As we drive through the city, I catch Harry glancing at me through the rear-view mirror. His smile is soft, reassuring. I shift uncomfortably, glancing at Nadine beside me. She's smiling too, her long, impossibly perfect legs crossed effortlessly.

Can I just die now?

She gestures toward my dress, giving me a thumbs-up.

Why does she have to be nice? God, just say something mean, please. Make it easier for me to hate you.

Liam turns in his seat, flashing a grin.

What the fuck is this? A bloody Colgate ad?

"So, Ella," Liam starts, his voice light and easy, "how do you like Italy so far? Harry showing you around?"

Before I can answer, Nadine chimes in, leaning in slightly. "We should take you out tomorrow night, too!"

"Oh, that's alright," I reply quickly, my voice betraying my nerves. "I wouldn't want to impose. I did kind of show up unannounced."

Harry hasn't spoken much the entire ride, which worries me. He's distant, distracted.

"Alright, beautiful girl from Harry's past," Liam smirks as Harry pulls into a parking space. "Ready to dance?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I mutter.

Before I can react, Liam hooks his arm through mine, and Nadine links her arm on the other side, leading me toward the entrance.

I need Harry to save me from this overwhelming situation. But he doesn't.

Instead, he stays a step behind, watching—amused.

The line outside is long, but it doesn't matter. Nadine simply waves at the bulky security guy standing by the velvet rope.

"Buonasera, Franco," she purrs.

The man—easily twice her size—blushes like a schoolgirl and immediately lets us through.

Inside, the thick bass of the music pounds against my chest, the heavy glass doors sealing us into the electric energy of the club.

Liam releases me first, spinning onto the dance floor without hesitation. Nadine sways her hips effortlessly, already moving to the beat.

The lights reflect off polished surfaces, bouncing shades of purple, pink, and gold throughout the space. The bar glows, its shelves lined with expensive liquor, while chandeliers hang low, dripping elegance over the chaos.

Before I can even breathe, Liam pulls me to the centre of the floor, spinning me playfully. Nadine cheers, moving fluidly beside us.

"Go, Ella!"

I laugh, the beat commanding my movements. It's exhilarating, but a familiar burning sensation prickles against my skin.

I know someone's watching me.

I turn my head slightly, searching—

And there he is.

Harry stands at the bar, a drink in his hand, eyes locked onto me.

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

Something is off.

I lean toward Nadine, gesturing that I need a drink. She nods, still swaying, while Liam downs a shot handed to him by a passing waitress.

As I weave through the crowd toward Harry, I feel the bartender's gaze following me. I ignore him, stopping just in front of Harry.

"What's wrong?" I ask, raising my voice over the music.

His eyes flick over me before taking a sip of his drink. "Nothing."

I don't believe him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep," he says, still avoiding my eyes. He nods toward the bar. "Want a drink?"

I nod. He doesn't even ask what I want before turning to the bartender, who immediately jumps to pour.

The guy hands me a clear glass of Absolut.

I reach for my clutch, but before I can pull out any cash, Harry catches my wrist.

"Please don't insult me like that," he murmurs, his voice low and firm.

A shiver runs through me at the electricity in his touch.

I offer him a small, grateful smile, my stomach tightening when his thumb brushes against my arm before letting me go.

Instinctively, I glance toward Nadine, but she's still dancing with Liam, completely carefree. She motions for us to join them, but Harry and I lift our glasses in silent refusal.

He downs another sip, his attention drifting.

"She's incredible," I say, meaning it.

He nods, but his gaze is sharp, focused—on me.

"You miss this?" I ask, gesturing toward the bar, the music, the scene. "The bartending, the clubs?"

He exhales, tipping his glass slightly before nodding. "I do."

"You should go dance," I encourage. "Show the Italians what you're made of."

His gaze darkens.

"Only if you come with me," he says.

The way he's looking at me is making it very, very hard to breathe.

"Okay," I whisper.

Without hesitation, he sets both our glasses down and takes my hand, intertwining our fingers as he leads me to the dance floor.

Oh God.

My body reacts before my brain can. My heart is racing—pounding against my ribcage like it's trying to escape.

"Wait," I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

"I've waited long enough," he mutters.

Before I can process what's happening, his hands are on my face, and his lips are on mine.

Holy shit.

I freeze, shocked, but the warmth of his mouth, the feel of his lips claiming me, melts my hesitation away.

But then—Nadine.

I pull back slightly, panicked, searching for her in the crowd.

She's staring right at us.

Shit, shit, shit—

But she's not upset.

She's grinning.

And then Liam slides his arms around her waist, kissing her ear, whispering something before—

Before she turns her head and kisses him.

My brain short-circuits.

Oh my God.

"You thought..." Harry breathes, realization dawning. "Ella, no. Baby, no. You thought—"

I cut him off, pressing my lips back onto his, hands diving into his hair, fingers pulling him closer.

The dam has broken.

Teeth clash. Tongues dance. Our bodies press together as the music vibrates through us, through everything.

He digs into his pocket, fumbling with his keys. I barely register the movement until he tosses them to Liam, who catches them effortlessly.

"Liam!" Harry shouts over the music.

Liam looks up, nodding, smirking.

Harry grabs my hand. "Let's go."

His voice leaves no room for argument.

In minutes, we're outside, his arm raised, hailing a taxi.

"Savoy, per favore," he tells the driver the second we climb in.

"Si, signore."

The door barely clicks shut before his mouth is on mine again.

I moan against him, the heat unbearable, my body aching for his.

"Harry," I manage between kisses, my fingers gripping his shirt.

"What?" His lips trail from my mouth to my neck.

I shudder. "Harry, what are we doing?"

He stills, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes.

"What we should be doing," he whispers. "Tell me you don't want this as much as I do, and I'll take you back to your hotel and leave."

His fingers ghost over my thigh.

"But if you feel the same—don't ever question this again. Okay?"

My breath hitches.

"I do," I admit, the words slipping past my lips without hesitation.

His grin is sinful.

"I missed you, baby," he rasps. "So fucking much."

My nails dig into his back as I press myself against him.

The car stops.

The driver clears his throat.

We scramble out, Harry shoving cash into the man's hands, dragging me toward the hotel entrance.

"Get your card out, baby." His breath is ragged.

I chuckle but obey.

The moment the elevator doors slide shut, his hands are on me again, his voice whispering against my skin—

"To the moon and back, baby. I'm all yours."