Chapter 10
Damiano
One Year Ago, Buenos Aires
The sterile smell of the private hospital room that looked more like a hotel suite was a sickening contrast to the smell of burning rubber and blood that had been seared into my nostrils from the night before.
I paced the room like a dazed animal, the wheezing of the oxygen concentrator drove me insane.
Every time her heart rate monitor dipped, my heart plummeted.
Every time I looked at her as she lay there unconscious, the protective instinct I had been trying to suppress for six months roared to life.
I could still see the flashes of those cameras in my mind, the way they had swarmed like vultures.
To those paparazzi, Katarina was just the next best clickbait that would give them their next paycheck.
She was not a real person to them anymore.
Suddenly, the thought of finding every one of them and breaking the hands that had held those cameras became the subject of my fantasies.
I had tried my damndest to stay away from her from the moment I met her. I knew she was trouble, and it would not end well for either of us. Yet, she drew me in like a firefly to a lamp. And last night, I stepped over a line. I kissed her, and now she was lying in a hospital bed.
This is my fucking fault.
It was ten in the morning when Katarina finally stirred.
A soft whimper escaped her lips as her eyes fluttered open, glassy with morphine.
She squinted against the light, her gaze wandered over the IV drips before settling on me.
She looked so small in the hospital bed, swallowed by the white sheets.
Her forehead was wrapped in a thick pressure bandage, covering a deep gash from where her head had hit the side window of her car. A brace was locked around her neck to keep her spine from shifting, making her look stiff and fragile.
She reached up with a weak, trembling hand to adjust the oxygen mask, but her fingers were stiff, marred by tiny glass shards that the doctors had spent hours picking out.
“Where… where am I?” Her voice cracked.
“Hospital,” I said, my voice sounding like it was being dragged through gravel. I stepped toward the bed, relief and rage warring in my chest. “You were in an accident. A bad one.”
For a few seconds, she stared at me. Then I watched as the memories came back to her. Her pupils dilated, and her breath hitched. She turned her head away, her shoulders shaking as the first sob broke through. She cried with desperate sobs that made the monitor's rhythm skip and race.
“Stop, it’s okay. You’re okay.” I said, reaching out to her cheek so she could look at me.
“w-why are you here?” she chokes.
I didn't want to be angry, but the sight of her broken and pale was too much.
“I told you not to get in that car. I told you not to drive. You nearly died in my arms, Katarina. Do you have any idea what that was like?”
She finally looks at me, her tears rolling down her temples. “Lo siento… I just… the cameras… I had to get away.”
“And you almost died!” I snapped, though my hand found hers, my thumb tracing her knuckles with a gentleness that betrayed my tone. I took a sharp breath as if to calm us both.
“Mateo is on a flight back from New York. He’ll be here soon. He’s going to kill us both.” I offered a smile to lighten the mood, but it only made her cry harder.
“I’ve ruined everything,” she whispered, her eyes red-rimmed and swimming in tears. “My career… Sol… the photos…”
“The photos are already everywhere,” I said, looking at the tabloid on the bedside table.
“The Model and the Mogul: A Dangerous Affair,” I read the headline to her.
“They think we were having an affair. They were saying I upset you, so you left me and drove like a maniac.” I added after a beat, and she closed her eyes as if to try to hide from shame.
“Perdóname,” she sobbed. “I am so, so sorry for dragging you into this.”
I looked at the woman in front of me, hurt and scared. And somehow, the only thing that mattered to me was to make sure she was okay. She had been reckless, and she had done something wrong that I should have been mad about. But all I wanted to do was make her feel better.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I didn't give a damn about the papers, Kat,” I said, leaning over her until my shadow fell across her face. I reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, careful to avoid the pressure bandage on her forehead.
“Your car is scrap metal. Just don’t ever do that again. Don't ever endanger yourself like that again.”
She looked up at me, her eyes glossy with fresh tears, her chin trembling.
“You stayed,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the monitors.
“I wasn’t going anywhere, Dolcezza,” I murmured. The anger that had been burning in my chest just moments before softened into something much more dangerous: devotion.
Why was I acting like this?
“Besides, everyone thought we were together now. It would have looked worse if I hadn’t.” I joked, and it finally made her smile.
I leaned down further, pressing a kiss to her lips. I felt her weak, shaky hand find the sleeve of my jacket and cling to it as if it were a lifeline.
“I was afraid you were stuck with me, Dolcezza,” I whispered against her skin. “Whether you liked it or not.”
She let out a tiny, broken breath that might have been a laugh if she hadn’t been in so much pain. “I think... I think I liked it.”
I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, my thumb grazing her cheekbone. For a second, the world outside that room, the paparazzi, the scandal, the inevitable fury of her brother, didn’t exist.
It was just us.
“Good,” I said. “Now sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
∞∞∞
Four Months Later
The flashbulbs were constant now, but they didn’t feel like gunfire anymore. They felt more like a shield those days.
We were sitting in the back of a limo, leaving a gala in Puerto Madero.
For the last eight weeks, we had "owned" the rumors.
We were the most talked-about couple in Argentina.
It was the only way to save her career. To turn a drunken scandal into a high-profile romance.
If we were "in love," the kiss, the crash was a tragedy of passion, not a lapse in her judgment.
Mateo had almost had a heart attack when Sol suggested the narrative, but ultimately agreed, as it was the easiest route for Katarina to return to her career.
Katarina leaned her head on my shoulder, her fingers playing with the cuff of my sleeve. She looked healthy again, though a small scar still traced her brow.
“Sol says the bookings are back up,” she murmured. “The romance angle worked. Thank you for doing this. I know you hate the attention.”
“It keeps you safe,” I said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s all that matters.”
She shifted until her face was inches from mine. The air between us thickened as she slid her hand higher on my thigh before grinning like a little devil.
“Damiano…”
The way she said my name—soft, needy—made me inhale sharply. Just hearing that made me hard like a rock.
I pulled her onto my lap. Our mouths crashed together, hungry and familiar. She tasted like champagne and the lipstick she’d worn all night. My hands slid under her dress, gripping her thighs as she rocked against me.
“Fuck, Kat,” I groaned against her lips. “You look so good on top of me.”
She moaned softly, grinding down on the hard line of my cock through my pants. Her fingers worked my belt open with ease as I bit her lower lip. I pushed her dress up to her waist and slid her panties aside.
She was already wet. I stroked her with two fingers, slow at first, then faster when she whimpered into my mouth.
“Damiano… please…”
I freed myself as she bit open a condom wrapper and slid it on my cock. Then I guided her down onto me in one smooth motion. She gasped, nails digging into my shoulders as she took me deep. The limo rocked slightly with her movements. I gripped her hips, guiding her to ride harder, deeper.
We moved together as we had so many times before—urgent, addictive, borderline desperate. Her breath hitched with every thrust. I buried my face in her neck, biting down just enough to make her moan louder.
“It feels so good,” she whispered, voice breaking.
I thrust up harder, chasing the feeling I knew I shouldn’t want this much. She clenched around me, trembling as she came with a soft cry. I followed right after, groaning her name as I finished.
For a few moments, we stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, breathing hard.
Then reality crashed back in.
She stayed on my lap, still joined with me, and looked into my eyes.
“I can’t keep pretending this is just for the tabloids,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I’m in love with you. Please… tell me if you feel it too.”
The silence that followed felt like a blade.
I wanted to tell her the truth. That I had fallen for her the night I saw her first. That every moment since had been real.
But I couldn’t.
I didn’t want to pull her into danger that I knew would only hurt her again.
“You’re right,” I said, voice flat. “We can’t keep doing this.”
I watched the hope die in her eyes as I gently lifted her off me and fixed my clothes.
“I am not the man you think I am,” I continued. “I don’t think you’re in love either. Maybe it’s just because we’ve been around each other too much.”
“That’s not true,” she whispered, lips trembling.
“Then you love a version of me I let you see, Kat.” I looked at her, turning my face cold. “I don’t do happily ever after. I can’t give you what you want.”
“Stop pushing me away,” she whispers.
“I’m sorry.”
Just then, the car stopped at her building. She took a shaky breath, jaw tight, fighting to hold herself together. She wiped her cheeks and reached for the door.
“I see. Then you’re right. We can’t do this anymore.” She says before she stepped out of the limo. I watched her walk away with her shoulders straight, even though I knew she was breaking apart.
The door closed, and I sat there in the dark, hands clenched. My heart was breaking into a thousand pieces.
“You fucking asshole,” I muttered to myself as I watched her disappear.