Chapter 8: Unwelcome Visitors
1199words
"We're going to be late," I warned, though I made no move to step away.
"Let them wait." His lips brushed the sensitive spot below my ear. "I'm enjoying the view."
I met his eyes in the mirror. Three months of secret meetings, stolen weekends at the villa, and hushed conversations had transformed us both. The careful distance he once maintained had given way to casual intimacy, his touch now as necessary to me as breathing.
"Professor Bianchi will notice if his star student is absent," I reminded him, turning to straighten his tie. "And Vogue Italia won't wait forever for their interview with the mysterious investor behind Milan's newest design sensation."
Cassian captured my hands, pressing a kiss to my palm. "I'm proud of you. You know that, don't you?"
"You've mentioned it once or twice." I smiled, still not entirely used to praise.
My transformation had been more than physical. The dermatological treatments had faded my scars to barely noticeable marks. My platinum hair now fell in a sleek bob that fashion photographers called "iconic." But the real change was internal—confidence that came from success earned through talent, not handed to me through pity or obligation.
"One hour of publicity," Cassian said, releasing me reluctantly. "Then I'm stealing you away."
"Promise?"
His eyes darkened with intent. "Promise."
The gallery was already crowded when we arrived—separately, as always. Our relationship remained our secret, though I sometimes caught Professor Bianchi watching us with knowing eyes.
Tonight's event showcased emerging designers, with my collection featured prominently. Fashion Week had catapulted me from student to sensation, with orders already coming in from boutiques across Europe.
I circulated through the crowd, accepting congratulations and fielding questions about my inspiration. Cassian kept his distance, playing his public role as investor and mentor, though I felt his gaze following me across the room.
"Miss Whitestone," called a journalist I recognized from Elle. "Could we get a photo with you and Mr. Vexley? The business mind behind the artistic vision?"
Cassian joined me with practiced casualness, standing close but not too close, his hand hovering near my back without quite touching.
"Mr. Vexley merely provided the opportunity," I said diplomatically. "The vision is entirely my own."
"And what a vision it is," came a voice that froze the blood in my veins.
I turned slowly, my composure threatening to crack. Orion Vexley stood before me, his handsome face arranged in an appreciative smile that didn't reach his eyes. Beside him, Isolde clutched his arm, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"Seraphina?" she whispered, as if uncertain.
"Hello, Isolde." I kept my voice steady, though my heart hammered against my ribs. "Orion. What a surprise."
"Indeed." Orion's eyes traveled over me with an interest that made my skin crawl. "When Uncle Cassian mentioned a promising new designer, he failed to mention it was you."
I felt Cassian stiffen beside me. "I wasn't aware you two were acquainted," he said, his tone dangerously neutral.
"Oh, we're practically family," Orion replied with a smirk. "Or will be, once I marry her sister."
"Step-sister," Isolde corrected automatically, still staring at me. "Seraphina, you look... different."
"Milan agrees with me."
"Clearly." Orion stepped closer, invading my space. "I hardly recognized you. The ugly duckling has become quite the swan."
Cassian moved subtly between us. "I believe Professor Bianchi is looking for you, Seraphina. Something about the Vogue interview."
I recognized the escape he was offering. "If you'll excuse me."
"Actually," Orion said, catching my arm, "I'd love to hear how you ended up here. Last we heard, you'd run off to Paris after making quite the scene at our engagement party."
Cassian's hand closed over Orion's, removing it from my arm with barely controlled force. "I believe Miss Whitestone said she needs to go."
Something dangerous flashed in Orion's eyes—recognition, calculation. His gaze shifted between Cassian and me, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Of course, Uncle. Far be it from me to keep your... protégée from her obligations."
I slipped away, heart pounding, feeling their eyes on my back as I crossed the gallery. Professor Bianchi intercepted me, his concern evident.
"Are you alright, cara? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Several, actually." I forced a smile. "The Vogue journalist?"
"By the champagne table. But perhaps you need a moment?"
I shook my head. "I'm fine."
The interview passed in a blur, my responses automatic while my mind raced. Orion and Isolde were here. They'd seen me. And worse, I feared Orion had glimpsed something between Cassian and me—something we'd been careful to hide.
An hour later, I slipped out the back entrance where Cassian's driver waited. The car took me directly to my apartment, but I couldn't settle. I paced the living room, jumping when my phone chimed with a text.
*Delayed. Need to manage O. Wait for me.*
Forty minutes later, a key turned in my lock. Cassian entered, his expression thunderous.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Orion happened." He loosened his tie with sharp, angry movements. "He's decided your apartment building would be perfect for Isolde to view tomorrow. Apparently, she's considering Milan for their primary residence."
"That's not coincidence."
"No." Cassian ran a hand through his hair. "He suspects something between us. He made several pointed comments about my 'interest in developing new talent.'"
I sank onto the sofa. "What do we do?"
"We could end it." His voice was flat, his back to me as he stared out the window. "That would be the sensible thing."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "Is that what you want?"
He turned, his expression raw with conflict. "What I want stopped mattering the moment I fell in love with you."
The confession hung in the air between us. In three months, neither of us had spoken that word, though I'd felt it growing with each passing day.
"Cassian—"
"I should have stayed away." He crossed to me in three strides, kneeling before me. "I should never have let this happen. But God help me, Seraphina, I can't bring myself to regret it."
I took his face in my hands. "I love you too."
His eyes closed briefly, as if in pain. "They'll try to destroy you when they find out. Your father, Orion—they'll use this against you, against your career."
"Let them try." I pressed my forehead to his. "I've spent my life hiding, Cassian. I won't hide my heart too."
He pulled me into a fierce kiss, desperation giving way to something deeper, more certain. When we broke apart, his decision was written in his eyes.
"No more separate arrivals," he said. "No more pretending. Whatever comes, we face it together."
"Together," I agreed, sealing the promise with another kiss.
Outside, the lights of Milan glittered like stars fallen to earth. Tomorrow would bring confrontation, perhaps even scandal. But tonight, in this apartment that had witnessed my transformation from frightened girl to confident woman, I chose love over fear.
And for once, the choice was entirely my own.
