Chapter 38
Chapter 38
VENUS
The first thing I did when we landed was march straight to the cockpit to thank the pilot. I’d just survived a midair trauma that felt like doing backflips over purgatory, the man deserved at least some credit.
His name was Turner. Looked like the type who’d flown through wars, storms, and maybe even a dragon attack or two. His handshake was firm, polite, but there was this split-second glance toward Aaron. A flicker of silent deference.
Even 30,000 feet in the air, Aaron Sinclair was the one in charge.
Of course.
I adjusted the strap of my handbag and followed him down the stairs of the jet. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Aaron moved like the asphalt belonged to him, like the sky only stayed blue because he allowed it.
Two black SUVs were waiting on the tarmac. They looked menacing. Pristine. A physical embodiment of him.
One of the drivers stepped forward and opened the back door. No words. Just a nod. Just respect.
I slid in. The leather seats practically sighed beneath me. Aaron joined me, already scrolling through his phone like the world depended on it.
I glanced at him. “Texting your secret Italian lover p>
“Only if you count the stock market p>
“Sounds hot p>
Not even a twitch. I swear, I could set myself on fire and he’d just hand me a glass of water like, you done?
As we pulled away, I turned to the window and forgot him, for now.
Rome.
It was… alive.
The city wrapped itself around me like an old story I never knew I was part of. Buildings leaned into each other like they were gossiping. Flowers spilled from balconies. Vespas darted between cars like they had no fear of death. It was a chaotic, beautiful mess, and I couldn’t stop staring.
I caught myself smiling in the window’s reflection.
Then I glanced at Aaron.
Still unbothered. Legs stretched out, watch glinting, face like he was sitting through a meeting instead of driving through art come to life.
“You’ve been here before p>
He nodded.
“How many times p>
“Too many p>
Of course.
“Let me guess you flipped a coin between your five Italian estates p>
“Four,” he corrected, not looking up. “And I chose this one for the view p>
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost gave myself a headache. “You’re unbearable, you know that p>
“Frequently told p>
The jetlag crept in like a slow wave. My body ached, my brain fogged. No sleep and near-death midair theatrics had drained me. So by the time we pulled into a private, ivy-wrapped courtyard, I was running on fumes.
The condo looked like it had stepped out of a luxury magazine. Modern nestled in old-world charm, glass against brick, elegance without trying too hard.
Aaron stepped out and casually opened my door before the driver could. I stared at him.
“You’re opening doors now p>
“Don’t get used to it p>
Successfully unlocked!
He led me through massive double doors and into a touse at one line it belonged to royalty. Marble floors. Floor-to- ceiling windows. A chandelier that probably cost more than my tuition.
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Chapter 38
I stood, stunned.
“Do I get a tour p>
Aaron loosened his collar, not even glancing at me. “You’re not here for the view, Venus. Pick a room. Rest. Dinner’s at
seven p>
Then he was gone.
Asshole.
I kicked off my shoes and wandered until I found a guest room that could’ve doubled as a suite. Four-poster bed. Closet bigger than my first apartment. Bathroom with a tub that whispered seduce me.
Ten minutes later, I was soaking in hot water, letting the tension melt off like candle wax. The stress, the flight, the fake marriage, Aaron’s maddening calm. it all faded for a moment.
Just me, Rome, and a tub made by angels.
When I finally dragged myself out, wrapped in a robe that felt sinful, I checked my phone.
A dozen messages from Gianna.
A few from Jude.
Still none from my
I fired off a quick text:
Venus: I swear I’ll explain everything. I’m fine. I’m in Rome. Please just trust me for a little while.
I didn’t bother calling my mom again. I’d already left her a voicemail. If she saw the tabloids before I got to her… God help
I tightened the robe, stomach grumbling, and stepped out into the hall. I needed food, a croissant, or Aaron’s expensive imported biscotti, something.
That’s when I heard his voice.
Low. Sharp.
He was on the phone.
“Yeah. Rome p>
I froze. My footsteps softened instinctively.
“Oh, I know. She had us followed. I tipped her.” A beat. “She’s even dumber than I thought if she thinks I don’t know she has
a mole around me p>
My brows pinched. She? Caroline?
“Yeah, what about it
My breath caught.
His tone changed, slightly colder. “They’re not her real parents, are they p>
His voice dropped lower. Controlled. Dangerous.
“This complicates things. Handle it, Connor. No one else can find out. Especially not her p>
And that was when my clumsy ass knocked over a vase.
Of all the times to play bowling with Italian porcelain.
It crashed.
Loud.
I winced, wide-eyed, frozen in place, heart pounding.
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Ruby Walker
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.