Page 48 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
He would have his answer.
I positioned the pen carefully, aligning it with the space I had located through touch. My hand steadied, muscle memory taking over as I drew the first stroke.
Loretta Orsini.
When I finished, I lifted the pen slowly, holding it just above the page for a second before setting it down gently.
“I think that’s it,” I murmured.
Not uncertain. Just confirming.
Only then did I hear him move and settle into the chair across from me.
“Since you are unable to read the terms of the contract,” he said evenly, “allow me to state its most important provision to you. This agreement does not extend your stay beyond your original seven months.”
My chest loosened—just slightly.
“You remain free,” he continued, voice measured, “to return to Italy once your internship concludes.”
I should have felt relieved after hearing that. And in a way, I did—just a fraction, a thin easing at the edges of my chest.
But it did not last.
Because almost immediately, confusion began to coil beneath it, like something taking root where relief had briefly settled.
Seven months still meant proximity. Still meant access. Still meant he had chosenmeout of everyone else—and that alone did not make sense.
This wasn’t about keeping me. It was about something else.
Something time-sensitive. Something already in motion.
Something he expected to resolve before the seven months ran out.
Something tied to the past he had only hinted at in fragments.
My throat went dry at the thought.
“Ramiro will escort you to your new office,” he said, his tone unhurried. “Welcome to my inner circle.”
Inner circle.
The words landed with quiet weight in my chest, as though they carried more meaning than the room allowed them to show.
And now I would be escorted.
To a new office.
As his personal assistant.
The thought tightened slowly in my mind, uncomfortable in its simplicity.
Nothing about this felt like a transition. It felt like a placement.
As though I had been moved on a board I had never agreed to stand on in the first place.
Another presence entered the room—distinct from Rafael’s in every way.
Where Rafael felt like contained power, this one carried something steadier. Measured in a different way.
