19. LAYLA
19
LAYLA
"What did you want to talk about?" I shift in my chair, fingers tapping against the smooth glass table.
Across from me, Valentino is silent, his expression unreadable as he stirs his untouched coffee.
He texted me this morning, saying it was urgent, insisting we meet at the earliest. But now, as we sit across from each other in a quiet café near my place, he isn’t saying anything.
And it’s freaking me out.
"Are you going to say anything, or just keep staring at me like that?"
He exhales slowly, as if weighing his words. “I’m trying to figure out the best way to tell you this.”
"Now you’re really freaking me out."
He leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “I saw my dad yesterday.”
My heartbeat quickens. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until I force myself to exhale.
"And? Does he suspect anything?" My voice comes out sharper than I intend.
His lips twitch, but there’s no amusement in it. “Actually, quite the opposite.” He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Apparently, we’re better actors than I thought. My dad thinks our relationship is the real deal.”
My stomach twists.
I should be happy about that. This is what we wanted, right?
But why does it feel like a punch to the gut when he says it like that? Like it’s all just a show?
Like… I’m the only one who doesn’t know what’s real anymore.
I force out a hollow chuckle. “I guess we played our parts perfectly, then.”
Valentino nods, but something about the way he’s looking at me feels… off. Like he’s trying to read my mind.
He shifts in his seat, rubbing his jaw before speaking again. “There’s just one thing that needs to happen before the handover.”
My pulse picks up. “What?”
He hesitates for a second, then meets my gaze head-on.
“My dad wants us to get engaged.”
"Engaged?" My voice comes out breathless.
"Yeah." His fingers tap against the table. "Sooner rather than later."
The café feels too quiet. The noise of people chatting, the clinking of plates, it all fades into the background as I stare at him.
"How soon?" I finally ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
“There’s a family dinner this weekend.” He pauses, watching me carefully. “I was thinking… I could propose then.”
I freeze.
This is happening too fast.
I knew an engagement was always a possibility, but I never thought it would actually happen.
And now, it’s not even a discussion, it’s just something that has to happen.
I look down at my hands, suddenly feeling like the air is too thick.
"Is this... a big thing?" My voice is barely above a whisper.
“The dinner itself? No. Just family.” He shifts in his seat. “But the announcement will make the papers.”
My breath catches.
The papers.
It won’t just be a dinner. It won’t just be a Marchetti family affair. It’ll be everywhere.
I’m going to be Valentino Marchetti’s fiancée. The woman who’s about to marry into one of the most powerful families in Italy.
And it’s all fake.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
Is it all fake, though?
A part of me wants to ask him.
When you said you were falling in love with me... did you mean it, or was that just part of the act?
But I don’t.
Because I’m terrified of the answer.
Valentino reaches for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. His voice softens. “Hey. You’re awfully quiet.”
"I just never thought being asked to get married would feel so..." I search for the right word. "Clinical."
He laughs, but there’s something forced about it. “Wow, that’s worse than I expected.” Then he smirks. “But you don’t have to worry about it. It’s just temporary. I won’t keep you hostage forever.”
Something inside me cracks.
The words hit harder than they should.
I won’t keep you hostage forever.
So, what? This is just another deal? Something we can walk away from?
He says it like it’s so simple. Like this thing between us, whatever it is, is just something that will fade away the moment his father hands him control of the business.
Like I’ll fade away. Like none of it will matter.
I force a tight smile, looking down at my cup so he won’t see the way my eyes burn.
"Of course. Just a business deal, right?"
For a moment, he doesn’t respond.
I feel his stare, heavy and unreadable.
Something flickers in his expression, something unspoken, lingering between us.
Our gazes lock, and for a second, I feel the weight of everything we’re not saying.
Then, finally, he lets out a quiet chuckle. "Right. Yeah. Of course."
And just like that, the invisible wall between us gets even higher.
“You don’t have to tell Vincent, I know how confusing this could be for him.”
His concern for Vincent almost makes me smile.
Almost.
But deep down, guilt claws at me.
When do I tell Valentino the truth?
Every time I plan to do it, something stops me.
And now, with this fake engagement, I’m sinking deeper into a lie I don’t know how to escape.
I force myself to nod. “Sure. We can do this at the dinner.”
Valentino studies me carefully, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Layla… you’re okay with this, right?”
"Of course."
A lie.
***
That night, the guilt is unbearable.
After putting Vincent to sleep, I stand in the doorway of his room, watching him breathe.
His tiny chest rises and falls, his little fingers curled around his stuffed elephant. He is still warm at times, and gets tired easily, but there is nothing too serious that I should rush to a doctor.
This is just me being an overprotective mother. Especially now with Valentino back in our lives.
As my eyes stay on the most important person in my life, I ache.
When do I tell him?
I’ve been telling myself all the clichés. Soon. When the timing is right. When things settle down. When I can find the words.
But when will that be? What if I’m too late? What if the moment never comes?
What if I keep pretending, just like I did today?
Valentino says we’re good actors. I don’t feel like one. I feel like a coward.
I close my eyes, gripping the doorframe.
"You deserve to know the truth, Vincent. You deserve to know who your father is."
But what if telling him destroys everything? What if it destroys me and Valentino?
My heart clenches painfully.
I don't even know if there's a ‘me and Valentino’ to destroy.
And somehow, that hurts the most.
I’m curl up on the couch next to Giana, a half-empty bottle of wine between us, my mind spiraling in a million different directions.
I called her over to tell her Valentino’s plans to get engaged.
Vincent is asleep in his room. The house is quiet. I should be relaxing, unwinding after the whirlwind of tonight.
But I can’t.
Because no matter how much I tell myself otherwise, my thoughts refuse to settle.
I’m getting engaged.
The words keep echoing in my head, a chant I can’t escape.
It’s fake. All of this is fake.
But if it’s fake, why does it feel so damn real ?
I press the rim of my wine glass to my lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink.
"This whole thing is getting more complicated," I mutter, rubbing my temple.
Giana lifts a brow, giving me a knowing look. "Layla, honey, what did you expect?"
I let out a tired sigh, tilting my head back against the couch. "I don’t know. Maybe… something that made sense?"
She snorts, swirling the wine in her glass. "Your engagement making sense? Please, babe."
I groan, dragging a hand down my face. "I thought I’d at least have more time to wrap my head around it. But now I have to stand in front of his entire family and act like this is my reality."
Giana takes a long sip of her wine, her gaze sharp. "So, it’s all just an act?"
I freeze, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my sweatpants.
She’s looking at me too intently now, like she already knows what I’m about to say. Like she’s known all along.
My stomach clenches.
"Giana…" My voice is barely above a whisper. "It’s not real. None of it. Valentino and I…"
I exhale, pressing my fingers against my temples. "It’s all fake. He needs to show his father he’s settling down for him to inherit the company."
For a second, she just watches me, her expression unreadable. Then, she sighs, shaking her head. "I knew something was up."
I blink. "You did?"
"Babe, I’ve had my suspicions for weeks." She sets her wine glass down. "You two have chemistry, sure. But something about how fast everything happened? It didn’t add up. A fake relationship for mutual benefit, though? That’s a new one."
I let out a humorless laugh, sinking deeper into the couch. "I didn’t think it would get this far. I thought it would be simple, a business deal, nothing more."
"Yeah? And how’s that working out for you?"
I groan. "Not well."
"No shit."
Silence settles between us, heavy and unspoken.
Then, she nudges me. "Alright, spill it. What’s got you spiraling? The wedding? The act? Or is it something else?"
I hesitate.
My fingers toy with the hem of my sweater as I search for the right words.
"I don’t know if I can keep pretending."
Giana’s expression softens. "Because you’re catching feelings?"
My breath hitches, but I don’t say anything.
I don’t have to.
She sees it anyway.
"Damn," she whispers, shaking her head. "You’re in love with him."
I flinch, looking away. "It doesn’t matter."
"How does it not matter?"
I let out a sharp breath, setting my glass down harder than necessary. "Because at the end of the day, this isn’t real. Valentino made that perfectly clear."
She frowns. "How clear?"
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "He told me he wouldn’t keep me ‘hostage forever.’ That’s how he sees this, Giana. Like it has an expiration date."
Saying the words out loud makes my chest ache, like I’ve just reopened a wound I was trying to ignore.
Giana watches me carefully. "But, Layla… Do you believe that’s how he really feels?"
I bite my lip, shaking my head. "I don’t know. And that’s the problem."
She leans forward. "Babe, listen to me. People don’t just fake the kind of feelings I’ve seen between you two. It’s either there or it’s not. And with you and Valentino? It’s there. Whether you want to admit it or not."
My chest tightens.
"Even if it was real for a second, it doesn’t matter now," I say, my voice quieter. "We both agreed to ignore it. To act like nothing happened."
Giana’s brows knit together. "What happened?"
I hesitate.
Then, I whisper, "He told me he is falling for me."
She blinks. "Wait. What?"
I swallow hard, nodding. "Yeah. He said it. But now… it doesn’t feel right."
Her mouth parts slightly, but she doesn’t speak for a moment. Then, she exhales, rubbing her temples. "Okay. I’m officially losing my mind. This is ridiculous."
"Tell me about it."
Giana shakes her head. "No, babe. This is bullshit. If he said it, then he felt it. And if he felt it, he still does."
I scoff. "You don’t know that."
"And you do?"
I open my mouth, then close it. Because I don’t.
I don’t know what Valentino really feels. I don’t know if it was just the heat of the moment or something more. I don’t know if I was a fleeting impulse or if I actually matter to him.
And not knowing? It’s suffocating.
"You have to talk to him," Giana says softly.
I shake my head. "I can’t."
"Why not?"
I close my eyes, pressing my fingers against my forehead. "Because it’s not just me, Giana. It’s Vincent, too."
She stills.
"If this ends… if I tell Valentino how I feel and he doesn’t feel the same, it’s not just my heart on the line. It’s Vincent’s too. He’s already started getting attached. He sees Valentino as someone who’s sticking around. But if I tell the truth and this all falls apart, he’ll lose his father without even knowing it. And I can’t do that to him."
Giana’s expression softens, and she reaches for my hand, squeezing it. "Layla… You’re not the only one who gets a say in how this ends."
I suck in a shaky breath.
"You need to stop making decisions for Valentino and just tell him the truth. He deserves to hear it. From you."
Tears burn the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. "I know."
Giana squeezes my hand again. "So, what are you going to do?"
I don’t answer. Because the truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know if I should tell Valentino everything before the engagement…
…Or if I should keep pretending, just a little longer.
And that uncertainty?
It’s slowly breaking me apart.
A sudden cry comes from Vincent’s room.
I jump up immediately.
Vincent is sitting up in his bed, his tiny body trembling.
"What’s wrong, baby? Was it a bad dream?"
His little legs kick, and my heart drops when I touch his forehead.
Burning up.
Panic grips me.
Giana appears in the doorway. "Layla?"
I turn to her, heart pounding. “We need to go to the doctor.”
***
"We were finally able to get his fever down," the doctor tells me, his tone gentle but firm. "Make him rest as much as possible. He needs time."
Tears prick my eyes.
Giana stays by my side, driving us home, keeping me from spiraling.
That night, I sit beside Vincent’s crib, watching him breathe.
Giana gently pulls me away. “Come on, Layla. You need sleep too.”
I stare at her, my eyes bloodshot.
Then, suddenly, the dam breaks. Tears spill over, unstoppable.
Giana grabs my hand. “Layla, you’re a great mom. Vincent is going to be okay.”
“I’ve been so caught up with Valentino, I didn’t see this coming.” My voice breaks.
“This is not your fault.”
But the guilt doesn’t leave.
***
The day of the dinner arrives, but my heart is still at home.
Vincent has been taking medication and has proper hydration as the doctor ordered.
My mother and Giana promise me Vincent is in good hands.
I try to believe them.
I stand before the full-length mirror in my bedroom, my breath catching as I take in my reflection.
This dress… it’s a masterpiece.
The champagne-colored silk drapes over my body like liquid gold, molding to my curves as if it was made just for me. It clings in all the right places, accentuating the dip of my waist before cascading down in soft, effortless waves. The slit, high and deliciously daring, runs along my thigh, teasing just enough skin to be dangerous.
My fingers skim over the delicate lace detailing along the bodice, the sweetheart neckline dipping just enough to hint at seduction while still holding onto its elegance.
When I showed Valentino my options, he chose this for me, and whether or not he’ll admit it, it’s clear he wants me to look irresistible.
I sigh, running my hands over my arms as if I can smooth away the anxiety tightening my chest. I’ve barely stepped out of my room when my mother’s voice reaches me, gentle but firm.
“My dear, you don’t need to worry about anything.”
“I still don’t know about this.” My voice laced with worry. “Vincent’s fever is getting better, but it keeps coming and going. It’s been three days, Mom. What if it gets worse?”
She steps forward, placing her hands gently on my shoulders. “We’ll take care of everything at home and make sure Vincent gets the rest he needs. You don’t have to feel guilty for leaving the house for a few hours.”
But I do. God, I do.
The thought of leaving my baby while he’s still sick makes my stomach churn.
How can I go out, dress up, and pretend to be excited about a fake engagement when my son might need me at any moment?
“I don’t know, Mom.” I wrap my arms around myself.
“He’s still going to be here when you get back. And Giana will be here, too.”
Giana steps up beside my mother. “Just try to focus on the event tonight, Layla. We’ll take care of Vincent. We’ve got this.”
I sigh, my worry momentarily soothed by the fact that I have such incredible people in my life who love Vincent as much as I do. They wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
“Just please call me as soon as his fever comes back or if he needs anything.” My fingers tighten around the small clutch in my hand.
Valentino just texted, he’s waiting outside.
“Of course,” my mom assures me. “And you have a great evening, okay? Tell us everything when you’re back.”
Reluctantly, I leave my house and walk toward Valentino, who’s leaning casually against the hood of his car.
The second he sees me, his gaze darkens with something unreadable, his eyes raking over my body.
Want. Hunger. Possession.
My breath catches slightly at the intensity of it.
“Ready to go?” He reaches for my hand, his voice lower than usual. “You look beautiful.”
I manage a nod, my lips curving into a small smile despite the lingering doubt in my chest.
“Thanks.”
He walks me to my door, opening it before I slide in. His presence is grounding, but I still can’t shake the gnawing feeling in my gut.
Vincent. The truth. The mess I’ve created.
“Do you have the ring?” My voice stays light, but my mind is elsewhere.
He grins, pulling out a small velvet box just enough for me to see it before tucking it back into his pocket.
I settle into my seat, exhaling slowly. I have to stop thinking about Vincent right now. Worrying won’t help. I need to trust my mother and Giana to handle things while I do what I came here to do.
“You know?” I glance at him as he pulls onto the road. “I would’ve accepted a paper ring, too. It’s not about a fancy diamond.”
Valentino chuckles, shaking his head. “And that’s why I’m marrying you.”
But the way he says it, it doesn’t feel like a joke.
My heart stumbles over itself, my fingers twitching against my lap.
What are we doing?
“We can do this.” I reach out, grabbing his hand.
He glances at me briefly before giving my fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s get this over with.”
***
The Marchetti estate is buzzing when we arrive. It’s a small dinner, only immediate family and a few aunts and uncles, but the air is charged, like something monumental is about to happen.
I smile politely, joining the conversations, laughing at the right moments, but my mind is back home, in Vincent.
I discreetly pull out my phone under the table and text Giana.
Is he okay???
Giana:
He’s sleeping. Relax and enjoy ur evening.
I exhale, shoulders slumping slightly. I try to focus, but my mind won’t let me. I barely touch my food, my fingers curling around the stem of my wine glass, feeling restless.
Then, Valentino leans in. “It’s almost time. Are you ready?”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. Because the answer is no. I’m not ready.
Enzo clears his throat, raising his glass. “It’s so good to finally have the whole family together.” He looks around the room with pride. “And to have our newest member, Layla, here as well. I could not have imagined a better night.”
I smile, even as my stomach twists itself into knots. The weight of this lie is suffocating.
Then, without warning, Valentino stands up.
My heart skips a beat.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small velvet box.
What is he doing? This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to wait until later. Until I was ready.
My breath catches as he kneels beside me.
Gasps ripple through the room.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
“Layla.” His voice remains steady, but his eyes betray something deeper, something like doubt. “I cannot wait to do this any longer.”
I swallow hard.
“You’ve been like a shot of sunshine ever since the day you walked into my life. It’s been an amazing adventure with you every single day, and I want us to take the next step.”
My pulse hammers.
Is he acting? Or is there truth in his words?
“Layla, will you marry me?”
Everything stills.
The room falls silent.
All eyes are on me.
My chest rises and falls too fast, my vision tunneling.
My mind screams at me to stop this before it spirals further.
But my lips part, and I hear myself whisper a hesitant, “Yes.”
The room erupts into cheers. Applause. Clapping. Excited voices congratulating us. People rushing forward, embracing us, kissing my cheeks.
But I feel numb.
I glance at Valentino, and my heart stops.
Because I see it, the same look I’m sure is on my own face.
Disbelief. Uncertainty. Maybe even regret.
And before I can process it, before I can breathe, a sudden commotion erupts outside.
Shouts. Loud voices. Something crashes.
I freeze.
Valentino stiffens beside me.
Our eyes lock.
Something is wrong.
Without a word, we both move toward the source of the noise.
And I already know, our problems are only beginning.