Chapter 323: Strange game

CHAPTER 324

KATYA POV

The moment Romeo stopped in front of us, the breeze seemed to lose its warmth. The garden remained exactly as it had been only seconds ago.

The roses still swayed gently beneath the afternoon sun. Water continued spilling softly from the marble fountain somewhere beyond the hedges. Birds sang as though nothing had changed.

And yet…

Everything felt different.

Chiara stood first. “Good afternoon, Don Romeo.” Her voice was polite. Respectful.

He didn’t answer. Not because he’d ignored her deliberately.

At least…

I didn’t think he had. He simply stood there, his attention settling entirely on me.

Those grey eyes remained as unreadable as ever behind the black mask, giving absolutely nothing away.

Silence stretched between the three of us. Then, without taking his eyes off me, he spoke.

“Leave us.” The words were calm. Not loud. Not rude. Simply… A statement.

For a second, I wasn’t entirely sure I’d heard him correctly.

My eyebrows lifted slightly. Beside me, Chiara stiffened.

The hesitation that followed lasted barely two heartbeats, but it felt much longer.

My head turned toward her almost automatically. Her eyes were already on me.

There it was. That familiar protective look.

The one she’d worn outside the nightclub when she’d insisted we ask Romeo for a ride instead of trying to walk home.

The same expression she’d given me whenever conversations drifted too close to subjects she knew I struggled with.

She didn’t want to leave. I could see it plainly.

Neither did I.

If someone had offered me the opportunity to disappear into the nearest rose bush, I might genuinely have considered it.

Being alone with Romeo wasn’t exactly high on my list of enjoyable afternoon activities.

Actually… It wasn’t on the list at all.

My stomach tightened. What if he wanted to talk about breakfast?

Or last night?

Or… The lie.

The thought alone made my pulse quicken. Ever since breakfast, questions had been circling endlessly inside my head.

Nothing made sense anymore. And despite every instinct telling me to avoid him…

Another part of me— The frustratingly curious part—

Wanted answers. Wanted to understand.

I looked back at Chiara. She still hadn’t moved. Her concern was written plainly across her face now.

She wasn’t afraid for herself. She was worried about me.

Something inside my chest softened.

I offered her the smallest nod. Barely noticeable. An unspoken reassurance.

It’s okay. Or at least…

I’ll be okay.

She searched my face for another second, as if deciding whether to ignore Romeo entirely and stay anyway.

Honestly… I wouldn’t have blamed her.

But eventually, the tension in her shoulders eased ever so slightly. A tiny smile appeared on her lips.

Small.

Encouraging.

The kind of smile that said if you need me, I’ll be nearby. It made me feel braver than I actually was.

“Okay,” she murmured quietly, more to me than to him. She turned toward Romeo.

“I’ll be inside if you need anything, Don Romeo.”

Again… No response. He remained exactly where he was.

Still. Silent. Watching me.

Chiara didn’t seem offended. She simply gave me one last meaningful glance before turning away. I watched her walk back along the winding stone path.

Her cream-colored sweater gradually disappeared behind rows of flowering hedges, until finally I couldn’t see her anymore.

Just like that… I was alone.

Alone with Romeo.

The realization settled over me immediately. The garden suddenly felt much larger than it had moments ago. Much quieter too. I became acutely aware of ridiculous little things.

The breeze lifting loose strands of white hair from my messy bun.

The warmth of the afternoon sun against my sleeves. The sound of leaves brushing together overhead.

Even my own heartbeat seemed unnaturally loud. Neither of us spoke. Seconds drifted past.

I resisted the increasingly overwhelming urge to fill the silence with something.

Anything. A greeting. A question. An awkward comment about the weather.

No.

Absolutely not.

I’d learned long ago that rushing Romeo into conversation was about as useful as arguing with a stone wall. If he’d asked Chiara to leave…

Then he clearly intended to say something.

Eventually. I folded my hands together in my lap, partly to stop myself from fidgeting.

It didn’t help much.

My fingers found the cuff of my hoodie almost immediately, absentmindedly rubbing the soft fabric between my thumb and forefinger.

I caught myself.

Stopped. Then started doing it again without realizing.

Wonderful.

He was probably noticing every nervous habit I had. Not that his expression gave any indication one way or the other.

He simply looked at me.

Calmly.

Patiently.

Almost as though he were waiting for something.

Or perhaps…

Waiting for me.

The thought made my stomach flutter uncomfortably.

I cleared my throat softly.

“…Did you…”

The words caught halfway out. I frowned at myself. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t the same frightened girl who had lived under his roof months ago.

Italy had changed me. Nonna had changed me. I refused to let him reduce me back to that version of myself.

I pressed my lips together in mild annoyance before trying again. I drew a slow breath, forcing my shoulders to relax.

“Did you need something?”

For the first time since he’d walked into the garden…

His gaze finally shifted.

Those pale grey eyes lingered on my face for one long moment before drifting away as though satisfied with whatever they had been searching for.

Without a word, he withdrew the hand resting inside the pocket of his joggers.

Then, to my complete surprise…

He sat down. The wrought-iron bench dipped slightly beneath his weight.

I stared as he simply leaned back against the bench like that had been his intention all along.

Still… He said nothing.

The silence returned. I looked ahead at the rows of roses swaying gently beneath the afternoon sun.

Surely he hadn’t asked Chiara to leave just so we could… sit here.

Another minute slipped by. I stole a glance toward him. His posture remained relaxed, one forearm resting lightly against the back of the bench, his eyes fixed somewhere ahead.

Was he… thinking?

Waiting?

Or had he genuinely forgotten why he’d come?

My patience, already stretched thin over the last twenty-four hours, began to fray.

First the nightclub.

Then the drive home.

Then breakfast.

Then this.

Everything about this man seemed designed to leave me confused.

I inhaled slowly.

No.

I wasn’t doing this again.

If he’d wanted me alone only to sit in silence, then I had better things to do than participate in whatever strange game this was.

I shifted slightly, planting my palms against the bench.

“If you don’t actually have anything to say, then I—”

“How have you been?”

The words landed so unexpectedly that they cut straight through mine.

I stopped. Completely.

My mouth remained slightly open, the rest of my sentence disappearing before it ever had the chance to exist.

“…What?”

I turned toward him so quickly the loose strands escaping my messy bun brushed against my cheek.