Page 102 of Sweet Deception

A man stood near the arrivals section, holding up a placard with my name.

As I walked closer, recognition struck me like a shock to the system.

“Stefano?”

He grinned, spreading his arms wide.

I hesitated for a second before stepping into his embrace. His cologne was the same, clean, sharp, familiar. For a brief moment, it felt like stepping into the past.

“What in the world are you doing here?” I asked, my voice colored with surprise.

He pulled back slightly, still holding onto my arms. “I work for your father now.”

I blinked. “Really?”

“That’s right.” He stepped aside and opened the door of the sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom.

I slid into the backseat, watching as he took the driver’s seat.

The last time I’d seen him was two years ago, on my final day of high school. Stefano had been the golden boy, handsome, intelligent, effortlessly charismatic. All the girls had been in love with him, including me. But I had always been the quiet one, the observer, the girl who faded into the background.

Looking at him now, I felt nothing.

Or maybe I was just too tired to feel anything.

“You’ve grown up, Anna,” he said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

I offered a small smile. “So have you.”

“I thought you’d be in law school by now.”

I tilted my head. “I could say the same about you. You were supposed to be the one who escaped all this.”

His expression flickered, just for a second. “Life happens.”

Something about the way he said it made me pause, but before I could press, he turned up the radio. The opening chords of an old Italian song drifted through the speakers.

My favorite song.

I stiffened.

“You still listen to this?”

He smirked. “I remember more about you than you think, Anna.”

The warmth in his voice should have been comforting. Instead, it left a strange feeling in my chest, one I couldn’t quite name.

So I leaned back against the seat, staring out the window, letting the music drown out the thoughts racing through my head.

And then I thought of Gleb.

I had tried not to. I had tried to shut out his face, his voice, the memory of his hands gripping mine in the darkness. But it was impossible.

Even Zoya had told me to stay to fight for my marriage.

But how could I?

Gleb might not have taken his pain out on me, but I felt it in him. The weight of it. The quiet violence coiled beneath the surface. I couldn’t just stand by while his past came crashing down around him.