Chapter 8 RED FLAGS AND ROSES

VALERIA

One minute, Dante's eye-fucking me from across the seat. Chances are he knows I can see him and doesn't care-or maybe he's clueless I'm aware. Either way, I play along, laughing harder, rolling my shoulders until my sleeve slips... and the next-the call, and then...

"I'll see you later," that's all Dante says before rushing off. Taylor starts the car, and I crane my neck toward the chaos outside,but aside from flashing blue and red lights and a growing crowd, I can't make out much.

The drive home is quiet. I'm halfway to sleep when the door opens and Taylor taps my shoulder.

"We've arrived, ma'am."

"So soon?" I yawn, covering my mouth. He nods and holds the door open. I thank him and head inside.

Silence greets me. My heels echo against the marble floors, each step emphasizing just how empty this place feels. I think of those big houses I used to deliver to back in Colombia-towering pillars, million-dollar art on every wall, and still, the same hollow quiet. They always had one thing in common: the resounding absence of happiness and satisfaction. Now I'm living in one of them.

Dante's emergency leaves me with no choice but to call it a night.

I don't bother locking the door. A small smile tugs at my lips in satisfaction as I take in the room-queen-sized bed, feathered pillows, a well-furnished and beautiful, well-stocked walk-in closet, and my own personal mini spa of a bathroom. For someone who grew up scraping by, what more could a diva like me want?

A lot, actually. But this will do for now.

I sigh, peeling off my clothes slowly, each piece landing to form a small heap. My body cracks as I stretch. Me time, finally. Rihanna's essential playlist blares from my phone, and I heat up the jacuzzi. Warm, scented water wraps around me as the bath bomb fizzes, turning the water dark green and filling the air with jasmine and rose.

Just as I grab the soap, my phone rings. I roll my eyes and reach for it. My mood lifts when I see the name flash on the screen: Diego.

A lump forms in my throat and I gulp, placing my phone against my ear.

"Hello," I whisper, switching to Spanish.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me, Camila," Diego's voice drops, irritation lacing his tone.

Here we go.

I bite my lips, scrambling for an excuse. "Didn't think I was supposed to call so soon. You're the one who said only in emergencies, remember? The two-week rule?" I snap, eyes scanning the room suspiciously.

Diego sighs, voices chattering in the background. "You always have an answer, don't you, Camila? Are you in?"

I smirk. "What do you think?"

I can already picture his frown, and it makes me grin wider.

"Was it that easy? Or is there something I'm missing?" I can tell he's both surprised and suspicious.

I twirl a strand of hair, toes peeling through the bubbles. "Guess you'll just hear the juicy parts when we meet. Told you I could get any man I want, didn't I?"

"You can get anything you put your mind to, Valeria," he corrects dryly. I roll my eyes. Typical Diego-always my hype man.

"Semantics," I click my tongue.

Diego scoffs, mumbling something incoherent in Spanish. "Don't just disappear like that, Camila, you had us worried for days." There it is-the protective nature of my friend resurfacing.

"Tell them I'm sorry," I say in a small voice, letting out a deep sigh. "I didn't have much of a choice, you know. I thought about calling, but it was too risky."

"Do you think he believes you?" Diego asks.

Does he believe me? I ask myself. I try to remember any time Dante has acted suspicious of me or questioned me, and nothing comes to mind.

"He should. I mean, I'm going to be Mrs. Romano soon," I say defensively, surprising both myself and Diego.

There's a brief silence, and I slap my forehead. There, I've done it again... in five, four, three, two, o-

"I remember you sounding this way with a certain Raphael-"

"Shut up, Diego," I bolt upright in the bathtub, water sloshing. I grip the side of the bath rail tight enough to hurt. "You don't have to remind me of that fucker every time I've got something good going."

"You sounded a bit too happy, if you ask me," Diego mutters. Then softer, "I don't want you to get hurt again, Camila."

"Well, I'm not," I bite out.

"If anything goes wrong, you let me know, okay?"

"Sure thing, Dad."

"I'm serious," he says sternly, and I roll my eyes. God knew what he was doing when he took my dad and gave me a twenty-seven-year-old best friend with a fifty-year-old's personality.

"I know, I know," I groan, dragging my hand along my face.

"Good girl. We send greetings from here. Take care, Camila."

"You too, Diego. I send my greetings with love." The line goes dead immediately, and so does my mood.

The quiet returns-until a ping. A Fox News alert lights up my screen:

"Blue Cyber Systems Hit by Major Cyber attack Amid Breach Allegations."

I tap it instantly. So that was why he'd left in a hurry. In one night, both his inheritance and business have been threatened. He seemed confident earlier, maybe too confident-but one can only reach a breaking point.

I tap on the phone app, about to ring him, but I can't bring myself to tap on his number.

My thumb hovers over his digits. Should I call? What if he doesn't pick up? Would I be interrupting? Maybe tomorrow morning's better.

He's already had a rough day as it is. I give my phone one last look, thumb hovering over his name like it's a trigger.

"Don't be that girl," I whisper to myself. Then I tap call anyway.

It rings once. Twice. Then voicemail.

I give my phone one last look before hitting play. Rihanna's voice fills the air, drowning out every sound-but my thoughts are louder