Page 3 of Tower of Temptations

"Of course they're not!" She laughed, then sat up excitedly. "But hey, at least they all agreed on doing this new song for the Music and Light Festival. You should hear it, Pearl, it's incredible?—"

"When is it?" I asked, trying to keep the longing out of my voice.

"Next month! And speaking of..." She paused, her expression softening. "Dad was just asking about you. Your Aunt Martha stopped by."

My heart skipped a beat. "How is she? I miss her."

"She misses you too. We all do." Ella hesitated. "Pearl... I know things have been weird lately. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, you seem so... I don't know. Different."

I glanced at my door, twisting a strand of hair around my finger. "It's not that," I said softly. "Everything's just been intense here. You know how it gets."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I do know. Which is why you know you can always come stay with us, right? Dad literally put fresh sheets in the guest room yesterday."

I felt my throat tighten. "You guys are sweet. But really, tell me more about the wedding. I want to hear everything."

"Well, aside from the guys fighting over every little detail..." She grinned. "Dad's been surprisingly amazing about it all. Who would've thought he'd be so cool with everything?"

"That's incredible, El. Really." I meant it, even as my chest ached. "You deserve it."

"You deserve to be happy too, you know," she said softly. "The festival's next month, then the wedding in March. Please say you'll come?"

The sound of footsteps in the hallway made me freeze. "I should go," I whispered. "Text you later?"

I bit my lip. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I hadn't even asked, knowing the answer would crush what little hope I had left.

Before she could press further, the sound of footsteps in the hallway made my heart stop.

"Shit, I've got to go," I whispered.

"Text me later?"

I barely managed a nod before slamming the laptop shut, my heart racing. Vittorio would be here any second, and I was far from ready. If he caught me anything less than perfect...

I was still trying to steady my breathing when his voice echoed through the suite like a thunderclap. "Where's my birthday girl?"

I shuddered slightly, a reflex I couldn't suppress. His act of being the generous family man was something I'd seen through a long time ago, ever since my mother had started dating him.

For a second, I could see her face so clearly—the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, how her whole face lit up. That soft jasmine scent she always wore...

"Pearl?" Vittorio's voice calling again, insistent.

Crap. I swiped under my eyes—mascara intact, thank god.

"In here, Dad! Just a minute," I called, forcing a cheerful tone into my voice.

When I stepped out, Vittorio was near the dining area, leaning over to closely inspect the Picasso painting that hung above the fireplace. His fingers hovered near the painting like he couldn't resist touching it. A white bakery box sat on the table behind him.

"I'll have to get that restorer over here," he muttered to himself. Vittorio loved his art, I had to give him that. Then he turned to me with a big smile. "There you are. Beautiful as always."

I fought the urge to wrap my arms around myself. "Thank you," I murmured, then gestured to the painting. "This one's new?"

"Just arrived." His fingers traced the air above the canvas, possessive. "Quite the masterpiece, wouldn't you say?"

I stared at the violent slashes of color, wondering if he saw the same chaos I did. "It's striking."

"A woman should know how to appreciate beauty, Pearl." His voice carried that familiar edge of warning beneath the softness.

My skin prickled at his words, at the way he could make everything sound like both a lesson and a threat. I forced myself to stay still, to keep my voice light. "Would you like a drink, Dad? We have ginger ale."

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