42 | I care too fucking much
The housekeepers have already placed my suitcases in the car since I finished packing.
Now, I'm heading to Aurelia's bedroom to check on her and see if she needs help carrying her suitcase or bags.
I make my way through the living room and toward the stairs. On the second floor, I walk to Aurelia's bedroom, glancing at my wristwatch, we need to leave soon for the private jet.
My fingers hover just above Aurelia's door, ready to knock, when I hear voices from the other side.
"I'll stay here. You go, do what you need to do. But I can't go with you. It'll only make things worse," Franco's voice comes through.
A slow, burning sensation coils inside my chest. My hand clenches into a fist at my side.
"No... I had so many things planned for us, Franco. We could visit the beach. Wine tasting. I thought-" Aurelia's voice is soft, almost pleading.
Something inside me cracks.
"Aurelia, I want to do all those things too, and I know this might sound harsh, but you understand that in Italy, you'll be with Luciano and his family.
You'll have to take on the role of his wife, and you'll likely stay at his family home the entire weekend.
Of course, maybe he'll take you to the beach, maybe he'll do a wine tasting if you ask him. "
My grip tightens.
That bastard. That bastard. He's talking like he's the one meant to be with her. Like I'm the outsider.
The rage I've been suppressing threatens to surface, but I don't move. I stay rooted in place, listening, knowing I'm about to hear something I won't be able to forget.
"I know," Aurelia says after a long pause. "But I still wish... that the one I was married to was you, Franco. You're better than Luciano."
The words slice through me like a blade, deep and unrelenting.
I feel my heart stop.
Aurelia's voice is so raw, so open. She means it. She fucking means it.
Franco's response is quiet, too quiet for someone who just stole the breath from my lungs. "I get it, Aurelia. Our timing was just never right."
Our timing.
I feel sick.
It's not just her. He feels it too.
They've always had something between them, haven't they? Something I refused to see, something I ignored. But now, hearing it so plainly, hearing her say it with no hesitation...
I hate this feeling. This gut-wrenching, possessive rage that tightens its hold around my throat. I've never felt this way before, not even with Ciara. She could have thrown herself at other men, and I wouldn't have cared.
But Aurelia?
I care.
I care too fucking much.
The silence in the room drags, stretching like a noose, suffocating me. Then Franco's voice breaks through. "Let me take this suitcase to the car."
Footsteps approach the door as the door swings open.
Franco freezes. Aurelia stills.
I stand there, staring at them both.
I don't know what my face looks like, but judging by the way Aurelia's eyes widen, the way Franco tenses, I know I must look terrifying.
"Luciano," she breathes, like she wasn't expecting me. Like she didn't just shatter something inside me.
My gaze stays on her, then flicks to Franco, who doesn't fucking look away.
Everything around us fades.
All I can hear is her voice in my head, over and over again.
"I still wish... that the one I was married to was you, Franco. You're better than Luciano."
I should say something.
I should turn and walk away before I do something I regret.
But I can't. Because in this moment, I realize something with complete, terrifying clarity.