Chapter 68 – Empty Rooms
Dante The University of Oslo’s website glowed on my serven at three in the morning, pristine and professional, everything laid out in perfect order. The Master of Public Policy program’s acceptance rate hovered at twelve percent. Their endowment totaled just over four billion Norwegian krone A pittance, really, I could quadruple that with one phone call.
My finger hovered over Marco’s number as calculations ran through my mind. The right pressure points, the correct leverage applied with surgical precision Universities always needed funding. Always had weak spots that could be exploited.
The screen blurred slightly as I reached for the crystal tumbler on my desk. The scotch–aged thirty years, perfectly balanced notes of nak and smoke–tasted like ash
What the hell was I doine
I closed the browser with more force than necessary, disgust rising in my throat. This wasn’t a business rival I could simply buy out. Not a political opponent whose secrets could be leveraged. This was…
Lucia
My hands clenched on the desk’s polished surface as her name echoed through my mind. Three syllables that had somehow dismantled every careful defense, every calculated barrier I’d spent years constructing
“Mr. Romano?” Taylor’s voice carried carefully neutral through the intercom. Upilates on the situation you requested.”
1 straightened, adjusting my tie with automatic precision. “Come in
like
He entered with characteristic silence, inanila folder in hand. The kind of detailed surveillance report Id ordinarily appreciate. Now it felt like acid in my stomach.
“Miss Valentini Jel the penthouse at 2:15 PM,” he reported, professional as always. Two suitcases and her personal laptop. Martinez followed her to the Valentini estate in North Hilk
The family home. Where she’d grown up, Where she’d first learned to sketch buildings in the margins of her schoolbooks, dreaming of creating something beautiful.
I shouldn’t know these details. Shouldn’t remember them from late–night conversations when her guard was down, when she’d curl against me in the dark and share pieces of herself I’d pretended not to treasure.
“Her foundation office is nearly cleared out. Taylor continued. “The temporary leadership structure begins next week. And the real estate agent in Oslo vent preliminary apartment listings for ”
“Enough.” The word came om sharper than intended. I forced my voice back to careful neutrality. That will be all ”
He hesitated, something almost like concem crossing his usually stośc features. “Sir…if I may!”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the unprecedented breach in protoral,
“In my experience.” he said carefully, sometimes the most valuable assets can’t be secured through conventional means.“
The words hit with unexpected force because he was right this wasn’t something I could control through my usual methods. Couldn’t fix with money or power or perfectly executed strategy
This required something far more terrifying
“You’re dismissed,” I said quietly. He nodded, withdrawing i
with charneristic discretion.
The penthouse felt different as I moved through its carefully ordered spaces. Emptier, though nothing bad physically changed. Everything remained in its precise place–artwork perfectly centered, furniture arranged at exact angles, not a cushion out of alignment.
Everything except her.
I found myself outside her door before conscious thought registered. The handle turned smoothly under my grip, allowing me into space that still held echoes of her presence.
Her scent lingered that subtle mix of jasmine and something uniquely her that used to cling to my sheets. A half–empty coffee cup sat on the pristine drafting table, lipstick stains marking the rim. Red. Like the dress she’d worn that first night.
Like the blood in my mouth as 1 bit back words that could have inde her stay.
The words fell into empry air, too late and too quiet. Three syllables in our mother tongue that could have changed everything
But I hadn’t said them when it mattered. Hadn’t been able to crack my perfect control enough to admit the trudi – dit somewhere between contract and chaos, between her fire and my ice, I’d fallen completely, terrifyingly in love.
My phone buzzed. Another message from the campaign manager about tomorrow’s press conference, Another crisis requiring the perfect response. Another performance of the controlled, calculated leader everyone expected
Lignored in
Instead, I found myself touching the sketches she left pinned to her idea board. Preliminary designs for the youth center expansion. Dreams of creating safe spares for kids who had nothing. Her heart, expressed in clean lines and careful measurements.
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Chapter 63 – Empty R
Rooms
Everything about her was a study in beautiful contradiction. Precise architectural skill wrapped around passionate idealism. Sharp business actimen tempered by genuine compassion. Fire and grace and strength all contained in one remarkable woman who’d somehow slipped past every defense
usual weapons.
And Ed lost her. Not to a business mal or political enemy. Not to any force I could fight with my
I’d lost her to my own carefully maintained control. To the tealls I’d built so high i couldn’t find my way over them even when it mattered most,
The realization hit like physical pain, making my hands clench on her drafting table. The same table where I’d almost kissed her that first morning she moved in. Where I’d watched her work late into the night, hair messy and eyes light with creative fire. Where I’d stood silently in the doorway countless times, watching her pour her heart into designs that would make the world a little better.
“Sir?” Martinez’s voice carried through my earpiece. The campaign manager is becoming insistem about tomorrow’s schedule.
Trouched the empty coffee cup one last time, remembering how she used to bring me perfectly prepared espresso in the mornings. Not bechise the contract required it. Not because it was politically expedient. Simply because she’d noticed I got headaches without.caffeine.
A thousand little moments of genuine care Id pretended not to notice. A thousand opportunities to say those three words that now burned in my
throat.
“Sir? Your response.”
I straightened my tie, my voice returning to careful control “Tell him Ill be there.”
The perfect candidate. The calculated leader, The man who never lost control.
But as I closed her door behind me, those unsaid words echoed in the emptiness she’d left behind.
Tiamo, mia cara. Ti amo.
Too little, too late.
I had three weeks und she left for Oslo. Three weeks to either find the courage to shatter my own walls, or lose her forever.
If I could find the courage to speak it.
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