Episode 2

...(⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠) *Lorenzo Moretti* (⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)...

My name is Lorenzo Moretti, CEO of the Moretti Group, one of the largest business conglomerates in Italy. To the world, I am a ruthless, cold, and calculating businessman. To the press, I am mysterious and unreachable. To my enemies, I am an impossible problem to solve.

And to Isabella Vasquez, I am the man who hates her.

Five years ago, she was the only woman for whom I was able to lower my guard. The only one for whom I truly allowed myself to feel something. And it was a mistake. When I saw her get into my enemy Ernandes' car, on the day my projects disappeared, I knew it wasn't a coincidence. She was with him, the photos I received, the evidence I received, everything led me to her.

She destroyed me.

Looking back, I still wonder how I was so foolish. Me, Lorenzo Moretti, believing in love. It sounds like a joke.

The problem is that Isabella was good at it. She knew exactly how to make a man fall in love. Her innocent smile, her light laughter, her furtive glances... Everything about her seemed real. Until one day, I discovered her betrayal, and it destroyed me.

The image of her getting into that scoundrel's car was etched in my mind like a damn tattoo.

She tried to deny it. Tried to justify herself. But I didn't want to listen. I didn't need to. I had already seen enough.

And then, I let her go.

She died to me that night.

Since then, I have never trusted anyone again. I have never allowed myself to feel anything beyond what is necessary. Women? Just distractions that I have been avoiding. Relationships? An unnecessary risk.

My focus was only one thing: my business.

I built an unshakeable empire, expanded my investments, increased my fortune. And now, years later, there was nothing I couldn't have.

Nothing but peace.

The sound of ice clinking against the glass brought me back to the present.

I held the glass of whiskey firmly, swirling the amber liquid inside. The drink went down hot through my throat as I leaned against the office table, watching the city through the huge glass wall.

The lights of Milan shone in the distance, but everything seemed monotonous. As always.

I was about to pour myself another drink when I heard the office door open.

"You shouldn't drink so much, Lorenzo."

The soft, yet firm, voice of Dona Eleonora Moretti filled the room. I sighed and turned slowly, facing my grandmother.

She was a woman of presence. Even with her advanced age, she still exuded elegance and authority. Her impeccable bun and the astute glint in her eyes made it clear that she hadn't come here by chance.

"To what do I owe the honor of the visit, nonna?" I asked, raising the glass in a sarcastic toast.

She entered the office without caring about my irony and sat in the armchair in front of me, calmly crossing her legs.

"I want to talk about something very important."

I huffed and took another sip.

"Since when do you make unexpected visits to talk about something important?" I am surprised now.

She looked at me without showing emotions.

"Since your reputation is at stake, and you don't seem to care."

Here we go.

"My reputation?" I gave a half-smile. "My empire is growing. My investments have doubled in the last quarter. My name remains intact. What else matters?"

She gave me a sharp look.

"Your image."

I remained silent. I knew exactly what she was talking about.

In recent months, rumors have begun to circulate in the press. Speculation about my sexuality. First, it was a bad taste joke in some tabloid. Then, an article insinuating that I was never seen with women. Then, the comments on social media questioning my sexual orientation.

And now, according to my grandmother, this was affecting my business.

Luxury magazines were already starting to say that I was "too mysterious", that my lack of love scandals was "suspicious", and that "perhaps Lorenzo Moretti was not interested in women." In other words, to many I am Gay.

In the business world, perception is everything.

My jaw clenched, but I remained calm.

"They are just rumors."

My grandmother smiled.

"And you know that rumors can become truths if they are repeated many times."

I crossed my arms.

"Where are you going with this, nonna?"

She leaned forward, with a cunning look.

"I want you to get married."

I blinked slowly, absorbing what she had just said. Then, I let out a dry laugh.

"You're joking."

"I am not."

My smile disappeared.

"Nonna, I'm not going to get married because of gossip. That's ridiculous. If my grandfather were alive, you wouldn't even dare to mention this subject."

She remained impassive.

"He's not here to protect you, that's why you don't mature. Let your grandfather rest in peace," she rebuked me. "I'm not suggesting a real marriage. Just a contract. A temporary wife to shut the press up. You won't have to live with her."

I closed my eyes for a second.

"I don't need this."

"Yes, you do. Or do you want your investors to start hesitating to close deals with you because your image is tarnished, and bankrupt our family's company?"

I bit the inside of my cheek. Damn it, she knew how to get to me.

She realized she had shaken me and continued:

"It won't be a real marriage, Lorenzo. Only civil, no ceremony. Just some basic interviews for the press, and then, everyone goes their own way."

My mind was spinning. A contract. Just a contract.

It would be a nuisance, but... it would be an effective solution.

"And who will be the lucky "wife"? I asked, mocking.

"Don't worry about that. I've already chosen someone appropriate. Just worry about showing up on the day of the civil wedding to sign."

I raised an eyebrow.

"And this woman agreed to this?"

Dona Eleonora smiled.

"She needs the money. You need the intact reputation. Sounds like a great deal, don't you think?"

I sighed, swirling the whiskey in the glass.

This was a game I didn't want to play. But I knew that, in the business world, what matters is not what we want, but what we need to do. And at the moment, I needed to put an end to these rumors.

"Only civil. No involvement. No contact?"

She nodded.

"Exactly."

I narrowed my eyes. What kind of woman would accept this?

But, in the end, it didn't matter. I didn't care to know her name. It was a win-win deal. If I didn't need to interact with this woman, everything would be simpler.

But I still had conditions to impose.

"If I accept this, there will be some rules," I said, staring at my grandmother.

She raised her eyebrows, waiting.

"The wedding will be only civil. No party, no ceremony, no guests. All this is necessary to validate the document. This was your rule number one!" I asked, trying to understand.

"That was already planned," she confirmed.

"Then rule number 2 is no photos together, no aspect. The only thing that will come out in the newspapers will be a formal announcement informing that I got married. I will wear a ring on my finger, that's enough."

She narrowed her eyes.

"The newspapers will want more, you know that."

"Fuck the newspapers. I don't want my personal life exposed."

Dona Eleonora sighed.

"Okay. No photos. But you will need to be present at the registry office to sign the papers. And the photographers will be there to take the photos, and of course, some reporters with basic questions about you two. And after that, you will be responsible for attracting all of them away from there, so they don't know who your bride is."

"Obviously. I don't even want to see her!"

She tilted her head, a calm smile playing on her lips.

"Deal." She stood up and adjusted her coat. "In a week, it will be the wedding."

I nodded and turned my chair to the city view, and she left.

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