Chapter 34 34

Chapter 34 34
Aurora’s POV
It’s just one in the afternoon and I’m already on my second bottle of beer. The sun kisses my skin gently while the breeze brushes through my hair. I tilt my head back against the lounge chair and take another sip, cold, crisp, just what I need.
Hazel and Veronica splash in the pool not far from where I’m sitting. Their laughter rings through the air like wind chimes, carefree and young. I watch them for a moment, jealous of their ability to just let go.
Ricco handed me this beer earlier with a smirk and a casual, “Don’t think too hard, just drink.” Maybe he’s right. But my eyes keep drifting… across the deck… to him.
Damiano.
He’s sitting with the boys, Giovanni, Xander, Angelo, even Lorenzo… wait.
I squint slightly.
Lorenzo isn’t there.
I sit up straighter. I scan the deck, my gaze climbs the stairs toward the upper level just in time to catch movement. There.
Coming down the steps slowly, almost casually. Lorenzo… and Sofia.
My brows lift just slightly, not enough to draw attention. But I see it.
Her face is flushed, a soft pink blooming across her cheeks. Her eyes are wide, and she looks down once or twice as they walk, brushing invisible dust from her bikini strap. Nervous. Shy. Almost glowing.
Lorenzo, on the other hand, is giggling.
Giggling.
My twin brother, the same one who could gut a man with a single look, is laughing like someone just told him a sweet joke. They exchange a word. Then another. And another. Their heads lean in a little closer than necessary. My eyes narrow slightly, lips curling into the faintest smirk.
Well, well.
I take another long sip of my beer, watching them from behind my sunglasses. Whatever just happened up there… it’s only the beginning. And for the first time in a while, something about this day feels fresh, alive.
I won’t tease them yet.
But I will be watching.
Aurora’s POV
The sky has started to paint itself in shades of gold and blush. Music drifts through the air, soft and melodic, as someone brings out the cake. No, not one, but two. One for me. One for Lorenzo. Flamingo toppers. Pink and white frosting.
Of course.
Everyone gathers, cheering loudly as Lorenzo slings his arm around my shoulder and we both laugh under the string lights. The candles flicker, the breeze teasing the flames. We close our eyes, make a wish, and blow them out together.
The applause breaks out, light and happy, and just as I cut the first piece, someone appears beside me.
Damiano.
He holds out his hand, takes the small plate gently, and picks up the slice of cake. “Happy birthday, Birdie,” he says, his voice warm, low. The kind of tone that slips right beneath my skin. He feeds me the piece with careful fingers, eyes locked on mine. The taste of frosting lingers, but his gaze… that’s what makes me dizzy.
“Thanks,” I whisper, barely audible over the music.
He gives me a small smile, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip to clean the corner. He turns before anyone can question the moment, slipping away like a shadow, discreet, like we agreed.
Later, I step away from the group and lean against the railing, the sea stretching endless in front of me. The wind plays with my hair. Peaceful. Just for a moment.
Lorenzo joins me quietly, his arm brushing mine.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods. “I didn’t want to keep something from you.”
I raise a brow.
“Earlier… with Sofia. It was an accident. She ended up in my room by mistake, she didn’t know. Things got a little awkward.”
I glance sideways at him, giving him that don’t-lie-to-me look.
He sighs. “Okay, a little more than awkward. She looked so… innocent. I just, I held her. Nothing more. But I had to tell you. I know she’s your best friend.”
I exhale slowly. “Don’t break her heart, Lorenzo. Sofia’s sensitive. Be nice to her.”
“I will,” he says, then smirks. “But… she might be my type.”
I shake my head with a smile, but before I can reply, he cuts in again.
“I didn’t come just to tell you that,” he adds, straightening up. “Actually, Damiano… he’s made a dinner setup for just the two of you. On the top deck. The suite’s terrace. I helped him with it.”
My heart skips.
“He just wants to spend an hour with you. I’ll tell everyone you have a headache. As for him, I’ll distract them. Don’t worry. I know you’re keeping things private.”
I look at him, touched. “Thank you… for being such an understanding brother.”
He pulls me into a hug, his arms warm and tight. “Happy birthday to us, sisi.”
From afar, I spot Damiano. He’s leaning against the frame of the deck’s upper stairs, half hidden in shadows. His eyes are on me—and when our gazes meet, he beams. That soft, knowing smile that always gets me.
And just like that, my world feels quiet again… even with all the music playing.
The sea is calm, a gentle hush beneath the boat. The wind brushes my bare shoulders and the candlelight flickers in his eyes. We’re dancing, slowly, like the world isn’t falling apart outside of this moment.
Damiano’s arms wrap tighter around me. His cologne is warm, his breath brushes the shell of my ear as he speaks. “I was thinking about that night,” he murmurs, “when I surprised you at midnight. You looked so beautiful in that oversized pink shirt, drinking wine like a dream.”
I smile into his chest. “You mean when we broke all the rules?”
“I mean when we stopped pretending we didn’t need each other,” he says.
We stop swaying. I look up at him.
His hand brushes my hair behind my ear. “I don’t want to waste another second hating you. Or pretending I don’t crave your presence.”
“I’m scared,” I admit quietly.
His thumb glides over my cheek. “I know. Me too. But I’d rather love you in secret than lose you in silence.”
He leans down and kisses me softly, no rush, no hunger, just tenderness. I melt into it. Every fear, every wall I’ve built around myself crumbles in his touch.
After a moment, he pulls back and says, “There’s more.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded note.
“I wrote something. I was going to leave it with your gift this morning but... I chickened out.” He hands it to me.
I unfold it slowly. His handwriting is messy, rushed.
“For my Birdie,If you ever doubt the chaos of our world,just remember—you are the calm in my storm,the softness in my war.If all else falls,I’ll still find you.I always will.”
My lips part but no words come out. I clutch the note to my chest.
Damiano clears his throat and tries to play it cool. “You hate it?”
I shake my head. “I’ll keep it forever.”
He exhales a laugh, the tension in his body finally loosening. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand again. “I want to show you the rest.”
He leads me further into the suite’s private deck. More candles, more petals. There’s a long cushioned lounge chair overlooking the sea. A blanket draped over it. A tray of chocolates and strawberries. A Bluetooth speaker playing the soft hum of jazz and waves.
We sit. He wraps the blanket over us both.
I rest my head against his shoulder as we eat strawberries and talk about nothing—music, memories, the first time we met. 
And then there’s silence. Comfortable, golden silence.
Until Damiano whispers, “I don’t want this night to end.”
I lift my head, our eyes locking under the faint glow of the stars.
“It doesn’t have to,” I whisper back.
His lips brush mine again, slower this time—deeper. His fingers thread into my hair, his other hand pressing gently against my waist. He pulls me into his lap, and I straddle him without hesitation. The blanket falls from my shoulders as his hands explore my back, my sides, every inch of me like he’s memorizing it all over again.
No one’s watching. No one’s here.
Just him and me—two hearts lost in a war, finding peace in each other.
My breath catches as Damiano's hands settle on my hips, steadying me as I straddle him. The heat of his body seeps through the thin fabric of my dress, his pulse thrumming beneath my palms.
“Birdie,” he murmurs against my neck, voice low and reverent, “you undo me.”
I shiver—not from the breeze, but from him. From the way his mouth grazes my skin like a prayer, slow and deliberate. My fingers thread into his hair, tugging gently until his lips find mine again. This kiss is deeper, more certain. There’s no hesitance now, no fear—only need, and the aching truth of everything we’ve left unsaid for too long.
The sea hums in the background. The candlelight paints gold across his jaw. I feel his heartbeat everywhere—under my hands, beneath my chest, between my legs.
His fingers slide under the hem of my dress, tracing the inside of my thigh with agonizing patience. I gasp softly, grounding myself by gripping his shoulders. He looks up at me then, his eyes searching mine.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, his voice roughened by restraint. “And I will.”
I shake my head, breathless. “Don’t. Don’t stop.”
His lips part slightly, and something breaks open between us. His hands travel up my back, peeling the straps of my dress down my arms like he’s unwrapping something sacred. Every movement is slow, worshipful.
“You're so beautiful,” he says, almost like he’s in awe. “I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you—for so long it hurts.”
“You have me,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his. “You’ve always had me.”
The world falls away as we come together, skin against skin, wrapped in warmth and moonlight. The rhythm of our bodies matches the pulse of the sea, the rise and fall of waves echoing the tempo we find in each other. His touch is fire and safety all at once. Every kiss, every breath shared between us feels like a vow.
And when it’s over—when the storm inside us finally settles—he holds me like he never wants to let go.
The stars stretch overhead, and I listen to his heartbeat beneath my cheek, steady and strong. He kisses the crown of my head, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe in peace.
We collapse into each other, tangled limbs and tangled hearts, the night still thick with candlelight and salt-kissed air. My head rests against his chest, rising and falling in time with his breath. Neither of us speaks for a while. The silence feels sacred now—earned.
Then, Damiano’s hand finds the delicate chain around my neck. His fingers brush the tiny gold flamingo pendant resting just above my heart.
“I never told you,” he says softly, voice husky and tender, “but I was the one who gave this to you. For your eighteenth birthday.”
I pull back just enough to look at him, heart thudding. “What?”
He smiles, bittersweet and tired. “You didn’t know. You thought it came from your mother, or maybe someone else. I never corrected it. Back then, you were trying to hold onto everything—your name, your bloodline, your purpose. And after you disappeared… I thought you left it all behind.”
I touch the pendant between my fingers, suddenly aware of its weight. “I kept this,” I whisper. “Even when I burned everything else… I couldn’t let this go. I didn’t know why.”
“You didn’t need to,” he says gently. “It was the only thing you didn’t bury. And that made it easier to find you.”
A tear slips down my cheek. He catches it with his thumb.
“I thought I was clever,” I murmur, half-laughing through the ache in my throat. “I changed my name. Moved cities. Built walls around every piece of who I was. But this…” I hold the pendant up, watching it sway gently between us. “This little flamingo ruined all my hiding places.”
Damiano leans in and presses a kiss to it, right above my heart. “No,” he says. “It led me home.”
We fall silent again, but this time it's heavier full of truths neither of us can unhear.