. When she slept. When she woke up.
It was invasive. He knew that.
But he was a criminal… he had never been a normal man. And for her… he wanted to be the legendary prince she had seen that night. Even if only for a little while. Let it be perfect while it lasted.
◆◆◆
The days passed.
Sara tried to return to her routine. Photo shoots. Castings. Interviews. Hours walking through the city. But occasionally her mind drifted back to that night. To Vincenzo. To the way he said her name before leaving—low, almost possessive.
That particular afternoon, work had finished early. The sky was clear. The temperature pleasant. She decided to walk to a café she liked to frequent. A small, cozy place with outdoor tables facing a few food stalls.
She ordered a coffee and a slice of pie. Sat near the window. For the first time that week she felt peace. No pressure. No crowds. No photographers. Just the soft sound of conversations around her.
She brought the cup to her lips, watching the view.
Then a shadow appeared beside the table.
Sara lifted her eyes.
And immediately recognized those dark eyes.
Vincenzo.
Her heart simply forgot how to work.
He was dressed casually—black linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, dark pants. But he was still just as elegant. Just as dangerous. Just as beautiful. The fabric marked his broad shoulders. The open collar revealed a stretch of skin on his chest.
A small smile appeared on his lips. Slow. Almost intimate.
“Hello, Sara.”
He said her name as if he already had the right to. As if he had repeated it mentally many times since the last time they saw each other.
Sara blinked several times, still surprised. Her stomach flipped. Heat rose up her neck.
“Vincenzo…”
He didn’t ask permission. He simply pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, as if the place already belonged to him. His eyes traveled calmly over her face, lingering on her lips still damp from the coffee, then returned to meet hers.
“You look better…” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Different from the last time I saw you.”
Sara gripped the cup tighter between her fingers, trying to control her breathing. His presence was overwhelming even here, in broad daylight. His scent reached her. The way he looked at her, as if he were preparing to strike, made her skin tingle.
“I am better… What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
Vincenzo tilted his head slightly, the discreet smile still on his lips.
“Having coffee,” he answered simply. Then, lower, almost like a secret: “And finding you.”
The silence that formed between them was charged. He didn’t look away. She felt every second of that gaze like a touch.
And even as she tried to convince herself otherwise, Sara realized that part of her was flattered he had shown up.