Chapter 4
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the cozy atmosphere of the café. Through the large window beside the table, the golden light of late afternoon bathed the tree-lined square outside. A few people strolled leisurely along the sidewalks while a gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the trees.
Sara was still trying to believe that Vincenzo was actually sitting there across from her. After days of thinking about that mysterious man. After days of wondering if she would ever see him again.
Now he was here. Drinking coffee as if this meeting were the most natural thing in the world.
“I never imagined I’d find a man like you walking around here…” she said, still a little wary. “This is a pretty strange coincidence.”
Vincenzo took a slow sip of his coffee, his dark eyes fixed on her over the rim of the cup.
“Didn’t you like running into me here?”
Sara smiled gently, feeling her face warm a little.
“I like running into you, Vincenzo… So far it’s been a pleasure.”
“Maybe I need to try harder then… So that it’s always a pleasure…”
Sara smiled, embarrassed, not knowing what to say.
The conversation continued pleasantly. And for the first time since she had met him, Sara began to completely relax around him.
Vincenzo was different from the men who usually approached her.
He didn’t try to impress her. He didn’t make inappropriate comments.
He didn’t show off his money. He simply listened.
Paid attention. And asked questions that showed genuine interest.
For a few seconds, the conversation died. Neither of them seemed bothered by the silence. But it was in that moment that Vincenzo noticed something.
A ring. On her finger. Exactly where a married woman would wear one.
His gaze dropped automatically to her hand resting on the table. Then it returned to her face. An almost imperceptible expression crossed his features—something between surprise and a disapproval he couldn’t completely hide. His jaw tightened slightly.
“Forgive the question,” he said calmly, his voice lower. “Are you married?”
Sara lifted her eyes, confused. Then she followed his gaze and smiled. A sincere smile that lit up her entire face and made something tighten in Vincenzo’s chest.
“No!” she answered, still laughing.
He arched an eyebrow, his gaze still locked on the ring.
“No?”
“No, dear…” She kept laughing as she twisted the ring on her finger.
“Then why do you wear it?”
“Protection,” she replied, resting her elbows on the table. “When you’re a single woman living alone, some men simply don’t understand the word ‘no.’ So I let people think I have a husband.”
Vincenzo remained silent. His jaw grew visibly tenser. The idea of other men approaching her, insisting, bothering her… that did not please him. Not one bit.
“And does it work?” he asked, his voice controlled but with a deeper tone.
“More than it should,” she shrugged. “Some people think twice before bothering a woman who apparently already has a husband.”
His dark eyes stayed on her for a few seconds. Lingering. Intense.
“Has that happened many times?” The question came out lower, almost intimate.
Her smile faded a little.
“Enough.”
That didn’t please him. For a second he imagined someone insisting with her, touching her without permission. The image made something dark rise in his chest. He nodded slowly, controlling his reaction.
“I understand.”
The conversation continued flowing after that.
Lighter. More natural. As if they had known each other longer than they actually had.
At one point, Sara managed to make him laugh again by telling an absurd story about a photoshoot that had ended with a model falling into a decorative fountain.
Vincenzo laughed softly, genuinely, and the sound made Sara feel a strange warmth in her stomach.
It was in that instant that something changed.
Because Vincenzo realized something strange: he liked listening to her talk.
He liked watching her smile.
He liked her company.
Much more than he should.
When they finally left the café, the sun was already beginning to disappear behind the buildings.
The city took on the golden tones of dusk.
They walked together through the quiet streets.
In no hurry. With no destination other than her house.
The conversations continued. She talked about her childhood, about the dreams she’d had since she was little, about her desire to build a career.
Vincenzo listened to everything. But he said very little about himself. A few truths. Many omissions. After all, certain parts of his life could never be told.
Along the way, their arms nearly brushed from time to time. The afternoon breeze moved a few loose strands of her hair, and he felt an almost irresistible impulse to brush them away with his fingers. He didn’t move. But the desire stayed there, throbbing.
When they reached the street where Sara lived, both of them slowed their steps at almost the same time. As if neither of them really wanted to end that afternoon. The small house appeared just ahead. The porch lights were already on.
“Well…” Sara smiled, stopping in front of the gate. “We’re here.”
“Looks like it.”
The silence that followed was different from the others. More intense. More charged. The two of them remained looking at each other for a few seconds. Just looking. As if they were trying to memorize every detail of one another.
The wind moved more strands of her hair. Vincenzo felt that impulse again. This time, he gave in. His fingers acted on impulse and tucked the strands of her hair behind her ear. He watched her close her eyes for a moment, enjoying the small gesture. That left him wildly enchanted by her.
“Thank you for the company,” she said softly, her voice gentler.
“Likewise, Sara…”
The way he said her name—low, almost affectionate—made something vibrate in her chest. She felt his gaze drop, for a second, to her mouth. Then return to her eyes.
“Good night, Vincenzo.”
“Good night, Sara.”
She went through the small gate. Climbed the porch steps. And disappeared inside the house. The door closed.
Vincenzo remained standing on the sidewalk longer than he should have. Watching the lights turn on inside the residence. As if he needed to make sure she was truly safe. As if he wanted to imprint the image of that simple house in his memory.
Then his phone vibrated.
Reality returned immediately.
He answered irritably.
“Mr. Salvatore…” The voice on the other end was serious. “Your father has called a meeting.”
Vincenzo’s gaze remained fixed on the lit window of the house, but the expression on his face showed how much his patience had already been spent just by the call.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
There was a brief silence.
“Business…”
Vincenzo already knew that when his father used that word, it rarely meant something simple. He put the phone back in his pocket. Cast one last look at Sara’s house.
Then he turned and walked toward the black car that waited discreetly on the other side of the street. They had been followed and protected the entire time until they reached Sara’s house.
For the first time, Vincenzo didn’t want to be a criminal…