24. DAHLIA

Sorry for the short chapter. Give me some song recommendations for the Playlist of this book. Also tell me in the comments which couple you want next:-

°Niko and Josephine °Sofia and Taehyung

_____________________________(Six months later)

The last flash from the cameras still lingered behind my eyes as I stepped backstage, exhaustion settling into my bones like glitter that refused to wash off.

Another fashion event conquered. 

But God, the satisfaction was addictive.

New York had practically swallowed my face whole this month. Vogue covers. Campaign launches. Interviews clipped into viral edits on TikTok with dramatic music and slowed-down transitions of me walking runways like I owned the city. My publicist called it "career-defining momentum."

I couldn't deny how good it felt.

Especially after everything.

The movie with Jasper had exploded in a way nobody expected. Critics called it "emotionally haunting." Fans called us soulmates. The internet called us the pairing of the year.

Which was funny considering my actual soulmate was currently somewhere in Manhattan probably terrifying stock markets and making grown men cry in boardrooms.

Promotion after promotion had drained me dry. Every smile. Every interview. Every perfectly rehearsed answer.

But it had been worth it.

For once, my life wasn't collapsing under me.

For once, I was building something instead of recovering from it.

I caught my reflection in one of the backstage mirrors while removing an earring. The scar near  caught the light for a second small now, faded silver against my skin.

Most people didn't notice it anymore. I did. Always. It used to make me angry. Then ashamed. Then numb. Now it felt like proof.

Proof that I survived things that were supposed to destroy me.

The nightmares still came sometimes, but they weren't the same ones anymore. Back then they were ghosts from my adolescencefear, helplessness, memories that clawed at me in the dark.

Now they were different. More adult. More complicated.

But tonight, none of that mattered.

Because finally—finally—I had a weekend off.

No interviews. No fittings. No cameras shoved in my face.

What I am gonna do with it??

Maybe sleep. Maybe time with the people I loved.

Maybe time with him.

"Congratulations, ma'am. Your show is literally all over the internet right now. The press is obsessed."

Tanya appeared beside me holding her tablet against her chest, looking both professional and mildly sleep-deprived.

I smiled immediately.

Tanya had only been working with me for a few months, but somehow she'd already become essential to my sanity. She was sharp, organized, terrifyingly efficient, and somehow still warm in a way the fashion industry usually beat out of people.

Her long black hair framed a face that constantly looked caught between amusement and concern—usually because of me.

She reminded me of Martha sometimes.

Well.

"There's positive coverage everywhere," Tanya continued proudly. "Especially from the post-event interviews. Also... maybe we should send Mrs. Castillo flowers because Kensington PR basically performed witchcraft this week."

I laughed softly while slipping my heels off for a moment under the vanity. Honestly, not signing with Kensington PR sooner might've been one of the dumbest professional decisions I'd ever made. God fucking god, I should have listened to all the people who sang its praise.

Sloane Castillo was terrifying in the most elegant way possible.

Beautiful. Composed. Brilliant.

The kind of woman who could destroy a scandal with one phone call and still make it to dinner looking runway ready.

"I'll thank her next week," I said, standing again and grabbing my bag. 

"Heading home?"

I nodded. "And before you say it—stop calling me ma'am."

Her expression turned innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am."

"Tanya."

She laughed under her breath. "Okay, okay. Have a safe drive."

"You too."

I was already halfway toward the exit, mentally calculating how long it would take to shower, remove makeup, and collapse into bed—

when Tanya spoke again. "Oh, and Mr. Russo has been waiting for you in reception."

My steps stopped instantly. It was embarrassing, honestly, how fast my entire body reacted. Like my heart had its own separate nervous system dedicated exclusively to Marco.

Butterflies erupted violently in my stomach.

Warmth spread through my chest so quickly it almost hurt.

It had only been a week since I'd seen him, but somehow it felt longer. Marco had been buried under expansion meetings for Russo Group's Asia projects while I'd been drowning in promotions.

But no matter how busy he got, he always found time for me.

Always.

A dinner between meetings. A late-night flight just to spend six hours together. Phone calls at two in the morning because he "missed my voice."

With Marco, love was never measured in time.

It was measured in effort.

And that man never stopped trying.

I didn't even say goodbye to Tanya properly. I just turned and practically speed-walked toward reception before my dignity could catch up with me.

Then I saw him. And God. There should honestly be laws against men looking like that in public.

Marco leaned casually against the reception counter, in a button down and pants.

The city lights spilled through the glass windows behind him, outlining his broad shoulders in gold.

But then he looked at mend suddenly he wasn't the terrifying CEO everyone feared.

He was just Marco.

My Marco.

His gaze swept over me slowly, deliberately, lingering for one dangerous second on the strip of bare skin between my crop top and skirt. Heat climbed instantly up my neck. One corner of his mouth lifted.

"You were a blast tonight, Diamond."

That voice should've been classified as a weapon. That faint whiff of Italian tone.

I crossed my arms, pretending I wasn't affected while failing miserably. "You were there?"

"Not physically."

He pushed himself off the counter and walked toward me, confident and smooth and unfairly attractive.

"But I watched the livestream."

Something stupidly soft melted inside me.

Because this man was currently overseeing international expansions worth millions of dollars and still somehow found time to watch me walk down a runway like it was the most important event in thworld.

"How many meetings did you ignore to do that?" I asked.

His expression remained completely serious. "Enough to frighten several executives."

I laughed before I could stop myself. God, I missed him.

"So," I said carefully, "why are you here?"

His eyes glittered with something dangerous.

"I'm kidnapping you."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"To Italy."

My brain short-circuited.

"What?"

"Just for a day."

"A day?" I repeated, staring at him. "Marco, normal people don't casually say things like let's go to Italy for the day."

"Good thing I'm not normal."

Fair point.

"But why Italy?"

His smile turned annoyingly mysterious.

"It's a surprise."

I narrowed my eyes. "I hate surprises."

"No, you hate bad surprises. I'm attractive enough to pull off good ones."

"What am I supposed to tell my parents? We had a family dinner tonight."

"I already handled it."

Of course he did.

"Josie's in Italy for her exhibition," he explained smoothly. "I told my mother and Josie to cover for you if needed. You just have to text your parents."

I shook my head slowly, half amazed and half concerned.

"You literally plan criminal operations for romance."

"Efficiently," he corrected. You don't want to come with me?" he asked softly.

Then, unbelievably, he gave me that look.

The fake wounded expression. The slightly pouty mouth.

It should not have worked.

It absolutely worked.

He looked like an oversized teddy bear disguised as a mafia heir.

I exhaled dramatically. "Fine. I'll go. But I need clothes."

"If you need anything, I'll buy it."

I rolled my eyes immediately. "Money doesn't buy happiness."

A slow smile spread across his face as he stepped closer.

"No," he murmured.

Then his fingers brushed softly against my waist, warm against my skin.

"But I do."

My stomach flipped violently.

Honestly, it was humiliating how effective this man was.

"Cocky," I whispered.

"You love it."

Unfortunately very unfortunately—

I did.

I looked up at him, smiling before I could stop myself.

"Okay," I said quietly. "Let's go."

[...............................................................]

Marco opened the SUV door for me, his gaze flicking over my face carefully like he was silently checking how exhausted I was.

"Thank you," I murmured as I slid inside.

The warmth of the car wrapped around me instantly, making me melt into the leather seat with a relieved sigh.

Marco climbed in beside me a second later, loosening the top button of his shirt before giving the driver a quiet instruction.

He turned slightly toward me, one arm stretched along the seat behind my head. "You were beautiful tonight."

The compliment settled warmly into my chest, but it wasn't really the words that got me.

It was how sincerely he said them.

Like he wasn't complimenting the dress or the makeup or the performance.

Like he was talking about me.

I tucked my legs underneath myself slightly before looking out the window again.

New York blurred past us in silver and gold reflections.

"I still can't believe this week happened," I admitted quietly.

Marco hummed for me to continue. And for some reason, once I started talking, I couldn't stop.

"Monday started with complete chaos," I said, laughing under my breath at the memory. "The studio released the international numbers at like eight in the morning, and suddenly everyone was panicking because the movie was doing way better than projected."

Marco watched me carefully, his expression softening more with every word. I think he liked hearing me excited.

"The press tour was insane," I continued. "Every interviewer kept asking me and Jasper the same questions over and over again."

Marco's eyes narrowed slightly at Jasper's name already.

I noticed immediately.

And ignored it intentionally.

"They kept asking if the chemistry was natural," I said with a grin. "At one point Jasper literally answered, 'No, we actually hated each other and the director forced us to emotionally communicate through violence.' And it got insane when one asked, "Why isn't their chemistry between you two in real life? WHy are you not dating?" I mean Jasper and I were ready to strangle so paps then and there. Dude, that was movie, this is real life."

Marco let out a reluctant laugh..

He was definitely irritated.

I continued anyway because apparently I enjoyed making dangerous choices.

"You should've seen social media this week," I said, turning toward him more fully now. "People are losing their minds over the movie."

"You showed me twelve thousand edits already."

"That is not true."

"It absolutely is."

"Okay maybe six thousand."

Marco shook his head slowly while I laughed. "But seriously," I continued, unable to stop smiling now, "it feels unreal. Like actually unreal."

My voice softened unintentionally.

"People are saying I carried the emotional side of the film." I looked down at my hands. "Critics keep calling me 'captivating,' and every time I read it, I genuinely think they're talking about someone else."

Because that was the strange thing about success.

Nobody talked enough about how disorienting it was when your self-image hadn't caught up yet. I still remembered every, self doubt, breakdown and thinking I am nothing. All I have is nothing.

That version of myself still existed somewhere in my head.

So hearing people praise me now felt Foreign.

"I watched one review yesterday," I admitted quietly. "The guy said my performance felt emotionally raw and mature. And I just..." I laughed weakly. "I paused the video because I couldn't process it."

"Why?"

"Because what if they're wrong?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it. I hated how small it sounded. Marco's gaze sharpened instantly.

"They aren't."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

I looked at him helplessly. "Marco, I still feel like I'm pretending half the time."

His expression changed at that.

"Dahlia. ou know what I saw when I watched that film?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head.

"I saw a woman who made me forget she was acting."

Something in my chest tightened painfully.

Marco leaned closer slightly, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You made people feel something," he continued. "Do you understand how rare that is?"

I swallowed hard. "I don't know."

"You should."

The car grew quieter after that.

Not awkward quiet.

Warm quiet.

The kind where emotions settled slowly between two people without needing to be explained.

Then unfortunately Marco ruined the tenderness himself.

"What I still don't understand," he said calmly, "is why your fans are romantically obsessed with Jasper."

I burst out laughing instantly.

"There it is."

"He spent half the movie looking emotionally constipated."

"That is such a lie."

"Okay, that guy do a great job professionally, I will admit."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You're actually jealous of fictional chemistry."

"I dislike him professionally."

"You don't even work with him." I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

Marco watched me for a second before the corner of his mouth lifted too, like my laughter was contagious to him.

I loved it so much it almost scared me.

"You know what's worse?" I asked.

"What?"

"Some obsessive people on internet thinks we're soulmates when we literally don;t text more than schedule and polite congrats.."

His face went blank.

I immediately started laughing again. "Oh my God, you hate that."

Marco slid an arm around my waist then, pulling me effortlessly closer against him.

"Let them fantasize," he murmured against my hair. "At the end of the day, you're still getting on a plane to Italy with me."

And honestly?

The smugness in his voice was completely justified.