Chapter 5

　　The morning sunlight spilled through the grand windows of the Virelli mansion, painting the dining hall in golden warmth. Sofia had barely managed to calm herself after yesterday's events. No matter how hard she couldn't shake off how he ogled her during last night's celebratory dinner. His gaze was intense, unwavering and burning like a mark she couldn't wipe away.

　　She touched her lips and a cold shiver ran through her as she recalled how his lips moved against hers, demanding and dominant. No matter how terrifying he had become, her foolish heart still reacted to him. She could have pushed him away but she just couldn't. She was sure that kiss was not meant for her because at first Luca thought she was just a new maid. She had heard about his reputation of being a playboy. He was also cruel, heartless and dangerous. But why does this realization hurt her so much? Her chest tightened with an ache she couldn't put into words. She was almost sure this was just her childish infatuation with him. She was once a naive little girl who imagined him as his Prince Charming. But now she's mature enough to understand that he is her brother. A foster brother, but her brother nonetheless. Then and there she decided not to let this infatuation overpower her sense of reasoning.

　　A sudden knock disturbed the cascade of her thoughts and she quickly composed herself. The door creaked open and Valentina stepped in with a warm smile " good morning Sof, let's go downstairs for breakfast and later we go shopping at my favorite boutique. Remember I still have to show you around since you might have forgotten some places" and she nodded with a small smile "okay, but promise me we're not over doing the shopping because I know you're a monster when it comes to shopping Val". Valentina gave her a smirk and said "No promises sister" and then they both went downstairs for breakfast.

　　The room was lively, the atmosphere filled with lighthearted chatter… until the doors opened.

　　Luca.

　　As always, he entered last.

　　The chatter paused. Glasses were set down a little too carefully. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. Everyone in the room knew the history between him and Sofia: childhood tension, years of distance, unspoken grudges.

　　She felt her pulse spike as his dark gaze swept through the room… then settled on her.

　　Not briefly. Not casually.

　　It lingered.

　　Her fork trembled slightly in her hand. She forced herself to look down, her chest tightening. Valentina nudged her gently, whispering, "Ignore him… just enjoy breakfast."

　　But it was impossible.

　　Luca's presence was magnetic and suffocating all at once. Every glance, every tilt of his head carried weight, control, and something far more dangerous than she could name.

　　He had deliberately joined them for breakfast that morning because he just wanted to see her face. He hadn't had a glimpse of her face that morning and somehow it was driving him insane.

　　His gaze followed every single action of hers and he couldn't help but think if she also feels the sexual tension or if she was feeling guilty for kissing her brother. "Fuck! He hated to call himself her brother. He never accepted her as a sister, but this time it's completely different" he thought.

　　The conversation faltered for Sofia. Words that had felt so easy before now seemed to stick in her throat. She tried to speak to Valentina about her plans for the day, about classes she had finished in London, but the sentences refused to form properly.

　　Finally, unable to endure the intensity any longer, she mumbled, "Excuse me," and rose from her seat, retreating back to her room.

　　"I'm not saying you need a whole new wardrobe," Valentina said, holding a dress up against Sofia and tilting her head with the focused assessment of someone who took this very seriously. "I'm saying London has been dressing you in beige for four years and I refuse to allow it to continue."

　　Sofia looked down at herself. "This isn't beige."

　　"It's adjacent to beige."

　　"It's cream."

　　"Sofia." Valentina lowered the dress and gave her a look. "I love you. This is an intervention."

　　Sofia laughed. The real one — not the polished careful version she sometimes used when she was thinking about something else entirely. The one that came from somewhere unguarded and made her eyes do that thing where they went warm all the way through.

　　Valentina had been collecting evidence of that laugh all morning like someone building a case.

　　Evidence item one — Sofia was not fine.

　　She hadn't said anything obviously wrong. She had eaten Elena's breakfast and answered Matteo's forty questions and smiled at all the right moments and been, by every observable measure, perfectly happy to be home.

　　But Valentina had known this girl since she was seven years old.

　　She knew the difference between Sofia happy and Sofia performing happy while quietly carrying something she had decided not to put down.

　　She also noticed how Sofia had gone carefully, deliberately still every time Luca walked into the room. How she had looked at her plate with the focused attention of someone who had decided the plate was the only safe place to look.

　　Valentina loved her brother. She did. Luca was — Luca. Complicated and controlled and capable of a loyalty so fierce it occasionally expressed itself as frightening. She understood him in the way you understand someone you have watched your entire life even when they don't let you close enough to truly know them.

　　But she had also watched Sofia carry something quiet and unspoken for more years than was fair.

　　And she had watched Luca be indifferent to it in the specific way of someone who had decided indifference was easier than its alternative.

　　So. Shopping. Because Valentina Virelli dealt with complicated emotional situations the way she dealt with most things — by finding something actionable and doing it immediately.

　　"Try this one," she said, holding out a deep burgundy dress that she was absolutely certain about.

　　Sofia took it with the expression of someone being mildly processed.

　　"I have clothes," Sofia said.

　　"You have beige."

　　"We established it's cream—"

　　"Dressing room. Now. I don't make the rules."

　　"You literally only make rules—"

　　"Now, Sofia."