Luciana's POV
The wineglass in my hand was perpetually full, but I barely took a sip, my steps wearing a track into the thick rug of the living room. Every circling minute brought me back to the night of the bombing, and the unsettling image of Romano. I was certain he’d orchestrated something, his next move already a shadow on the wall. His demeanor that night had been a chilling break from the vicious man I knew—a stark contrast to his true personality. If he had no hidden agenda, he would have simply left me lying there after I fainted. Instead, he’d roused me, played the role of the considerate gentleman, even offering to carry me because of the cut on my knee.
A faint, cynical smirk stretched my lips. It made no sense. Romano, the man who cared for no one but his own shadow, offeri
