Part 4:

But if he made you uncomfortable, I cannot insist. She touched Seline’s arm lightly. Perhaps we could both visit his home together. No, that way you wouldn’t be alone. Madame Oair turned and walked back toward her office, leaving Seline standing among the paintings, with her thoughts spinning in directions she knew were dangerous.

“Just business,” she thought, the justification forming before she could stop it. “If I sell him a painting, it could be good for my career here, and Madame Oair would be there so I wouldn’t be alone.” The rationalizations came faster now, each one weakening her father’s warnings a little more. Maybe dad is being overprotective.

After all, Alessandro gave me a piano worth more than most cars. He’s been nothing but polite. Maybe I was too harsh with him. She moved toward the window almost without thinking, and her breath caught when she saw Alessandro on the street below, his bodyguards opening the car door as he prepared to leave. No time to overthink this, she realized, her heart suddenly racing with decision.

Selene grabbed a gallery business card from the reception desk and pushed through the front door before courage could abandon her. “Mr. Moretti,” she called out, her voice carrying across the narrow street. “Aleandro turned, surprise flickering across his features before his mouth curved into a smile that made her stomach flip dangerously.

” “Yes, Selene.” She stopped 3 ft away, close enough to see the interest sharpening in his eyes, and forced herself to say the words before panic could stop her. “I’m accepting your dinner invitation. I’ll come tonight with the catalog.” “Don’t mention Madame Oair yet,” some instinct whispered. “He might decline if he knows she’s coming.

” Aleandro’s smile widened, genuine pleasure breaking through his controlled exterior. “I’m very glad to hear that, Selene.” He stepped closer, leaning down until his breath ghosted against her ear, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur. “Be ready at 8. I’ll send a car for you.

” Selene’s pulse kicked hard at his nearness, at the way his cologne surrounded her, cedar and danger, and something darker that made thinking difficult. “Please have it pick me up here at the gallery. Not at the residence.” Aleandro pulled back slightly, understanding flickering in those storm blue eyes, along with something that looked dangerously close to amusement.

He nodded once, his expression saying he knew exactly why she didn’t want her father to see. Though, of course. He turned and slid into the backseat of his car with fluid grace, the door closing with an expensive click, and Seline stood on the street, watching the vehicle disappear around the corner. “What have I just done?” she thought, but underneath the panic was something else.

Anticipation, excitement, the dangerous thrill of stepping off the edge of something she couldn’t take back. She turned and walked back into the gallery, already wondering what she would wear, and whether her father would somehow find out. But most of all, she wondered why the thought of spending an evening with Aleandro Moretti made her feel more alive than she had in months.

Seline texted her father during lunch. Having dinner with Madame Oair tonight. Don’t worry about me. That afternoon she’d bought a red dress on impulse. And now at 7:45 she stood in the gallery’s back office wearing it with her light brown hair pulled into a soft half updo waiting for Madame Oair. Her phone rang. Sherry, I’m so sorry.

My husband is ill. We’re heading to the hospital. You should cancel if you don’t want to go alone. 7:55. The car would arrive in 5 minutes. Seline closed her eyes and drew a slow breath. “I can do this,” she told herself. “He’s my father’s friend. What danger could possibly happen in a few hours over dinner? Headlights swept across the windows as a black car pulled to the curb.

” She grabbed the portfolio and walked out with determined steps. The car climbed Monaco’s winding hillside roads, the city sprawling below in a cascade of lights against the darkening Mediterranean. Seline watched the view through tinted windows, trying to calm her racing pulse. Her phone buzzed suddenly, making her jump, an unknown number.

She opened the message, her eyes widening as she read, “Stay away from him. Turn back now.” Selene’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around the phone until her knuckles went white. “What does this mean?” she thought, pulse hammering in her ears. Who sending these? And how do they know I’m in this car right now? She looked up at the driver’s silhouette, then out at the darkening streets, climbing higher into the hills.

Someone was watching every move she made. The car pulled through iron gates and climbed until Alessandro’s villa appeared, perched above Monaco, like an eagle’s nest. Seline followed a butler through massive wooden doors and stopped. Surprised, the entrance hall was Victorian, all dark wood paneling and antique furniture that belonged in another century.

Not the modern luxury she’d expected. Senior Moretti is waiting upstairs. Seniorina, she climbed the marble staircase, and the second floor opened into something completely different. sophisticated modern design with floor to-seeiling windows framing the Mediterranean. Paintings along the walls that made her heart skip, a long dining table positioned to face the view.

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