Chapter 7 LINES WE DON'T CROSS

The De Luca boardroom was a cathedral of intimidation-glass walls, black marble floors, and a round table so long it demanded submission. At the head sat Matteo, polished in a charcoal suit, jaw tight, hands steepled. To his right, Lucia.

She wore a deep navy dress, understated but elegant. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek twist, her posture as regal as any heiress. But inside, her stomach was a storm.

Whispers swirled across the table. Half the board barely concealed their disdain. The other half eyed her like she was a pawn yet to be placed.

Vitale Rossi, silver-haired and sharp-eyed, cleared his throat. "We appreciate everyone making time for this emergency session. The recent media flare-up surrounding Mr. De Luca's... unannounced marriage... has raised concerns."

Matteo didn't blink. "My marriage is legal, valid, and in accordance with company image regulations."

Vitale smiled coldly. "Legal, yes. But strategic? That remains to be seen."

Lucia stiffened. Matteo's fingers twitched beneath the table.

Vitale continued, "In an age of shareholder skepticism, sudden changes-particularly those tied to personal life-raise alarms. Investors crave stability."

"And what," Matteo asked, his voice calm but steely, "suggests I am unstable?"

Carla's voice sliced in like a knife. She was seated two chairs down, lips painted blood red, perfectly composed.

"Your history of unpredictability. Including breaking a long-standing engagement with no warning and installing a... farmer's daughter in your home within days."

Gasps rippled.

Lucia turned slowly. "Would you like to repeat that, Ms. Rossi?"

Carla's smile tightened. "Did I misspeak?"

Lucia stood.

Every pair of eyes locked onto her, many widening in surprise. Matteo's lips parted slightly-but he said nothing.

"Let me be clear," Lucia said, her voice crisp. "I did not install myself anywhere. I was invited. Married, legally. And if you think a humble origin makes me unworthy of this seat, then you're welcome to challenge my value-in public. On record. I assure you, the media would love to discuss corporate elitism right now."

Someone near the end of the table shifted uncomfortably.

Lucia pressed forward. "I may not have a trust fund or a last name printed in blood, but I know loyalty. I know work. I know what it means to build something and fight to keep it alive. Can any of you say the same without hiding behind your surnames?"

A moment of stunned silence.

Then, Matteo leaned back in his chair-eyes sharp, mouth twitching at the corners.

Vitale cleared his throat. "That's quite the speech."

"It wasn't a speech," Lucia said. "It was a warning."

Flashback: The Fire Before the Fall

After the meeting, Matteo didn't speak until they were alone in the elevator.

"You didn't have to do that," he said quietly.

"I did."

"You just stared down a board of billionaires."

Lucia looked at him. "And?"

He smirked. "And I think they might be afraid of you now."

"Good."

He watched her for a moment-too long. Then he said, "You remind me of someone."

"Carla?" she asked, more bitterly than she intended.

"No," he replied. "My mother."

Lucia blinked.

"She didn't come from wealth either. She was fierce. Protective. The only person who ever truly challenged my father."

"And what happened to her?"

"She died. Alone. After he traded her in for someone... more acceptable to the family."

Lucia's heart twisted. "I'm sorry."

Matteo looked away. "Don't be. I only tell you that because I see it happening again. And I swore I'd never let it."

The elevator opened, but neither of them moved.

Lucia stepped out first.

Later that evening, Matteo returned to his private study. He locked the door and poured a glass of scotch, the kind reserved for victories. Or ghosts.

He sat, opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled out an envelope.

Inside were old photographs-him and Carla, smiling at galas. Him, standing beside her at a funeral. One picture showed her asleep against his shoulder on a plane.

He stared at it longer than he wanted to.

There was a time he thought he'd marry her.

Until he saw the way she manipulated board votes behind his back. Until she offered to cover up her father's embezzlement in exchange for marriage. Until she looked him in the eyes and said, "Love is for people who can afford to lose."

That's when he knew-he couldn't love her.

Because he couldn't afford to lose again.

He burned the photos in the fireplace, one by one.

Lines Begin to Blur

It was nearly midnight when Lucia emerged from her room in a silk nightdress, long cardigan wrapped around her arms. She found Matteo seated in the drawing room, half in shadow, sipping something dark.

"You're up late," she said softly.

"So are you."

She hesitated, then joined him on the sofa. He offered her a glass. She declined.

"You burned something," she said, noting the faint scent of ash.

He nodded. "Old lies."

"Do they burn clean?"

"No," he admitted. "But it's a start."

She looked at him, the firelight softening the sharp angles of his face.

"This was never supposed to get complicated," she whispered.

"No," he said. "But it always does."

There was a long pause.

Then, as if drawn by something neither of them fully understood, they turned toward each other.

Lucia's hand brushed his. His thumb grazed her wrist. The heat between them shifted-changed.

He leaned closer. She didn't move.

Their lips were inches apart.

"Matteo..." she breathed.

He froze. "We shouldn't."

"I know."

Still, neither moved.

His breath was warm against her mouth. Her fingers curled slightly at the base of his neck.

Then-

His phone buzzed.

The moment snapped.

He pulled back, jaw tight, cursing softly as he glanced at the screen. "It's the board. Emergency media response. They want a joint interview tomorrow."

Lucia stood, heart pounding, mask sliding back into place. "Of course they do."

She turned and walked to the door.

"Lucia."

She stopped but didn't face him.

"I would've kissed you," he said, voice hoarse. "If we weren't pretending."

She looked over her shoulder. "And I would've let you."