"I kissed him first. And then he kissed me back. And then he told me it was a mistake and that I should leave once he gets his title."
"What an asshole."
"Oliver."
"What? He is." Oliver leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You kiss the guy, he kisses you back like he means it, and then he tells you to get lost? That's textbook asshole behavior."
I want to argue, but I can't. Because Oliver is right. Bruno is an asshole. A complicated, damaged, infuriating asshole who makes me feel things I don't want to feel.
"He's scared," I say quietly. "Of letting anyone close."
"That's not your problem to fix."
"I know."
"Do you?" Oliver reaches across the table and takes my hand. "Nell, you've spent your whole life fixing other people's problems. Your dad's gambling. Your sister's drama. Your brother's... whatever Claudio's deal is. You don't have to fix this guy too."
The server returns with our order. I wrap my hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into my fingers.
"I'm not trying to fix him," I say. "I just... I thought there was something there. Something real."
"Maybe there is. But if he's too broken to see it, that's on him. Not you."
"Tell me about work," I say. "Tell me something normal."
Oliver grins. "You want normal? Last week, a guest tried to check in with a live chicken. Said it was his emotional support animal."
I laugh. It feels foreign in my throat, rusty from disuse. "You're making that up."
"I swear on my mother's grave. The chicken's name was Gerald."
We talk for an hour. Oliver tells me about the hotel, about his coworkers. I tell him about Aria, about Kristen's kindness, about the rose garden where I've been spending my mornings.
Bruno
My phone buzzes.
I glance at the screen. Carlo's name. A text.
Mrs. Sartori requested a ride into the city. Meeting a friend at Riverside Coffee on Main.
I stare at the message for a long moment.
She left. Without telling me. Without asking.
Good. That's what I wanted. Distance. Space. The kiss was a mistake, and she needs to understand that this arrangement has boundaries.
I set the phone down and return to the security reports spread across my desk. Valentino's intel on the warehouse hit. Names. Locations. The man with the scar who hired the crew.
The words blur together.
She's in the city. Meeting a friend.
I don't care. She can meet whoever she wants. She's not my prisoner.
The kiss replays in my mind. Her lips soft against mine. The way she tasted. The sound she made when I pulled her closer.
Mistake. It was a mistake.