Page 52 of Her Red Hot Secret Royal Fling

Dante sighed. “I thought you’d feel that way.”

She glanced at him. “You did?”

“You’re always fighting this,” he shrugged. “You’re like a little sister to all of us, but you don’t want to accept that.”

“It’s not that,” she lied, because it was precisely the problem.

“It’s okay.” He stood up, striding across his office to pour a glass of water. He brought it back to her and she took it, if only to have something to do with her hands. “We’ll support you no matter what.”No matter what.“And your job will always be here.”

She sipped the water, more damned tears threatening to clog her throat. She’d cried so much in the past three weeks; she couldn’t believe there were any tears left inside of her.

She placed the water glass on the edge of Dante’s desk and stood, turning to face him. “Thank you.” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes though.

“Sof, is something going on?”

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. For a brief moment, she imagined confiding in Dante. She imagined opening up to him, tellinghim everything. But they’d agreed to keep this secret. And even when she trusted Dante Santoro completely, she still knew she couldn’t betray Ares’s confidence.

“No.”

“You’re sure? You’ve been different, these last few weeks.”

“I’m fine,” she lied again, even attempting a smile. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

He stared at her with trademark Dante Santoro intensity before nodding once. “Fine. You’re coming on the weekend?”

It was a Santoro family catch up weekend. They’d all be there, and there was much excitement to spend more time with Rocco’s girlfriend, Maddie, who was, by all accounts, a wonderful addition to the family. Because that’s what the Santoros did. They gathered people together, loving them all fiercely, loving them until whatever wounds they might have had healed over. Loving them as if they had an inexhaustible supply of the stuff.

Why couldn’t Sofia’s wounds heal? Why couldn’t she be like everyone else?

“Sof?” Dante’s voice was sharp. He was clearly recognizing that Sofia wasnotin a good place. And she wasn’t. The idea of a big Santoro weekend filled her with dread. Though they might be her favourite people in the world, and the villa her favourite place, she couldn’t possibly fool them all into thinking she was fine, when the wheels were coming off so spectacularly.

“I’m…I’ll try.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and watched as she left his office, but Sofia suspected she hadn’t heard the last of it.

And she was right.

Not ten minutes later, her phone pinged with a text from Portia—Dante’s long-time assistant who was now married toDante’s younger brother Marco. “What do you think Gianni will ‘delight us with’ this weekend?” She included several pizza emoji. It was a long running joke between them that Gianni Santoro would always make the strangest pizza toppings, convinced he was about to discover ‘the next big thing’. Most people took up something like golf, or cards, in their retirement, but not the Santoro patriarch. Leave it to him to decide anchovies and marshmallow were going to set the world on fire.

Despite herself, Sofia’s lips twisted with a smile. She stepped into the back of her car whilst tapping out a reply.

“Maybe wood smoked mushrooms and peanut butter?”

Portia sent back a little green face emoji. Sofia slipped her phone into her bag and stared resolutely out of the window as the car moved into traffic, pulling her away from the Santoro building and towards the sanctity of her little Chelsea home.

Sofia didn’t knowhow long she lay in bed for, nor how many times her phone had pinged with messages and missed calls. All she knew was that she was wallowing in grief. Not because it felt good, but because it was the only way she knew how to process the ache deep in her soul.

She closed her eyes and saw Ares, and wished upon every star in the darkened sky, that she could reach out and touch him, one last time.

You could have,a voice reminded her. If she was grieving, it was a grief of her own making, because Ares had offered for her to stay. Had asked her to. Had damned near suggested they get married.

She could have had everything she’d wanted, if she’d been brave enough to reach for it. Brave enough to accept the risks that came with it. But she hadn’t. She’d run away, and somewhere in her mind, Sofia still believed that to be theright decision, even though she temporarily felt as though she’d monumentally messed up.

Sometime near midnight, she got up to brush her teeth and finally looked at her phone.

A veritable roll call of Santoro messages—Marco, Portia again, Dante—just checking in. I’m here if you want to talk about anything.Dante’s wife Georgia, with some adorable baby photos, that made Sofia’s heart clutch. Raf, asking if she wanted his opera tickets next month.Marcia’s not feeling well, we won’t be able to make it.Sofia ground her teeth at that. Marcia, Raf’s recently married wife, was not Sofia’s favourite person. And yet, they all accepted her, because Raf, for whatever reason, loved her, and so they did too. It was in the contract, basically. There was also a message from Salvatore.

She clicked into it. “Did you see this?”

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