Chapter Forty-seven
NINA
Present Day
ITALY
“Do you actually want a jet?” Ronan asked, catching me completely off guard.
Yesterday, during my flight back home, I marveled at the comfort and luxury, which was an experience unlike any I’d ever had. In jest, I’d told the flight attendant I needed a jet. Little did I know she would relay my words to Ronan, and now we were on the phone talking about jets.
How great.
“No, Ronan,” I sighed. “It was a joke.”
“If you ever need one—”
“I will not need one,” I interjected. “I’m fine flying commercial.”
“It’s your world,” he countered. “If you want a jet, I’ll get you a jet.”
“Ronan Emanuel Romano,” I said sharply.
“Nina Chiara Moretti,” he mimicked in the same tone.
We spent the next ten minutes volleying back and forth over this jet argument until he finally relented.
“Fine, no jet. But make a promise?”
“I have to know what the promise is first,” I replied, wary.
“If you’re ever planning on traveling, tell me first so you can use my jet,” Ronan said smoothly over the phone.
“You’ve been back in my life, what?” I asked, thinking of the time. “A year? And you’re already bossing me around.”
“Fifteen months, three weeks, and four days,” he corrected, his precision making me almost choke.
“Precise much?” I asked, astonished. “How do you always remember these things?”
“Oh, mia cuore,” he replied warmly. “When it comes to you, nothing is worth forgetting.”
I blushed deeply, my cheeks burning with heat. Anyone walking into my office right now would think I was sweltering, given how much I was blushing.
Glancing at the clock, I realized that despite wanting to stay on the phone with him all day, I had deadlines to meet.
“I hate to cut this short,” I said reluctantly, “but I’ve got some serious work to do.”
“I have something to do in about ten minutes, so I should get going too.”
“Goodbye, Ro,” I said.
“Ro? I’ve graduated from Ronan,” he chirped. “What a great day to be alive.”
I laughed. “Don’t make me regret saying it.”
“I don’t ever want to make you regret anything,” he countered. “Goodbye, tesoro.”
“Bye, bello.” I hung up and immediately called Inaya into the office. We started going through the files thoroughly. My mind had been a bit dazed on the flight, so I was sure I had missed quite a few details.
The precision with which he prepared this file was absolutely perfect. Somehow, he knew to make the fonts neither too small for my eyes nor too large, avoiding a tacky appearance.
There were around eighty personal profiles with detailed backgrounds, and while I suspected some info was gathered unethically, Ronan’s words echoed in my mind: “It’s better to know the whole truth about somebody than half of it.” I couldn’t agree more.
Our new boutique was three times the size of our current space, and with the upcoming interview with the Eminence team, collaboration requests were already flooding in.
Self-doubt crept in, but I breathed through it, leaning on my loved ones’ support—especially Ronan’s.
Even during the years when I could only dream of moments like this, he made me feel capable.
In his eyes, the world was mine for the taking, and if something was out of reach, he’d shift the solar system to make sure it was mine.
“How many staff do we need?” Inaya asked, concern in her eyes. “That place is huge.”
“I’m thinking of twenty as a trial,” I said. “I’ll move three of our seamstresses from here to New York. All expenses covered, of course. We’ll adjust as needed.”
“That sounds perfect,” she replied, handing me profiles of twenty candidates. “These are my recommendations.”
“I trust your judgment,” I said, taking the files.
“No looking over?” she raised an eyebrow.
“I trust you more than most,” I replied sincerely.
She smiled. “My soul sister. Also, I think we’re at capacity. The next opening for new clients is next year.”
“Really?” I asked, eyes wide.
She laughed, followed by a nod. “With the five-year contract with Eminence and their events, plus Shukr, Modanisa, and Louis Vuitton, we need to filter what we can take and delay what we can’t.”
I gulped, processing the information. Doubt crept in. “Can we handle it all?”
“Nina, you’re a superstar. Yes, we can. I believe in you and your brand. Even he does.”
I smiled at her mention of Ronan, but before I could reply, she continued, “I’ve spaced things out. For now, we’re focusing on Eminence Models and Louis Vuitton for NYFW. Shukr starts in May, Modanisa in late September, and we have other high-profile clients to finish.”
“That’s a good timeline. Thanks for handling this. We need to filter our clients—New York ones can go, and the Italian ones will stay grounded.”
“I’ll organize the client info, and we’ll plan accordingly. Also, are you sketching all the designs?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’ll always be the one to sketch, though others will help make them and match the fabrics.”
“Great. And for the staff here… are we moving people around?” she asked.
“No. Only three are going to New York. You and Francesca will stay in Italy. I’ll probably close the boutique briefly for training.”
We spent the next few hours finalizing the details, making sure everything was set. As Inaya left, I grabbed my phone to text Ronan, but the message didn’t send. I tried calling twice with no response. Odd, but then I remembered he might be in the middle of surgery.
With that settled, I grabbed my new sketchbook and finished the designs. After reviewing them, I sent the file off for approval, hoping for the best.
But my thoughts kept drifting back to Ronan.
It seemed like everything led back to him.
His dedication, care, and unwavering support had been my anchor through everything.
Still, part of me held back, haunted by the past. I could still feel the ache of his absence, the uncertainty that once consumed me.
I told myself this time was different. He was different. But doubt lingered, whispering that I should protect my heart. My mind argued with my emotions, one side urging me to leap, the other to tread carefully. But damn it, he’d done enough. I was ready. I wanted him. I needed him.
A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. “Come in,” I called, quickly setting my sketchpad aside.
Alejandro entered, a smile on his face. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen or spoken to him. He stepped forward, holding a cup of coffee.
“Thought you could use this,” he said gently, offering the cup. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How was New York?”
“Thank you,” I replied, taking the coffee. “It was good. Got a lot done.”
He moved to hug me, but I instinctively stepped back, avoiding the embrace. Alejandro’s face briefly flickered with confusion.
“Long day?” he asked, leaning against my desk.
“Busy day,” I said, sipping the coffee to calm my nerves.
“Anything I can help with?”
I shook my head, glancing at the clock. “It’s work stuff. It’s almost nine. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“Are we friends?” he asked, catching me off guard.
I shot him a confused glance. “Huh?”
“Are we friends?” he repeated.
“Why wouldn’t we be friends?” I replied.
He looked at me, sighed, and I braced myself, hoping this wasn’t heading in the direction I feared.
Ronan
“Should we bring your stuff to the hotel?” Rachel asked as we drove through the streets of Arezzo.
“Yes, please. I’m not sure how long I’ll be,” I replied. “But I’ll call. Rachel, get those files printed for Mrs. De Luca. We’ll head to Milan soon and let my aunt know I’ll be passing by.”
“Perfect. I’ll get it done. Send Nina my best.”
“I will.”
I headed straight to Nina’s boutique, my heart racing. As I approached, I was surprised to find the door open, the soft chime of the bell announcing my entrance.
Were they usually opened this late?
The boutique was bathed in golden light, and I quickly spotted Inaya behind the counter. Her face hardened when she saw me, a mix of surprise and displeasure in her eyes.
Here we go…
She walked over, her steps firm. “You’re getting closer to her, breaking her shell,” she said, her voice low. “You probably already broke it, but don’t break her heart. Please don’t hurt her again. She’s my best friend, and she doesn’t deserve it.”
Her words hit me like a punch, and I steadily met her gaze. “Hurting her is far from my mind,” I said, my voice steady. “I love her, Inaya. More than anything.”
She sighed, a twinkle in her eyes, and turned away as a customer entered. I watched her go, guilt stirring in me. I’d hurt Nina before, but I wouldn’t again.
I stopped at the office door when I heard voices inside. Nina was talking to someone, a man whose tone was filled with frustration.
Fucking Alejandro.
“Why are you acting so strange?” he asked, his voice rising. “Since you saw that guy at the fashion show, you’ve been off.”
“I’m not acting strange,” Nina replied, her voice calm but strained. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“That’s bullshit, Nina!” he snapped. “You’re st—”
I couldn’t listen any longer.
I pushed open the door, entering with a bag of goodies. Nina looked up, surprise flashing across her face.
“Ronan, you’re here,” she said, a mix of relief and confusion in her voice.
“Yes, my love. I am.” I smiled at her, then turned my attention to Alejandro.
I placed the bag on the table, my eyes locked on his.
“The longevity of your lifespan,” I said, my voice cold and menacing, “depends on whether or not you finish that statement.”
Who the fuck was he talking to like that?
He gritted his teeth, glaring at me, before storming out in a fury.
I straightened my suit, the soft click of the door latch echoing his departure. Turning back to Nina, who was still processing, I handed her the bag of goodies with a small smile.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice gentle as I kissed her forehead.
She nodded, trying to stay composed. “I’m fine. How much did you hear?”
“Everything,” I admitted, my tone firm. “But I stepped in because I won’t let anyone talk to the love of my life like that.”