1. Valerie

Chapter one

Valerie

B right flashing lights blind my vision as I exit security. A group of large men walk through the centre of the airport in a huddle, as paparazzi follow along all in the hopes of snapping a picture of some or other celebrity.

"Fucking celebrities..." I whisper to myself.

Having a large strawberry shake before a two-hour flight was not my smartest decision considering I'm lactose intolerant. My stomach gurgles almost on cue, mocking my decisions.

As soon as the large mass of people pass, I race through the rest of the airport to the nearest bathroom, completely disregarding my bags. Nearly twenty minutes later, with my stomach settled, I rush towards baggage claim where my baby pink suitcases patiently await me on the conveyor belt.

Sighing, I slump down onto a nearby bench and turn my phone on again. Text messages from my papá and my cousin Karyn pour in, letting me know they won't be able to fetch me from the airport.

If the last two hours were not an indication of how returning to Tevici would go, this is officially the cherry on top of a horrible morning. Returning to Italy this year was never part of my plans, never mind returning home to Tevici.

Taking the bus wouldn't usually be my first choice since it takes much longer, however, it drops me off closer to my house than a train would. It's also significantly cheaper than a taxi, making it a win for my ever-shrinking bank account.

The sweetest old man helps me load my bags onto the bus, and almost instantly, I slip into dramatic music video mode as I put my earphones in.

A smile graces my lips as I realise how refreshing it is to be home after so long. How lovely it is to see the familiar streets, the houses. The views of the glistening blue water along the promenade and the quaint little stores that line the street. It's all so nostalgic that the memories begin to stream in.

The last time I was back in Tevici was for my mother's funeral three years ago. She'd been sick for about a year before that. I split my time between my studies in Paris and home almost equally, travelling back any chance I had. I would have liked to have done the same now for my papá's surgeries, but in light of recent events, my bank account could no longer pay for multiple flights to Tevici.

The bus groans to a stop and I smile as Karyn and my papá come into view. Both are deep in conversation about what must be the latest neighbourhood gossip. Their expressions light up as I step off the bus, and immediately, my papá envelops me in a hug.

"Hello, Fiore Mio, how are you?" He asks as he pulls back to give me a once-over.

"I'm good, and yourself papá?" He simply nods, practically brushing off my question. I smile and turn to hug Karyn.

"Did he have to bribe you to leave the wheelchair at home?" I ask as I pull out of the hug.

"He promised to take his medication on time after both surgeries."

My brows raise in surprise as I purse my lips."Hmm, a decent bargain for an old man like yourself," I pat his back as we begin the stroll back to the house.

"Exercise is good for the joints, Fiore Mio ," he simply says.

My father is long past trying to exercise to keep his joints in working order. Over the last seven years, his hip bones have deteriorated so badly that he now needs a double hip replacement, especially after looking after my mamá by himself.

Monday is the first of two surgeries. In an ideal world, both hips would be done at once; however, considering his age and the severity of the situation, his surgeon decided to split the heavy toll it would take on his body into two visits. It gives him some time to recover before the other hip is replaced. He likes to pretend that it isn't that bad, but after my mamá's passing, it regressed even faster. I had to ask my cousin who is a live-in nurse to come help out.

"I made lunch, so come eat before you unpack," Karyn calls as I head upstairs to my childhood bedroom.

The stairs and wooden floors creak as I walk across them, revealing the true age of the house. My bedroom door groans open and the smell of mothballs makes me cringe. My walls are still painted a baby pink shade, my obsession with Barbie and all things pink visibly stemmed from a young age.

Leaving my two large suitcases in the centre of the room, I drag the smaller one containing all my art supplies toward the spare room that my papá cleared out.

It's a large open room with dark wooden floors and equally dark midnight blue walls. I chose this particular room as its large window lets in the most gorgeous natural light, both during the day and at night. On a clear night, the moonlight spills in so beautifully that I can work without the lights on.

Placing the suitcase down, I rush towards the kitchen again where Karyn and my papá sit eating our family's traditional lasagna. When my mamá was alive we'd have it every Sunday, and it makes my heart swell to see that he maintained the tradition even after her passing.

"Is it still as good as it was?" he asks me as I put a bit of the pasta into my mouth.

The flavours melt onto my tongue, and suddenly, I'm transported back to my childhood – running around in the streets, playing with my friends. My brain goes off on a tangent wondering how they are, and I make a mental note to call my best friend, Natalia to check in and let her know that I'm back.

Almost forgetting to answer my father, I hum out in agreement.

"Thank you again, Fiore Mio ," he says and I sense a grave seriousness in his tone.

My eyes meet Karyn's and without any words she simply nods and gets up, excusing herself to the bathroom.

"For what papá?" I wipe my mouth as I stare at him

"For coming back home to be with me. I know you built a life in Paris and that it has always been your dream to live and work there, so I'm grateful you could take time to look out for your frail, old father." He laughs after saying the last part.

I roll my eyes, "Well, it's no problem at all, my frail, old father ."

"I mean it, Fiore Mio , I know it must be difficult being apart from Mattheo."

My blood stills as the name leaves his lips. Mattheo and I met early into my second year of university and fell head over heels in love, leading us to get married in December of that same year.

Pushing this man to the deepest parts of my memory is going to be more difficult than I thought .

"We're getting a divorce, Papá. We haven't been living together for the last few months," I say, all in one breath, and begin focusing on the pasta in front of me, which is no longer appetising.

If my father knew that I'd been bouncing between hostels for the past two months with only these three suitcases and a load of paranoia, he might go into cardiac arrest. So instead of pestering him with the details, I decide to only tell him what he needs to know so he doesn't worry too much.

"What? What happened? Where have you been staying?" he rushes out, eyes wide in worry.

I sigh, so much for him not worrying.

"We are at different stages in our lives, Papá. We want different things and decided it would be better to get a divorce now, rather than dragging out what's already been making us unhappy," I sigh.

Yeah, I wanted a loving husband and he wanted a new girl every week.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at the memory.

"I'm so sorry to hear, Fiore Mio . If it makes you feel any better, your mother always disliked him." He smirks and a chuckle slips past my lips.

My mamá was a distinguished woman, never lashed out and never swore. You could never smell an emotion on her unless you were extremely close to her. However, she was extremely vocal about her dislike for Mattheo. Everyone within the city of Tevici knew she couldn't stand him, and she would tell that to anyone who would listen. The only reason he never knew is because my mamá is one of the best actresses I've ever met. A poker face of steel in his presence, but death glares whenever he wasn't paying attention.

In hindsight, her dislike for him was not without reason.

"Remember that time she put salt into his coffee instead of sugar," I say, and we both burst out laughing.

"He tried hard not to spit it out, bless him." My father chuckles.

Karyn strolls in surveying the room to see whether it is safe for her to return. I nod briefly as she enters, letting her know that it's okay.

"How does cannolis for dessert sound?" I ask while we're all sitting and watching a show in the living room. The afternoon is drawing to an end, the sun starting to hang low in the sky.

"Ooh, that would be lovely." My papá smiles.

"Is Trescatelli's still open in the town centre?" I ask Karyn.

She nods, "Yeah, it closes in about an hour, though, so you should hurry."

"I'm borrowing your coat until I unpack mine," I yell, before taking a light jog out the door and back to the bus stop.

The rain starts falling as I stumble into the doors of Trescatelli's. The warm interior and the smell of freshly baked goods draw me in even deeper. Taking my hood off, I attempt to fix my hair—even though it's more dry shampoo than hair at this point.

"Valerie?" A deep voice rasps and I nearly jump through the roof.

A head of light brown curls and the most beautiful set of green eyes stare back at me. A smirk etches into his lips due to my lack of response. It's been a good seven years, he's changed so much but, simultaneously is so undeniably the same.

"Antonio? What are you doing here?" I ask as he makes his way around the counter, disregarding the other customers waiting to be helped.

"I could ask you the same thing, Val. It's been years." He wraps me in a hug. Just like that, I'm nineteen again. It's the day before I'm meant to leave for Paris, and we're at Zeenith Air Terminal saying goodbye. My god, I have missed him so much since then.

"It has. I'm sorry I was so terrible at staying in contact after I left."

I was horrible at staying in contact with anyone and everyone once Mattheo came into the picture and I hate myself every day for allowing him to keep me away from so many people who cared for me.

He chuckles and lets me go, glancing at my features. "Life gets hectic sometimes I get it, I'm just glad you're home again."

Antonio Vitale is the youngest son of multi-billionaire Luciano Vitale and the youngest-ever CFO of Vitale Holdings – a financial firm here in Tevici. That's who he is to every news outlet in the world but to me? He is Nino, my best friend and an absolute art nerd. Up until before I left for Paris, we were practically inseparable. But after I left for art school and he started working up the ranks of his family's business – following in his brother's footsteps – things changed.

To everyone else, he was just another boy with rich parents. Nino and I genuinely bonded in high school during art classes. Turns out he truly did have a passion for art despite my first assumptions; it was just hidden behind insecurities and the incorrect medium. Antonio's strengths lay in pencil sketches, and not in the oil paints he tried to desperately throw himself into.

"I'm here to pick up some cannolis. I didn't expect to run into one of Italy's most eligible bachelors," I say, and he immediately rolls his eyes.

"I'm checking in with the manager for my mamá," he says. "And I'm not on the most eligible list, yet. Although, I'm pretty sure Ambrose and Adriano are currently tied for third on the list."

Antonio's family owns this Trescatelli's, as well as every other one on the continent. This is their flagship branch and has been since the day it opened, so it's no surprise they keep close tabs on it at all times.

"I didn't know you were back in Tevici," he says, and I nod moving along with the line of people.

"My papá is having a few surgeries, so I'm back home to help out and make sure everything goes according to plan. How are your parents?" I ask.

Almost instantly the air shifts and tension swells. His hands disappear into his pockets and he shrugs, a sad look clouding his already soft features.

"Mamá is good, it's my papá's funeral tomorrow. He passed away last week."

My heart sinks, and I have to try and pry my foot from my mouth as I think of a response.

"I'm so sorry, Nino. I had no idea. How are you doing? More importantly, how is your mamá holding up?" I ask, and my hand instinctively holds onto his forearm.

I know Antonio was never incredibly close to his father, but losing a parent hurts regardless.

"We're surviving. Gus has been taking it the hardest because he was there when Papá died," he explains.

"Please send my condolences to you mamá. I'll have to come over to see her sometime soon," I say, making a mental reminder.

"Or you could come around tomorrow, to the funeral reception. You know the Vitale's don't know how to have small gatherings, so it'll turn into a party before my papa's coffin is even fully covered in dirt. I'm sure mamá would love to see you as well," he says, and without even thinking, I nod my head.

"Next," the employee calls out, and I don't even realise that Antonio and I are the only two left in the store.

"Hi, can I get six cannolis please?" I smile at the young girl who can't keep her eyes off Antonio, who is fully engrossed in his phone.

"Here you go," she says, handing me the box.

"How much do I owe you?"

"It's on the house," Antonio says from beside me. I frown and stare up at him, but before I can even argue, the young girl is gone and the box is in my hands.

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home so you don't have to take a taxi," he says, holding the door open for me with an umbrella already outstretched. As we reach the car, he repeats the same action allowing me to enter first.

The inside of his black G-wagon screams " I'm a billionaire."

The midnight blue nappa leather seats inscribed with A. Vitale is a clear, sign that this is not the same man I grew up with. He is more extravagant than before, more flashy and lives up to the image the media has painted of him and his brothers.

"Are you staying at your papá's? Or at a hotel?" he asks, starting the car. It hums to life as if it were fresh out of the factory.

"At my papá's," I say, and he nods, turning onto the main road that leads straight to my house, still remembering the way after all these years.

"So how is Paris? Last I heard you were still studying art up there?" He confirms and I nod watching the trees pass by as we drive.

Studying for my degree only lasted a few years. I was supposed to return home to work for a local gallery as a curator while working on commissions on the side but, after marrying Mattheo, that dream fell to the wayside. Much like anything else I wanted to do that didn't have Mattheo's stamp of approval

"The city is amazing, everything I ever dreamed of. Everything else? I could've gone my whole life without," I say and he looks over at me briefly. "Let's just say that I'm glad to be home."

And as far away from Paris and Mattheo as possible.

He nods as we pull up into the driveway. "So, I take it you'll be sticking around for a while?"

"Yeah, at least for the rest of the year." I pause awkwardly, not too sure of my answer. "Thanks for the ride home. Don't forget to send me your address for tomorrow," I say and collect my bag and the box of cannolis

"I'll come by and pick you up at around 1 p.m.," he says.

I can tell from his tone it isn't a question, but rather a statement. No room for debate.

"Sure, but umm, I don't think I have your number anymore.." I trail off, feeling slightly awkward about asking for his number after so long. "You know, in case I'm running late or something," I add on for good measure.

What if he doesn't want to give me his number? I mean billionaires have a strict privacy thing I'm sure.

"Give me your phone, and I'll put it in, then you can text me so I have yours."

He hands me my phone back and I slip it back into my bag. "It was good bumping into you, Nino." I smile and climb out of the car.

"Likewise, Val." He flashes his perfect smile, which I'm sure has every woman in Tevici weak in the knees, and then I wonder if he's still single.

"I'm back, and I have the goods," I yell, walking into my home.

Karyn meets me in the kitchen with a frown on her face. "He went off to bed, and said he was getting sleepy." I frown and check the time, realising that I'd been gone for quite a bit longer than I had originally intended.

"It's okay, at least he'll have something to look forward to tomorrow," she says, patting my shoulder as I open the box and offer her one of the delicious pastries.

We both flop onto the couch and resume watching the show we previously were. "Did you know Luciano Vitale died last week?" I ask.

Her head snaps to me and immediately the TV is paused. "NO?" She practically shouts.

I frown. "They must be keeping it under wraps until after the funeral, then."

"The poor family probably just wants to mourn in peace. More importantly, how do you know he died?" She raises a brow.

"I bumped into Antonio at Trescatelli's."

"I knew something was up when you were taking longer than usual. Does he still look the same? It's been years since I've seen any of them outside of the newspaper or social media."

"He's taller, and a bit more muscular, but otherwise, the same." I shrug. "He invited me to the reception after the funeral tomorrow."

Her eyes widen. "Are you gonna go?"

"Probably, yes. He said he'd pick me up at around one."

She turns the TV on without any further questions. "That makes sense as to why Ambrose is back in Tevici," she says absentmindedly.

"What do you mean? Hasn't he been here the entire time?"

Karyn bursts out laughing. "Have you been living under a rock in Paris? He's been on the front page of every news outlet for the last few months living La Dolce Vita along the Amalfi Coast. A different girl every day, blowing millions of euros; that was up until last week. Then everything went radio silent, and suddenly they're reporting on him returning to Tevici today. "

I raise my brow at her. "Are you cyberstalking the Vitales?"

She rolls her eyes. "I have a lot of free time on my hands when your father is napping, and besides, have you seen them? They're so gorgeous, keeping up with their lives is far from a chore."

I try to swallow the bile rushing up my throat at the thought of finding any of the Vitale's attractive. "Yes, they're all good-looking with pockets so big they could end world hunger with a paycheck, but all I can think of are the obnoxious boys that I remember growing up with."

"You haven't seen recent pictures of them, have you?" Karyn asks, taking in my disgusted expression.

Slowly, I shake my head and she pulls out her phone motioning for me to come closer.

She spends the next twenty minutes showing me the twin's Instagram profiles. They've both changed so drastically since I last saw them. Adriano is now sporting a bleach blonde buzz cut while Augustus has a dark brown version. They still look so much alike aside from Adriano who has now buffed out more and has tattoos scattered across most of his arms and torso.

"You've just seen Antonio to know what he looks like now. Ambrose doesn't have an Instagram, but here you can see the pictures the paparazzi snapped at the airport today."

She shows me a blurry picture of a man head down in a suit with dark sunglasses on and I realise this is the group I saw moving through the airport this morning. "It looks nothing like Ambrose," I say, staring at it confused. To be fair, I haven't seen Ambrose in well over a decade since he left to attend university in America the year before I graduated high school.

She shrugs. "I guess you'll have to wait until tomorrow to confirm if it is him."

My mind wonders just how much has changed in the last few years and I'm truly stunned at everything that has happened since I was last here.

What have I accomplished in the last few years? Gotten a degree? Became a trophy wife? Got divorced? Such riveting things. A strong mixture of panic creeps in, and I'm dreadfully made aware that life truly waits for no one.