CR

oze button before burying my face in my pillow. Just five more minutes. Except five minutes turned into ten, and by the ti

my eyes before dragging myself out of bed. My feet padded across the cool wooden floor as I made my way to the bathroom. A splash of cold water to my face did wonders in shaking off the la

zz of excitement in my chest. Wrapping myself in a towel, I walked back into my room, rifling through my wardrobe for something to wear. I settled on a floral sundress that

e over her shoulder. I rolled my eyes, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee. "Morning, Mom." She eyed me as I slid into a chair, taking a sip of my drink. "You're up early for a Sunday. G

ickly typed a response. Mia: Got it. What time should I come by? His reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for my response. Marco: 11:30 AM. I'll send my address. I stared at the message, my pulse betraying me with a slight flutter. There was nothing unusual about this. Clients invited me to meetings all the time. I'd visited corporate offices, attended business dinners. But this wasn't a boardroom or a café. This was his home. I inhaled deeply, trying to push aside the nervous energy creeping in. I wasn't going to Marco's house as anything more than a business associate. It didn't matter that his voice had a way of making my skin tingle, or that I had caught myself staring at the way his jaw clenched when he sipped his coffee. This was about books. About the orphanage. About work. At least, that's what I kept telling myself. I took one last look at myself in the mirror before grabbing my purse. My floral dress swayed slightly as I moved, and I ran a hand over my blonde waves, making sure they were in place. It wasn't like I was trying to impress Marco-I wasn't. But there was something about him that made me more conscious of my appearance. Shaking off the thought, I made my way outside, only to halt in my tracks. A sleek black car was parked in front of my house, its polished surface gleaming under the morning sun. The driver, a well-dressed older man with a poised demeanor, stepped out as soon as he spotted me. "Miss Cruz?" His voice was deep and professional. I blinked. "Uh, yes?" He nodded respectfully. "I'm here on behalf of Mr. Valentino. He asked me to bring you to the estate." For a moment, I just stood there, taken aback. I had expected to drive myself. But of course, Marco Valentino wasn't the kind of man to do things halfway. Still, something about this felt... personal. I hesitated for only a second before reminding myself this was business. Nothing more. With a small nod, I adjusted the strap of my purse and approached the car. The driver-Cursey, I assumed-opened the door for me, and I slid into the plush leather seat. As the door shut behind me, sealing me inside the luxury vehicle, I let out a slow breath. This wasn't just a simple book deal. I was stepping into his world now. As the car approached Marco Valentino's estate, my breath caught in my throat. The wrought-iron gates loomed ahead, tall and imposing, adorned with intricate patterns that whispered of old mon