Chapter 81 CHAPTER 081

Chapter 81 CHAPTER 081
Vincenzo’s words sent a chill down Anna’s spine, knocking the air from her lungs. 

Slowly, he pulled back, his dark eyes locking onto hers for a long, cold second, ensuring she felt every warning behind his words.

Then he turned and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. A moment later, the sound of running water filled the room.

Anna remained rooted in place, the ghost of Vincenzo’s whisper still chilling her skin.

Gathering herself, she closed the bedroom door and sank onto the edge of the bed.

Vincenzo’s words echoed relentlessly in her mind, repeating over and over, leaving a hollow ache in her chest.

Deep down, she knew he was right.

She did not belong here.

In a year, she would disappear from their lives, as if she had never existed at all.

There was no point in getting close with them.

By the time Vincenzo stepped out, Anna didn’t even notice; her gaze was fixed on the floor.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind him, and a thin stream of steam drifted into the room.

He quickly slipped on boxers and pants, slipped into a plain black T-shirt, and turned toward her. 

“Anna.”

She jumped, spinning around. “Um… yes?”

“I’m done. Go shower.”

“Okay,” Anna murmured, rising from the bed.

Vincenzo moved to his wardrobe and pulled another towel from the shelf, handing it to her without meeting her eyes.

Anna took it. “Thank you… Boss.”

He spun sharply, his dark gaze locking onto hers. “Don’t call me Boss. Not here.”

“Then… what should I call you?” she asked softly.

“Vincenzo.”

Anna stared at him for a long moment, then nodded silently. 

He moved to the bed and sank down, picking up his phone and scrolling through it.

She stayed standing, clutching the towel, unwilling to remove her clothes. She needed to undress—and she couldn’t do it with him watching.

“Bo… Vincenzo,” Anna stammered.

Calling him by his name felt strange, heavy on her tongue, because she was used to calling him “Boss.”

Vincenzo turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “What is it?”

“I… I want to undress,” she admitted, her cheeks burning.

“Go ahead. I’m not stopping you,” he said, returning his attention to his phone.

With no other choice, Anna stepped into the bathroom to change.

Inside, she undressed quickly, the hot, steamy air raising goosebumps across her skin.

She took a fast shower, but the rushing water did little to wash away the tension still knotting her nerves.

When she finished, Anna realized her mistake—she hadn’t brought a fresh set of clothes. They were still in the bedroom. 

Wrapping the towel tightly around herself, she clutched the clothes she’d worn earlier in one hand, hesitating for a moment before opening the bathroom door.

The moment she stepped into the room, Vincenzo’s gaze landed on her.

Heat prickled up her neck and chest, and she became painfully aware of how little the towel actually covered.

She hurried to the laundry bag beside the wardrobe, folded her worn clothes, and dropped them inside.

Noticing her unease, Vincenzo looked back at his phone, leaving her with a fleeting sense of relief—and a lingering tension.

Anna opened her suitcase and pulled out an old pair of pajamas—a soft, purple cotton set.

Moving to a corner of the room, with the towel still wrapped around her body, she prepared to get dressed.

She bent forward to step into her pajama pants, careful not to let the towel slip.

But as she shifted her weight, she wobbled, and the towel slipped from her body, pooling at her feet.

A sharp yelp escaped her as she realized she was completely naked.

Vincenzo turned at the sound, his gaze landing on her, and she froze, stunned.

A sudden chill swept over her, making her shiver.

Instinctively, she crossed one arm over her breasts and pressed the other hand between her legs, trying to cover herself.

He stared, his eyes traveled slowly down her body, from her flushed face, over the curves she was desperately trying to hide, and back up again. 

The silence in the room pressed down on her, heavy and unbearable. 

Anna’s cheeks burned, and she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Every inch of her skin prickled with humiliation.

Even though Vincenzo had seen her naked before, she still didn’t feel comfortable being exposed in front of him.

After a long, tense moment, Vincenzo stood up. “I will wait for you downstairs,” he said.

Without another glance, he walked out of the room.

The minute the door shut behind him, Anna let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

She quickly pulled on her pajama bottoms, fumbling with the drawstring, and then slipped into her pajama shirt.

Taking a few more seconds to steady herself, she pressed her cool hands against her flushed cheeks before finally leaving the room.

Downstairs, Anna spotted a maid dusting a vase. “Excuse me,” she whispered. “Where is the dining room, please?”

The maid smiled and pointed down a hall. “That way, signora.”

“Thank you,” Anna said softly.

As she moved down the hall, she couldn’t help but stare. Expensive paintings and intricate designs adorned the walls, making the space feel like it had come straight out of a masterpiece.

She stepped into the grand dining room, where a long table stretched before her, overflowing with food: platters of pasta swimming in rich red sauce, bowls of crisp salad, baskets of bread, roasted meats, golden-fried vegetables, and several Italian dishes whose names she didn’t know.

It was a feast that could easily feed a small army.

The old man sat at the head of the table, while Isabella, Rosalia, and Martina took their places to his left.

Vincenzo occupied the seat to his right, with an empty chair beside him.

“Anna, dear!” the old man called, spotting her by the door. “We’ve been waiting for you. Come, join us.” He gestured to the empty chair next to Vincenzo.

Anna’s stomach tightened. 

She didn’t want to sit beside Vincenzo.

After what had happened upstairs, simply being near him felt awkward.

But no one else besides Vincenzo and her knew that, so she had to keep up the act.

She forced a small smile. “Okay, sir.”

“Call me Papa, dear,” the old man said warmly. “You are just like my daughter.”

Anna hesitated for a moment before replying, “Okay… Papa.”

The old man’s smile widened. “Better.”

Anna moved toward the chair beside Vincenzo. He stood and pulled it out for her, giving a polite nod.

She lowered herself into it, murmuring, “Thank you.” 

He slid the chair back in before taking his own seat.

He turned to her, that same flawless, empty smile on his face. “You look very well, cara.”

Anna returned a tight, forced smile of her own, hiding the tension coiling in her chest.

“Let us pray before we eat,” the old man said.

He closed his eyes and prayed, “Signore, benedici questo cibo e chi lo ha preparato. Dona salute e gioia alla nostra famiglia e proteggi chi amiamo. Amen.” (Lord, bless this food and those who prepared it. Grant health and joy to our family and protect those we love. Amen.)

When he finished, everyone at the table murmured, “Amen.” 

Anna didn’t understand the prayer, but she bowed her head and mouthed the ‘amen’ along with them.

As soon as the prayer ended, the maids who had been standing along the walls stepped forward, each taking a place behind people at the table, ready to serve.

Anna watched as everyone else indicated what they wanted. 

When it was her turn, she pointed awkwardly at a few dishes: some pasta, some vegetables, roasted meat, and a couple of Italian dishes.

The maid carefully spooned the portions onto her plate.

Anna lifted her fork, the rich aromas making her stomach growl. 

She was just about to take her first bite when Isabella leaned forward.

“So, Anna,” Isabella said, her voice rising above the soft clatter of cutlery, “I’ve been wondering—how did you and my brother meet?”