Unwanted Gravity

By Amelie Vesper

Unwanted Gravity is a forbidden romance about two lives tied together by fate long before either of them understood what that meant.

When Maitê came into the world, she turned my best friend's life upside down—and mine along with it. Back then, she was just a spoiled, demanding kid and I was the man who preferred silence, solitude, and uncomplicated living. Fourteen years separated us. Fourteen years that should have made any connection impossible.

But gravity doesn't ask for permission.

As Maitê grows, distance becomes the only shield I have. Our bond cools. Our lives drift apart. I tell myself it's better this way—safer this way. Yet every time she slips back into my life, I feel that same pull, stronger than reason, stronger than the rules I swore I'd never break. She's the one problem I never meant to face, and the one temptation I can't outrun.

What begins as a reluctant tie becomes a dangerous desire, a forbidden longing that threatens everything: loyalty, friendship, and the man I believed I was.

I shouldn't want her. But want has its own gravity—and it's pulling us both into a place we're not supposed to go.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amelie Vesper
• Release date: Nov 26, 2025
• ISBN: 9798232182670

Amelie Vesper

Amelie Vesper crafts dark romance, suspense, and thrillers that explore obsession, danger, and forbidden desires. Her gripping stories pull readers into shadowy worlds where passion burns, secrets unravel, and nothing is ever as it seems—perfect for those who crave the darker side of love.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Maitê Antonelli

DO WE REALLY HAVE TO go back? Olivia asked as she stepped out of the Uber with me.

You saying it like that makes it sound like you're not even a little homesick! I teased, letting out a small laugh.

After five years studying in Lisbon, it was time to go home. And honestly, even though I'd been living abroad, Belo Horizonte still felt like a charming city. I left Minas Gerais when I was eighteen, together with Olivia, when we moved to Lisbon to chase our dream: getting our degrees in Veterinary Medicine. It had been hard to leave my hometown and my family behind, but even from far away, my parents, Giovanni and Catarina, never once left me hanging. We talked every day, and at least once a year they came to visit me—though sometimes it felt like they were more interested in catching up on my life than actually curing their homesickness.

But despite all that difficulty, I had Olivia by my side. My best friend for as long as I can remember. Our parents work together, on the same team at the civil police department, so we were always glued to each other. Living this chapter of my life with her made everything lighter and more fun. It was comforting to have a little piece of home cheering me on while I chased this dream.

I'm really not okay with taking a nine-hour-and-forty-four-minute flight back to BH, Olivia groaned.

You look awful. I told you it wasn't a good idea to drink wine on our last day here.

And you didn't drink? she shot back, pushing the revolving airport door.

Okay, maybe I did drink a few glasses of wine, but at least I knew when to stop—unlike this reckless idiot who didn't care she'd wake up hungover.

I had self-control, while you were drowning your sorrows.

I'm not ready to face certain people again, she muttered under her breath.

Thomas. That was the one she didn't want to see. They dated until the end of high school, but when he found out Olivia had gotten into a university abroad, he ended things. He didn't want her to leave, and she sure as hell wasn't going to give up on her dream because of him—so he broke up with her. And less than three weeks later, he'd already moved on with another girl, absolutely wrecking my friend. Even after all these years, and even though she didn't love him the same way anymore, the subject still stung.

Silence hung between us as we looked at each other. It wasn't the best topic, but we knew it was time to move forward. Our journey was only just beginning. Freshly graduated, we had finally achieved our dream, and the clinic that hired us offered a decent salary. The excitement alone filled us with energy. It was a new chapter waiting to unfold.

The luggage rolled down the conveyer belts, voices blending with the hum of airplane turbines. I held our passports and boarding passes tightly.

We followed the signs for check-in. The line was long, but our excitement was bigger. I observed travelers of all different nationalities while we waited, each one with their own story and destiny. Olivia, beside me, smiled—we were feeling exactly the same. We were finally going home!

At the counter, the attendant greeted us with a smile. I handed over the documents, and she typed quickly before wishing us a good trip as she returned our boarding cards. With every step through that corridor, the stores and cafes faded behind us. The smell of coffee was comforting. It was the usual routine when traveling, but this time, as the boarding gate drew closer...

A chill ran through my stomach. It was real.

My dad just texted me, Olivia said, glancing at the notifications on her phone. Saturday everyone's getting together at your parents' place, celebrating that we're officially back in Brazil for good.

It'll be great to see everyone. I've missed those chaotic family gatherings.

You did understand what I meant by everyone, right? That demon of a man will be there! She stared at me with clear distress.

A shiver crawled up my spine.

The demon was none other than Dante Bellini. I'd known him for as long as I could remember, and he was the worst kind of person—especially toward me. I always felt like he had zero sympathy for me, and only put up with me because of our parents.

Just be polite. He's not going to bite us! I said. I think. And if it doesn't work out, just ignore him like he's ignored us our whole lives.

I still remember when he yelled at us because we accidentally bumped into him and made him drop his brand-new phone in the pool. I'm traumatized, Olivia muttered, frowning at the memory.

I remember the pinch I got from my mom. And honestly, when did he not yell at us? Everything we did or said was wrong, I grumbled.

It was funny. The more he tried to avoid you, the more you tried to get his attention. She laughed at the memory of our childhood.

Back then I wanted everyone to like me. I hated being ignored—or knowing someone didn't like me, I tried to justify.

Back then, you were obsessed with him, Tetê! As Olivia said that, my cheeks heated instantly. If she looked closely, she'd noticed I was turning into a tomato. Honestly, I always thought you had some kind of platonic crush on him.

I will leave you here alone if you keep annoying me.

You wouldn't dare, she challenged, clinching to my arm with a wide grin.

At the gate, the flight attendant welcomed us with a gentle smile.

Welcome aboard! she said, guiding us to our seats.

The roar of the turbines filled the cabin as the plane began to move.

I looked out the window and saw, for the last time, the city of Lisbon shrinking below us as we rose higher. The sky was clear, and the clouds looked like little cotton puffs of all shapes.

The hours passed quickly, and then Belo Horizonte appeared outside the window, bright with city lights and tall buildings. I squeezed my friend's hand, offering her a soft smile.

The landing was smooth, and the passengers applauded.

I glanced outside one last time before disembarking. I was finally home. Olivia and I were taking our first step into a new chapter. Arriving at the airport was only the beginning—after all, new experiences, friendships, and discoveries were waiting for us.

CHAPTER 1

Dante Bellini

CATARINA WALKED INTO my office with a tense expression.

What a damn pleasure to see you here, Catarina, I thought.

She wasn't just my best friend's wife — she was also someone I respected deeply. But there was one thing about her I could barely tolerate: her overbearing presence as a prosecutor. She had the annoying habit of barging into my space without the slightest warning, acting like the universe revolved around her.

In the legal world, her reputation came before her; known as the demon prosecutor, she was both respected and feared. And that title wasn't undeserved — standing in her way meant facing an implacable adversary. She threw herself into every case with obsessive dedication, executing her work with the kind of precision and perfection most professionals only dreamed of. Her competence was undeniable, and even if I hated admitting it, I admired her.

She walked closer, demanding my attention, and slammed the case file dramatically onto my desk.

Do you think this is enough? These pieces of evidence mean nothing. His lawyer can get him released with a bail request.

I shot to my feet, outraged.

Are you kidding me? This guy is the main suspect in murdering his wife and his own six-year-old son! Six years old, Catarina! And you're telling me he can walk because there isn't enough evidence? What the hell is this in my hand then? A stack of useless papers? I held up the file.

What you have there is solid, but not solid enough. She sighed. I want this bastard rotting behind bars as much as you do, but if I'm going to win this with a jury, I need more.

I nodded, even more frustrated. Sometimes I felt like quitting everything. How could a monster like that even have a chance at freedom? The system was a joke — a cruel, unfair joke.

Before leaving, Catarina checked her watch, her expression shifting.

Ah, and don't forget — we're expecting you on Saturday! My little girl arrives from Portugal today.

As if your husband hasn't yelled that into my ear all week, I joked.

Cut him some slack, our baby is finally coming home. She gave a small smile before walking out.

Maitê... I remember the day her idiot father told me the great news: he'd gotten his fourteen-year-old girlfriend pregnant. For fuck's sake — it was just a condom. Too much to remember?

As the days became months, Catarina's pregnancy became impossible to ignore. I'll admit, it was hard to digest the whole situation. Giovanni put his entire future on the line; he could barely focus on his studies, and his university admission was hanging by a thread. When Antônio, his older brother — my best friend and brother by choice — found out, the tension was suffocating. He was furious, ready to lose it.

And, to top it off, that entire mess started affecting my life. I remember that shit as if it were yesterday. Unfortunately, my parents, deceiving I'd follow the same path, kept me under damn constant surveillance. They were afraid I'd bring home an unexpected pregnancy too, and their paranoia was a stone in my shoe.

Then she was born, and I genuinely couldn't understand how that man cried so much because of her. A funny-looking baby who didn't just cry — she screamed. Her birth only reinforced everything I didn't want for my future: marriage and children. I didn't see myself in that life at all. Imagine coming home exhausted after a long shift and still having to deal with a wife and kids? Hell no. I like the stability of being on my own.

Time sped up, and the more she grew, the more distance I kept. Honestly, I had no reason to be close to Catarina and Giovanni's brat. She was spoiled as hell for my taste and, on top of that, a walking disaster — the girl could injure herself just by breathing. And when she turned eighteen and moved to Lisbon, I had to put up with my friend's daily drama.

Just remembering it makes my blood boil.

The office was silent after Catarina left. I sat again, staring at the file in my hands. The anger still pulsed through me. How could someone walk after committing something so horrific?

But my spiraling thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the ringing phone. Giovanni.

I sighed and answered, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Talk. I forced myself to hide the exhaustion.

I swear I'm going to have a heart attack; I'm too old for this, Dante! Giovanni's voice came frantically at the other end.

I closed my eyes and counted to three. Here came the drama.

He drew in a deep breath before continuing:

She's coming back today, from Lisbon. I can't stop thinking about how it's going to be. I know you don't have much patience with her, but...

But she's your daughter... I finished, softening my tone. I get it, Giovanni. I'll try to be more patient.

I know it's not easy for you, but thank you! His voice wavered. You're my best friend, Dante.

It's not easy for any of us, I muttered. But we'll get through it together.

He would be overflowing with pride, Giovanni said, the memory of his older brother warming his tone.

Yeah. I miss him like hell, I admitted, feeling that familiar ache in my chest.

Talking about Antônio Antonelli was never easy. He was the embodiment of kindness, strength, and intelligence — the type of man untouched by sadness. Our friendship started in school, sharing dreams, struggles, stupid jokes, and day-to-day life until it turned into a chosen brotherhood. He was the one who introduced me to his brother Giovanni, just a year younger, and from then on, the three of us were inseparable.

But life, unpredictable and cruel, had other plans. Right after his niece was born, came the devastating diagnosis: leukemia. In one year, the disease took him away, leaving a hole that nothing could fill. The loss crushed all of us. With time, little by little, Maitê helped the family heal with her presence — but for me, grief stayed, a constant shadow even after all these years.

We all feel it, Giovanni continued. But now, I need a favor...

I sighed. Why did I feel like I wasn't going to like what came next?

Look, I'm stuck here at the prosecutor's office. Traffic is hell on the way back, and I won't make it to the airport in time to pick up Maitê. Can you go get her?

Fuck.

I pressed the phone harder against my ear, feeling tension crawl up my neck. Giovanni sounded desperate, and I knew I couldn't say no.

Fine, I said, trying to stay calm. I'll get her. When do I need to be there?

In about two hours, he said. But things are bad. Traffic's a damn nightmare.

I cursed in silence again. Why the hell had I gotten myself into this? But there was no time to complain. The brat was coming back, and I couldn't disappoint my friend.

I'm heading out now, I said. By the time I get there, her flight should be landing.

Thanks, my friend, Giovanni sighed, relieved. Saturday I'll buy you your favorite beer.

I laughed.

I'll hold you to that.

I hung up and rushed out of the office. The hot Belo Horizonte sun hit me as soon as I stepped outside. Traffic was a nightmare, but I couldn't go back out now.

At the International Airport in Confins, I followed the signs for arrivals. The hall was full of anxious travelers and electronic panels showing incoming flights. I checked my watch — her plane had either landed or was about to.

I moved toward the arrival area where people waited with signs and hopeful smiles. A knot formed in my throat. Sunlight poured through the big windows, but I felt none of its warmth. My stomach tightened, and the lump in my throat felt suffocating.

Maitê... Her name echoed in my mind like a curse. I'd never had affection for her, especially as a kid. Unfortunately, she reminded me of her uncle — her loud laugh, her terrible jokes, her clumsiness. She was a living copy of his personality; and worse, she was everything I wasn't: cheerful, optimistic, full of life. How the hell could someone be so annoyingly happy all the time?

I remembered the days when she was just a little kid, stumbling down Giovanni's hallway. She'd break things, spill food, and act like none of it was her fault. Every time I saw her, my desire to never have children increased. I'd never gotten along with children, never connected with them — and they didn't like me either.

A loud noise erupted near the arrival door as passengers started walking out.

I saw her before she saw me — and holy shit...

Five years ago, Maitê had been a chubby little thing, with colorful clothes and glasses way too big for her face. She was clumsy, forever tripping over her own feet, leaving a trail of crumbs everywhere she went. But now, watching her step through the airport doors, I barely recognized her. She'd turned into one hell of a woman, to put it mildly. Dark hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, and she wore a comfy knit set that hugged her curves. Her face was free of glasses, revealing expressive eyes and well-defined lips. She had an air of confidence that hadn't existed before — like she'd conquered the world in Lisbon.

A sudden mix of surprise and discomfort hit me. How had that awkward kid turned into someone so... damn attractive?

Jesus, you're my witness — I'm trying my hardest not to call this girl fucking gorgeous!

Giovanni, forgive me, I begged silently.

Next to her was Olivia — brat number two — who, if I was being honest, didn't seem to have changed at all. She still had that troublemaker aura, like she was always ready to drag Maitê into something reckless. Unlike me, Antônio, and Giovanni, who met at school and stuck together for life, Olivia and Maitê had been glued to each other since they were babies. Olivia's father, Luca, was an old friend from law school. Together, we'd formed an unlikely trio in both our professional and personal lives, while the girls built an inseparable friendship of their own. They even chose the same major, as if destiny had forced them into a package deal.

While brat number one and brat number two chatted, I noticed the smaller brat suddenly freeze. Her eyes locked on me, and she went pale. Without hesitation, she nudged her friend, who also turned. Maitê's eyes widened, and I could swear she even held her breath.

I smirked. They're still afraid of me. What a joke, I thought.

I'll admit it — I'd never been the nice guy with them. I was more like the grumpy uncle type, the one who didn't smile, a real boogeyman. But I remembered how Maitê always found a way to stick near me. And now, standing here in the airport after all these years, I had the strange sense she might try that again — and I wouldn't be able to push her away this time.

Lost in that thought, I looked at the little torment of my past, and suddenly I couldn't take my eyes off her. Something felt different — and fuck, I felt something vibrate in my chest. Was I having a heart attack? Had to be. Honestly, I had the sinking feeling this was going to bite me in the ass later — pun intended.

Sex. I just needed sex, that had to be it...

These past three weeks, work had eaten me alive. I wasn't the kind of guy who needed a pussy every other day — hell, I barely went out at all — but right now that was the only explanation for this shitstorm inside me.

And who knows, maybe in the process I'd calm the hell down. God knows I needed a break.

CHAPTER 2

Maitê Antonelli

FIVE YEARS HAD GONE by since the last time I saw Dante, and unlike Olivia, I had to admit I'd always carried a quiet curiosity about him, a spark of interest I barely understood even now.

Now, standing in the middle of the arrivals hall, as our eyes met, it felt like the ground disappeared beneath my feet. There was an intensity in his gaze I had never seen before. He recognized me, but something in the way he looked at me made my heart race. It was like he was seeing the Maitê he used to know, but also something... different.

I had to confess that in the split second I managed to take him in, fuck, he was still gorgeous. Of course I wouldn't deny it — Dante was handsome, the kind of man who carried authority and mystery in his characteristics. Even more now, with the light streaming through the window and catching on him. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, revealing the confidence he radiated, a welcome shift from the stiffness I remembered.

But it wasn't just his serious posture or the subtle, almost hidden strands of gray threading through his hair that caught my attention. At his waist, the civil police badge gleamed, and beside it, his gun. The sight was becoming uncomfortably hot, stirring something low in my body — something I really didn't want to be feeling for my dad's best friend.

Olivia nudged my arm, snapping me back to reality.

Are you okay? she whispered.

But I could barely answer. Dante was coming closer, and each step he took seemed to echo inside my chest.

Hi, Dante, I said, my voice steadier than I expected. You look good. Time's been generous with you.

He looked at me, and for a brief moment I caught a flicker of surprise on his face before he masked it.

Maitê, he said. You've changed.

I wanted to say something else, anything, but the words seemed stuck in my throat. There was a tension in the air, a charge, something I'd never felt before in my life, connecting Dante and me in a way I couldn't explain.

Olivia watched everything with an amused expression. She'd always suspected something about my curiosity toward Dante, and now, more than ever, she was witnessing an encounter thick with sensations neither of us had seen coming.

Uncle Dante, still punctual as always, huh? But hey, how about we swap this suspenseful aura for something more useful? Help us with the bags, that'll be a great start, she teased, cutting through the heavy silence between us with a light smile and a hint of humor.

I shot Olivia a quick look, a silent warning for her to ease up with the jokes.

Dante gave her a look that was a mix of sarcasm and surprise.

I'm not your uncle. Or yours, he added, pointing at me with a theatrical gesture. You really haven't changed, still the same little brat as always. And now, on top of everything, I've got to take you too? Where's your father? Why isn't he picking you up? he asked, one eyebrow arched.

Before the tension could rise again, a familiar voice cut through the noise of the terminal.

I'm right here! Luca appeared like a beacon of joy, arms wide open in a warm invitation. And where are my girls? he called, his smile lighting up his whole face.

Dad!

Uncle Luca!

Olivia and I yelled in unison, our hearts overflowing with happiness. Our suitcases were forgotten on the floor as we ran into his arms, into that bear hug that always made us feel at home, no matter where we were.

Uncle Luca was more than just an uncle to me; he was a safe harbor, a partner in mischief, a confidant when life felt uncertain. Memories of all the pranks and laughter in Olivia's house washed over me, bringing a nostalgic smile to my lips. He had always been the liberal uncle, the one who understood our dreams and never judged us for them. My friend really did have the best dad in the world. Mine was wonderful too, but sometimes his protection felt more like a cage, and it suffocated me.

Dante, caught off guard by Luca's enthusiasm, hesitated for a moment. Then his usually serious face softened into a genuine smile, and he gave Luca a friendly pat on the back.

Good to see you, my friend, he said, his voice carrying a mix of affection and respect. How are the days of medical leave treating you?

I watched them, a faint worry creeping in. Luca came from a line of police officers — his grandfather and father had both worn the badge — so he'd always been active and deeply involved in his work. But a month ago, he'd been seriously injured while serving a warrant, one of those days when routine exploded into chaos and every second mattered.

Luca gave him a playful punch on the shoulder, a joking gesture that only half hid the truth of his recovery.

The days feel like an eternity, but I'm getting there, he said with a resilient smile. The doctor's optimistic. I've got an appointment in two days. He'll evaluate me, and if everything looks good, he might even clear me on the spot — but that's only if I keep up with physiotherapy.

Dante smiled back, the mutual respect between them almost tangible.

I don't doubt it for a second, he said. The team misses you, Luca. You make a difference there.

Then a voice beside me gently cut through the moment.

Sorry to interrupt this emotional meeting, but I'm exhausted, Olivia said, looking at her father with a blend of affection and fatigue. I need to recharge for tomorrow. We'll have plenty of time to catch up with everyone, right?

Luca nodded, understanding his daughter's limits.

Of course, sweetheart. Let's go home, he agreed, turning to gather the suitcases scattered on the floor.

My friend wrapped me in a warm hug, a goodbye that carried way more meaning than we could put into words.

Good luck with him, she whispered in my ear, a note of encouragement that made my heart beat a little faster.

Uncle Luca pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, his fatherly smile never fading.

Take care, dear, he murmured before walking away with his daughter, leaving a trail of laughter and easy conversation behind them.

And then it was just Dante and me, wrapped in a silence as thick as fog. His presence felt like the weight of an approaching storm, and I found myself unexpectedly intimidated, as if every look he gave me carried a silent challenge. There's no way he has this kind of effect on me, I muttered inwardly, a quiet confession of just how vulnerable I suddenly felt.

He stared at me.

So... he said at last, his deep voice cutting through the silence. I guess it's time for us to go too, isn't it?

I nodded, my heart pounding in a frantic rhythm of nerves and anticipation.

Yeah, let's go, I managed, my voice barely more than a whisper lost in the vastness of the airport terminal.

Dante bent to grab my suitcases from the floor, not letting me help, carrying all of them like they weighed nothing.

As we walked side by side, I could feel the warmth radiating from him, a gravitational pull drawing me closer. There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions I wanted to ask, but for now, I was strangely content just being there, next to him. This new mesh of feelings left me completely off balance; Dante's nearness stirred sensations in me I was struggling to understand. Despite his distant treatment throughout my childhood, there was something about him that had always pulled me in, something that made me crave his attention even when I knew better. It was an emotional paradox I still hadn't figured out — but I had the awful feeling it was going to cause me trouble later.

Desenho de personagem de desenho animado Descrição gerada automaticamente com confiança média

SITTING IN THE PASSENGER seat of the black Jeep Cherokee, Dante's presence seemed to seep into every corner of the car. Everything inside reflected him: sober, restrained, with a severe kind of elegance. The silence between us felt thick, like an invisible wall, and the tension hung in the air so heavily bordered on claustrophobic.

After a few minutes of hesitation, I finally tried to break the ice.

Dante, I began, my voice tentative as I tested the waters. Can I connect my phone to the car's speakers?

Before I could even reach for the radio, Dante reacted sharply. His eyes hardened, and his voice came out firm, carrying a hint of contained irritation.

I'd rather you didn't touch the sound system, he said, each word heavy with unquestionable purpose. The kind of music you like isn't exactly what I want to hear right now.

His answer hit me colder than I expected. What I'd hoped would become a comfortable silence suddenly thickened into something suffocating. His penetrating stare left no room for argument. I quickly pulled back, a wave of discomfort washing through me.

Sorry, I murmured, unable to look at him any longer.

Silence settled over the car again — but now it was tense, charged with unspoken disapproval. I shrank into my seat, feeling like I'd broken some unwritten rule. There was a clear distance between us, a barrier I had no idea how to cross, and the sense of being an intruder in his world only grew.

I thought the discomfort would stay with us until the end of the drive — until I saw his hand move, slowly, toward the dashboard. With an expression still unreadable, Dante activated the phone connection. My heart stuttered at the unexpected gesture.

He turned to me, his gaze softer, though still serious.

Pick a song, he said, without enthusiasm, as if he were giving in reluctantly.

How about... Backstreet Boys? I suggested, in a light attempt to break the tension — a lingering memory of the music my dad always mentioned from their youth.

For a split second, I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

Backstreet Boys? he muttered, and there was something almost nostalgic in his voice.

Yes! I blurted out too fast, already nervous at his lack of reaction. I mean, it could be something better, like... I don't know, Sabrina Carpenter or something more modern. But Honestly, you don't seem like someone with... amazing music taste.

The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to evaporate. Dante turned his head toward me, one eyebrow raised, wearing an expression that said more than any words could.

I'm not saying your taste is bad! I rushed out, tripping over my own explanation and waving my hands awkwardly. It's just that... well, you seem more... traditional? Old people like more classic stuff and— God, that's not what I meant!

He kept staring at me with the same serious expression, eyebrow still lifted, and I felt myself sinking deeper with every second. My face was burning, and his silence made everything so much worse.

Okay, I'm going to stop talking now, I whispered, curling into myself as I turned toward the window.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mouth move — like he was holding back a laugh — but he quickly summarized his serious façade.

Backstreet Boys it is, he said at last, turning on the song.

The song filled the space between us, familiar and unexpectedly soothing. Dante stayed serious, but something in his posture eased, as if the music had softened the sharp edges of his mood. It was a trick — silent, temporary — but still a trick.

Unfortunately, reality caught up with us. We were getting close to Savassi, the elegant, lively neighborhood where my parents lived. Anxiety began creeping back in, stretching long like shadows at dusk.

I'd missed home so much.

The music still played softly when Dante's phone rang. I glanced at the screen and saw his face harden when he read my father's name. He answered, his voice slipping instantly into the severe tone I knew far too well.

Giovanni, I'm listening... he said firmly, pausing as he listened. Understood. I'm on my way.

When he hung up, he cast me a brief glance.

I need to go back to the station. New evidence came in, he said, his tone brisk, urgent beneath the controlled calm.

Of course, I understand, I replied, trying to offer a bit of reassurance.

When we arrived at my parents' house, Dante parked with precise movements and stepped out to grab my suitcases. He moved quickly, but distantly — completing his duty, nothing more. There was no warmth to spare, no unnecessary gestures. His expression remained closed off, building yet another wall I couldn't scale.

Inside, the silence followed us. Dante took in the house as if searching for something, and for one foolish moment, I thought he might stay. But instead, he pulled a card from his pocket and set it on the entrance table.

Are you going to be okay here alone? he asked quietly.

Yes, of course. My brother's probably on his way back from tutoring, so I won't be alone for long, I said, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes. Thank you for bringing the bags...

If you need anything, call me. My number's on the card, he said, and there was a hint of sincerity in his voice that caught me off guard.

I picked up the card, my fingers slightly trembling.

Thank you, I whispered again.

He gave a small nod and turned to leave. I watched him step down each stair until he disappeared from sight. The sound of the car driving away echoed faintly, and I stood there, swallowed by the silence, holding the card with his number. Then I exhaled slowly, releasing tension I hadn't even noticed I was gripping, washed by a conflicting mix of relief and melancholy.

I shut and locked the door with a soft click, still staring at the card, wondering what it meant. The weight of each printed digit felt heavier than a simple phone number — it was as if it symbolized all the unspoken tension lingering between us.

He could have left without saying anything, and maybe it would've been easier if he had. But he didn't. The card, with its simple If you need anything, call, only deepened my confusion. He was offering something I knew I'd never ask for, yet the mere possibility of calling him stirred something unsettling inside me. I wondered what the gesture really meant — or if I was imagining things entirely. Because even knowing I'd never dial that number, the idea that I could make my stomach twist.

I took a deeper breath, trying to calm the tremor in my fingers. The silence in the house seemed to expect something from me — a decision, an action, anything to break the stillness. But I wasn't ready to move mountains. Not those.

Guilt pressed down on me, a suffocating wave threatening to pull me under.

What the hell is happening to me? I whispered to myself as the confusion rooted itself deeper. Dante had something that pulled me in — absolute control over himself, a seriousness I couldn't ignore. Every interaction was a silent dance between what he showed and what he hid, and somehow, that only drew me closer.

His coldness and distance didn't push me away — they intensified the urge to break through that wall, to understand what lived behind that impenetrable exterior. He was someone important to my father, someone my family trusted blindly. Maybe that made him even more unreachable — and paradoxically, more tempting.

There was something in the way he held himself together that made me want to see beneath it. Every word he spoke, every gesture, left me vulnerable, and the disconnect between his reserved posture and the impact he had on me was devastating.

It was clear I needed to change, to stop being so vulnerable to every look, every movement. My romantic nature always pushed me to believe blindly in love, to give myself fully to men I barely knew. Now was the time to turn the page, to build strength and determination where I'd never had them.

The challenge was figuring out how.

CHAPTER 3

Maitê Antonelli

I WOKE UP WITH THE first rays of sun slipping through the cracks in the window. Today was my first real day back in Brazil, and on top of that, today was the day I'd finally kill the longing for everyone I'd missed. I hadn't managed to see my parents yesterday; they probably got home really late because of work, which was pretty normal for them.

As I stretched in bed, a wave of excitement washed over me.

Everything's going to be over the top and absurdly perfect, I thought, because of course it would be, with how dramatic my parents are. But I knew it wasn't in a bad way, and I was sure they'd planned everything with love.

I went downstairs, my soft footsteps echoing through the quiet house. The living room opened up in front of me, elegant and beautiful. Every object, every piece of furniture seemed to have been placed with deliberate intention, reflecting my parents' meticulous nature. Morning light bathed the space, highlighting the shine of the polished floor and the contrast of the vibrant cushions on the couch.

Here, perfection wasn't just an idea, it was something you could touch. There wasn't a speck of dust on any surface; the shelves were lined with books, their spines forming a rainbow of knowledge. Even the air felt cleaner, carrying the subtle scent of lavender my mother loved so much.

That perfection, though, went beyond aesthetics. It was a reflection of my parents themselves. They were the kind of people who found harmony in routine, who saw beauty in symmetry, and who taught, without words, the value of every small gesture.

Sometimes I felt like I lived in one of those commercials showing a perfectly harmonious family, where everyone is flawless—but, if you wrote everything down, it wasn't exactly like that.

Still lost in my thoughts, I heard soft footsteps in the hallway, breaking the morning silence. I lifted my head and, before I could even process what was happening, saw my parents walk into the room. My mother wore a warm smile on her face and, in her hands, a bouquet of sunflowers—my favorite flowers. The yellow petals shone like tiny suns, radiating a welcoming energy that warmed my chest.

Sweetheart! she exclaimed, coming toward me and pulling me into a tight hug. Her familiar perfume wrapped around me, bringing that wave of comfort only she could give. I'm sorry about yesterday. We got home late from work and didn't want to wake you up.

Yeah, we knew how tired you'd be after the flight, my dad added, already coming closer to pulling me into a hug too. He was less demonstrative, but the firm pressure of his hands on my back carried all the safety and longing he felt.

I missed you so much, I confessed, my voice muffled against my mother's shoulder. The truth was that this simple moment already made all the difference after so long away.

My father stepped back a little, but kept his hands on my shoulders as he looked at me with tenderness.

I hope you had a good trip back. Did Dante get you home okay?

His tone was casual, but just hearing Dante's name made my heart trip over itself. I felt my cheeks heat instantly, the blush rising to my face before I could stop it.

Y-yeah, of course! I stammered, trying to sound nonchalant. He got me here safe.

My mother's gauze settled on me, a mix of concern and maternal intuition dancing in her eyes. I hated to admit it,