The hotel room was quiet. Too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind — the kind that echoed. The kind that reminded her she was alone in a city that didn't know her, in a world she didn't belong to.
She sat at the edge of the bed, the heels she'd worn to dinner discarded by the door. Her dress, though still elegant, felt heavy now. Tight. She'd undone the zipper halfway down her back but hadn't found the energy to remove it fully. Her body was tired, but her mind wouldn't stop turning.
She looked around the room. It was stunning, really — the kind of place you only saw in magazines. Cream walls, velvet drapes, a chandelier hanging above the bed like something out of a dream. But to her, it felt more like a staged scene than a place to rest.
A waiting room.
She glanced at her phone.
Mia: Your mom's doing fine. Don't stress. I got her lavender tea and knee cream.
Mia: Still waiting for those billionaire-in-law updates though…
Gia stared at the message for a long time. Then she typed:
Gia: Tomorrow. I'll call you when I can. I miss you.
She set the phone down and pulled her legs up onto the bed, curling into herself. The pillows were soft. The sheets smelled expensive. But comfort was more than thread count.
--------------------------------------------------
A knock at the door.
She sat up fast, unsure for a second.
Then: "It's me," Adrian's voice said.
She walked over and opened the door. He stood there in his suit — the same one from dinner — but the jacket was gone, his tie loose around his neck, eyes searching hers.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said.
She stepped back, letting him in.
"I'm fine," she lied.
He looked around the suite, taking in the untouched food on the table, the dress halfway undone, the quiet.
"I hate that you're in a hotel," he murmured. "You should be somewhere that feels like home."
Gia shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed again. "This is fine. I'm not trying to get too comfortable."
He sat beside her. "Why not?"
"Because I don't want to forget where I come from."
He didn't respond. Just reached for her hand.
--------------------------------------------------
They sat like that for a while — no words, just silence. Not the cold kind from the Luciano dining table. This one was soft, shared. But even then, Gia couldn't shake the image of his father's eyes. Cold. Judging. Final.
"He doesn't like me," she said quietly.
Adrian looked at her, jaw tight. "He doesn't like anyone."
Gia gave a humorless laugh. "That's not true. He just doesn't like people who aren't like him."
Adrian didn't argue.
Didn't lie.
And somehow, that made it worse.
---------------------------------------------------
After he left, Gia stood barefoot on the plush carpet and walked slowly to the window. The city lights sparkled, stretching into the distance like stars trapped in concrete.
She pressed her forehead to the glass.
This wasn't her world.
But she was in it now.
And one way or another…
She'd have to find a way to survive it.