Caterina
“So?” The landlord’s voice booms from the doorway, his massive frame blocking most of the hallway light. He’s got his thumbs hooked into his belt loops like some kind of cowboy, and I can practically feel the pressure radiating off him. “What do you think?”
I turn from the windows, buying myself a few seconds. “It’s nice. Really nice, actually.”
“Nice?” He steps further into the studio, and suddenly the space feels smaller. “It’s a steal for this neighborhood. Brand new appliances, fresh laminate flooring, completely renovated bathroom. You won’t find better in this price range.”
*Subtle.*
“The windows are great,” I offer, gesturing at the wall of glass overlooking the street. “Lots of natural light.”
“South-facing,” he says, like he’s closing a deal. “You’ll get sun all day long.”
I walk toward the kitchen area—if you can call a two-burner stove and a mini-fridge a kitchen—running my hand along the pristine countertop. Everything’s so clean it squeaks. Not a speck of grout staining or rust anywhere. The bathroom’s the same—gleaming white tile, modern fixtures, zero signs of the usual rental apartment grime.
“I can see myself here,” I admit, because it’s true. The couch against that wall, my bed in the corner by the windows, maybe a folding screen to create some separation…
“Good.” He claps his hands together, the sound sharp in the empty space. “Because I’ll be straight with you—I’ve got three other candidates who’ve already looked at the place. All interested. All ready to sign.”
My stomach tightens. “Three?”
“Three.” He nods, his expression carefully neutral. “I’m not trying to rush you, but this unit won’t last. Not at this price, not in this location.”
Classic pressure tactic. Dad would see right through this.
“What’s the move-in process?” I ask, stalling.
“First and last month’s rent upfront. Security deposit.” He pulls out his phone, scrolling through something. “I already ran your credit application—came back clean. Honestly, you could sign the lease right now if you wanted. I’ve got the paperwork in my car.”
The walls feel like they’re closing in. “Right now?”
“Why not?” He shrugs, all casual confidence. “Everything’s in order. You like the place. I’ve got availability. Seems pretty straightforward to me.”
Fuck. This is too fast.
“I need time to think about it.” The words come out more defensive than I intended.
His expression shifts—just for a second, a flash of annoyance crosses his face before he smooths it away. “How much time?”
“Until tomorrow morning?”
He exhales through his nose, checking his phone again. “I’ll be in my office by nine. But I’m telling you, this place is going to move fast. If one of those other candidates calls me tonight with a decision—”
“I understand.” I cut him off, already moving toward the door. “I’ll call you first thing. I promise.”
My footsteps echo off the laminate as I cross the studio, imagining furniture placement one last time. The couch here, bed there, maybe some string lights to make it feel less sterile…
“Thank you so much for showing me the place,” I say, forcing brightness into my voice. “I really am interested. I just need to—”
“You don’t need to explain.” He’s already pulling out his keys, clearly ready to move on to the next prospect. “I get it. Big decision. Just don’t wait too long.”
He locks the door behind us, and I follow him down the narrow stairwell to the street. The late afternoon sun hits me first, then the noise—traffic, conversation, the distant bark of a dog. Across the street, cute shops with apartments stacked on top line the block. A girl walks past with two dogs on leashes, and a couple pushing a stroller stops to let their toddler reach for the pups. Everyone’s smiling. It’s disgustingly wholesome.
And I kind of love it.
This is what I wanted, right? The whole independent adult thing. Walking to the corner store, having a dozen restaurants within blocks, seeing the same faces every day, building a life that’s mine. No more forty-minute commute. No more…
No more Gianni.
The thought hits me like a fist to the chest.
Leaving this apartment means leaving him. And standing here, watching the landlord disappear into his ground-floor office, I realize that’s what’s been making my stomach twist this whole time. Not the pressure, not the decision itself—the fact that I don’t actually want to leave.
Fuck.
“So? What did you think?” The voice comes from my left, cold and familiar. “Are you moving in?”
My entire body goes rigid. No. No fucking way.
I spin around, and there he is—Luciano, sitting on the front stoop of the building next door like he’s been waiting. Like he knew exactly where I’d be.
He followed me.
The realization makes my skin crawl.
“What do you want?” The words come out as a growl, low and dangerous. “And why the hell did you bother my dad? Can’t you get it through your thick skull that we’re done?”
He stands slowly, brushing off the back of his shorts. He’s wearing his gym’s logo T-shirt—did he come straight from work to stalk me?
“With that attitude,” he says, all wounded pride, “I assume you don’t want to hear what I have to say?”
“Why would I care what you have to say?” I’m practically vibrating with rage now. “I listened to you for years. I bought every lie, every excuse, every bullshit story you fed me. You hung the moon in my eyes. Not anymore. I’m done. We’re done.”
His mouth puckers like he’s tasted something sour. “I guess you thought Friday night was pretty funny, didn’t you?” He steps closer, and despite the busy sidewalk, despite the full daylight, warning bells start ringing in my head. “Who was that guy?”
I back up instinctively. “None of your business.”
“I care about what’s good for you, Caterina—”
“You’re not any better of a liar than you were a boyfriend.”
His chest puffs out, all offended masculinity. “I’m serious.”
“Congratulations. It’s about time you gave a shit.” The laugh that rips out of me is sharp enough to cut. “Because you sure as hell didn’t when we were together. All it took was me dumping you to suddenly make me interesting again.”
“This isn’t funny—”
“You’re right. It’s not funny. It’s pathetic.” The words are pouring out now, five years of resentment bubbling to the surface. “For five years, you did whatever you wanted while I waited around like some kind of loyal puppy. You know why Tatiana’s my only real friend? Because she was too stubborn to let you push her away. Everyone else gave up trying to reach me through your bullshit control tactics. But you? You had complete freedom. No questions asked. So don’t you dare stand there and pretend you give a single shit about what’s right for me.”
Something shifts in his expression—something ugly. “Listen to you.” His gaze rakes down my body, predatory and possessive. “I’m almost surprised by the outburst. But not really. Not given all that rough company you’re keeping lately.”
My blood turns to ice.
No. He doesn’t know. He can’t know about Gianni.
“Maybe I just grew up,” I snap, keeping my voice steady through sheer force of will. “Maybe I finally see things clearly.”
“You see things clearly?” His laugh is cruel. “Good. Because I have something for you.”
He reaches into his leather bag, and my entire nervous system screams run. My muscles coil, ready to bolt across the street, into traffic, anywhere—
But he pulls out a manila envelope.
“This is for you.”
My heart’s hammering so hard I can barely hear my own voice. “What is it?”
“Open it and find out.” He holds it out, and his fake gentleness makes me want to punch him. “Take it. It’s for your own good.”
“You don’t have the first clue what’s good for me.” I snatch the envelope from his hand, shoving it into my tote bag without looking. “There. Happy?”
“Don’t you want to know what’s inside?”
“Not really.”
His smirk is poison. “You’ll feel differently once you see the proof. I have to wonder—what would your dear old dad think if he knew who you’ve been spending time with?”
The world tilts sideways.
He knows. Somehow, he fucking knows.
But I keep my face blank, channeling every poker face I learned from Dad. “Get a life, Luciano. I’m not your problem anymore.”
He actually has the audacity to look hurt. “Don’t you get it? I can’t leave you alone.”
“I don’t care what you can or can’t do.” I try to step around him. “Leave me alone, or you’ll regret it.”
He cuts me off, his body suddenly pressed against mine, trapping me against the brick wall of the building. His face is inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin.
“No fucking way,” I whisper.
But he’s already leaning in, his lips moving toward mine—