Chapter 5 - When the Contract Became a LieThe kiss changed nothing.
And everything.
The next morning, Claire found Vittorio at breakfast reading financial reports as though he had not kissed her against his office door twelve hours earlier.
She poured coffee.
He said, “Good morning.”
She stared.
“Good morning?”
Vittorio looked up.
“Yes.”
“That’s all?”
“What would you prefer?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe acknowledging that you kissed me.”
His expression remained maddeningly calm.
“I remember.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Elena is in the room.”
Claire turned.
Elena was arranging fruit at the counter.
Without looking around, she said, “I am sixty-two years old. I know what kissing is.”
Claire nearly dropped her cup.
Vittorio actually smiled.
Later, when they were alone, his seriousness returned.
“Last night should not have happened.”
Claire’s stomach sank.
“Interesting, because you seemed fairly involved.”
“I am not saying I regret it.”
“Sounds exactly like regret.”
He stood.
“The agreement was designed to protect both of us.”
“From kissing?”
“From attachment.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“Your contract can control money. It can’t control feelings.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
She looked at him.
“You’re scared.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Do not reduce this to fear.”
“Why not? That’s what it is.”
“Claire.”
“You lost people once. They betrayed you. So now you’ve decided needing someone is dangerous.”
His jaw tightened.
“You know very little about what I have decided.”
“I know you kissed me because you thought someone might hurt me.”
“I kissed you because I wanted to.”
The words stopped her.
Vittorio stepped closer.
“And that,” he said quietly, “is far more dangerous.”
Claire’s pulse raced.
“Why?”
“Because wanting becomes needing.”
“And?”
“Need creates leverage.”
“Love isn’t a hostile takeover, Vittorio.”
“Sometimes it is worse.”
Claire shook her head.
“I’m not Adriana.”
“I know.”
“Then stop punishing me for what she did.”
Something broke behind his eyes.
He turned away.
Claire left.
For three days, they avoided each other.
Meanwhile, investigators examined the photograph.
Security footage had been deleted from one hallway.
Someone inside the villa had helped.
Vittorio questioned every employee personally.
Claire hated seeing suspicion infect a household that had begun to feel warm.
On the fourth day, an arrest was made.
Not inside the villa.
At Rome’s airport.
The suspect was Carlo Rossetti.
Bianca’s younger brother.
Claire stared at Vittorio when he told her.
“Bianca’s brother?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he threaten me?”
“We don’t know.”
Carlo worked for one of Moretti Holdings’ competitors and had recently lost a major port contract worth sixty million euros.
Police discovered messages on his phone discussing Claire.
But something did not fit.
“Why put a photograph in my bedroom?” Claire asked.
“To frighten me.”
“He could have mailed it.”
Vittorio looked at her.
“What are you suggesting?”
“That Carlo didn’t act alone.”
They were right.
Two nights later, Claire woke to smoke.
At first she thought she was dreaming.
Then the alarm screamed.
She sat upright.
Orange light flickered beneath her door.
Fire.
Claire ran toward it, but when she grabbed the handle it would not turn.
Locked.
From outside.
Panic exploded.
“Help!”
Smoke curled beneath the door.
“Help!”
She grabbed a chair and smashed it against the window.
The glass cracked but did not break.
The flames outside intensified.
Claire coughed.
Then someone slammed into the door from the hallway.
Once.
Twice.
A third impact shattered the frame.
Vittorio came through smoke.
“Claire!”
He wrapped his jacket around her.
“What happened?”
“Someone locked it.”
His expression turned murderous.
He pulled her against him and guided her through the corridor.
A ceiling beam collapsed behind them.
Claire screamed.
Vittorio covered her with his body until they reached the stairs.
Outside, staff gathered on the lawn while firefighters raced toward the villa.
Claire could barely breathe.
Vittorio held her so tightly it hurt.
She did not ask him to stop.
Hours later, investigators determined the fire had been deliberate.
Accelerant.
The lock had been jammed externally.
Someone had tried to kill her.
That morning Claire sat in a guesthouse wrapped in a blanket.
Vittorio stood by the window talking to police.
Blood stained his shirt.
Claire noticed.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Your shoulder is bleeding.”
A falling piece of wood had cut him.
He resisted the doctor until Claire threatened to treat it herself using sewing scissors.
He surrendered.
Afterward, they were alone.
Vittorio sat on the bed.
Claire stood before him.
“This happened because of me,” he said.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t start the fire.”
“My life put you in that room.”
“My father put me in this life.”
Vittorio closed his eyes.
“I should release you from the contract.”
Claire’s chest tightened.
“What?”
“I will honor everything concerning your father. You can return to America.”
“That’s what you want?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Claire’s throat tightened.
“Then why say it?”
“Because keeping you here after this would be selfish.”
She stepped closer.
“Maybe the decision isn’t yours.”
His eyes lifted.
Claire took his hand.
“I could leave.”
“Yes.”
“But I’m not going to.”
“Why?”
Because she loved him.
She knew it suddenly.
Terrifyingly.
Completely.
But Claire was not ready to say the words.
“Because someone tried to kill me,” she said, “and I want to know why.”
Vittorio searched her face.
“And after we find out?”
Claire squeezed his hand.
“We’ll figure that out afterward.”
May you like
Neither of them noticed the figure watching from the olive grove.
Nor the small camera lens aimed directly at the guesthouse window.
Related Stories
