My voice was barely a whisper. “Ronan Romano.”
She frowned, glancing back at the tablet. “That would be a tremendous loss,habibi.”
I looked at her, the curiosity and concern in her eyes mingling. “Tremendous loss? How?”
She sighed, leaning back in her chair. “He paid five hundredthousand euros for his seat, which is about ten times the cost of a single ticket, and donated an additional two million euros to the show.”
The room seemed to tilt, and I gripped the edge of the table for support.
Two million euros?It was an astronomical amount, enough to ensure the show’s success and secure my brand’s future.
But at what cost?
Why now?
“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Inaya nodded. “I double-checked the figures myself. His donation is the largest we’ve received.”
Why was Ronan doing this?
What did he want?
I had worked so hard to distance myself from the past, to build a new life and a new identity, and now it seemed he was determined to be part of it once more.
Moreover, I hated that I couldn’t forget him.
I still remember the night it all fell apart. Ronan had promised me the world, and I, foolishly in love, had believed him. We were supposed to move to New York together, to start a life filled with art, fashion, and medicine. I had spent weeks preparing for our future, envisioning a romantic adventure where we would conquer the fashion world side by side.
But then it all fell apart, and I left behind my naïve belief that love alone could conquer all.
I closed my eyes, trying to push back the tidal wave of bitterness and hurt that still lingered. It was maddening how, after all these years, his name could still reduce me to this raw, vulnerable state.
“Nina, are you okay?” Her voice was soft, her hand resting lightly on my arm.
I took a deep breath, forcing a smile. “I’m surprised.”
She nodded, though her eyes remained skeptical. “If you want, I can handle all the communications with him. You don’t have to see or talk to him if you don’t want to.”
I appreciated her offer, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. If Ronan was coming to my show,to Italy, our paths would inevitably cross. I had to be prepared, not only to face him, but to face the wounds that had never fully healed.
“Let’s keep him on the list,” I replied finally, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “But please, handle all the arrangements regarding his attendance.”
“Of course. I’ll take care of everything.”
Inaya left the office, and my thoughts spiraled into a chaotic whirl. The past I had tried so hard to forget was now hurtling back into my life with the force of a freight train.
But I was no longer the naive girl who had fallen for Ronan Romano. I was stronger, wiser, and ready to face whatever came next.
I glanced around the office, my gaze landing on a sketch I had pinned to the wall—a design inspired by dreams of love and hope. It was time to reclaim those dreams, to show the world I was a force to be reckoned with.
The day passed in a haze with Ronan inevitably on my mind.
I’d always thought of him, but from a distance.
Sometimes, when I looked at my peonies or ate gelato, memories of us flooded back—our good times, our happiness. But I longed for a time when I could remember him without remembering the pain.
I couldn’t look at another man without searching for Ronan in him—the blue-gray eyes, that annoyingly perfect face. But then came the heartbreak, and thinking about it broke me all overagain.
