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Chapter 9 – Velvet Glances and Fractured Truths
(Approx. 7,150 words)
Setting: Venice, Italy – Bellavita Studios | Evening
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The soft clink of crystal glasses echoed through the exclusive rooftop lounge of Bellavita Studios. Lit by lanterns and woven with vines of wisteria, the rooftop felt less like a business space and more like a private escape—precisely how Alessandro Romano had designed it.
He leaned against the balustrade, brown eyes watching the skyline of Venice burn gold beneath the setting sun. A storm brewed quietly behind his composed gaze—Celeste's betrayal still clawed at his pride like a slow poison, even though his face never cracked before the world.
"Signore Romano?"
The familiar, hesitant voice made him turn.
Isla Moretti stood at the threshold, her delicate frame illuminated by the orange glow. A gentle breeze swept strands of her pale pink hair across her cheek, her hazel-blue eyes locked on his with unguarded curiosity.
"You called for me?" she asked, clutching a small script in her hand.
He gestured to the seat beside him at the stone terrace table. "Join me."
As she stepped forward, Alessandro studied her like a puzzle—her quiet elegance, the nervous confidence in her walk, the way her gaze dropped, then lifted again. She wasn't like other actresses. There was… depth.
"I wanted to discuss tomorrow's shoot," he said, but his voice lacked the usual cold precision. "And perhaps understand the woman behind the performance."
She smiled shyly, settling into the chair. "I'm not that interesting."
"You're more interesting than most people realize," he replied, almost too quickly.
She tilted her head. "Do you say that to all your leads?"
"Only the ones I can't stop watching."
That silenced her. Her cheeks flushed a soft rose, and she turned her gaze to the view below.
"I've been reading the script," she said after a pause. "It's… intense. There's something very personal in it. Did you write it yourself?"
He nodded, the truth dancing behind his expression. "Parts of it are mine. The pain, especially."
"Love… betrayal?"
"Both."
There was silence again. This time, it wasn't awkward—it was thick with unspoken layers.
"I saw you leave set today," she finally said, her voice quiet. "You looked… disturbed."
He stiffened.
"You don't have to answer, of course," she added quickly.
"I found out something," he admitted. "About someone I thought I knew."
"Your girlfriend?"
His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unreadable. "Yes."
"Then maybe she didn't deserve you."
Isla hadn't meant to say it aloud, but there it was—floating between them like a challenge.
He studied her for a long time.
"What if I told you," he said slowly, "that I'm not exactly what I seem either?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you warning me?"
"Maybe."
She leaned forward, whispering like a secret, "Then maybe I don't scare easily."
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Later That Night – Celeste's Penthouse, Milan
Celeste De Luca slipped out of her silk robe and stepped into the jacuzzi, glass of champagne in hand. Her phone buzzed on the edge of the tub.
Unknown number.
She answered, sighing dramatically. "I told you not to call unless—"
"She's getting too close to him," said the voice.
Celeste's smug demeanor shifted slightly.
"I'm handling it," she said. "Alessandro trusts me."
"He's not stupid, Celeste. And the girl isn't either."
Her blue eyes narrowed.
"Then we'll have to break them. Before she ruins everything."
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Back in Venice – Alessandro's Apartment
Alessandro sat at the grand piano in his suite, fingers resting on the keys without playing. His phone buzzed beside him. A text from an unknown contact in his other life.
Il Corvo:
"We found your mole. He's been feeding intel to De Luca Enterprises. Orders?"
His jaw clenched.
He glanced at the folder beside him—photos of Celeste with men who weren't him. Men from a rival family. Evidence of betrayal. Proof that the woman he once thought he loved was using him.
He typed:
Alessandro:
"Do not act yet. I'll deal with this myself."
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The Next Day – Studio Set
Isla stood beneath the lights, awaiting her scene. The moment Alessandro walked in, every hair on her arms stood up.
Gone was the flirtatious man from last night. This morning, he was ice.
He walked over, script in hand. "We're changing the ending. Your character walks away from the lie, but she doesn't die for it. She chooses herself."
Isla blinked. "That's... not what was originally written."
His eyes met hers. "No. But it's the ending she deserves."
"And what about the man who lied to her?"
"He loses her."
There was something heartbreakingly personal in the way he said it.
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Later – Parking Lot
As Isla exited the studio, her phone buzzed. A blocked number again.
Unknown Message:
"Stay away from him. You have no idea what he's capable of."
She stared at the message.
And then, she looked up—Alessandro was waiting by his car.
He looked calm. But the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his jaw… they betrayed something deeper.
She walked up to him.
"Who sent me that text?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he opened the car door for her. "I want to show you something."
"Where?"
"My world."
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End of Chapter 9