Serena de Piero sat in an elegant anteroom, looking at the name of the company whose president she was about to meet written in large black letters on the wall.

Roseca Industries and Philanthropic Foundation.

Again, she felt a chill of horror. Only when she was already on the plane to Rio de Janeiro, reading the information about the event her boss had asked her to prepare, did she realize that the company she worked for was part of a larger organization. An organization run by Luca Fonseca. The name, Roseca, was apparently a combination of her father's and mother's surnames. And Serena didn't hold such an important position to know that. Until that moment.

But here she was, about to walk into the president's office to see the one man on the planet who had every reason to hate her. Why hadn't he fired her months earlier, as soon as he learned she was working for him? Serena harbored an insidious suspicion: maybe he'd orchestrated it on purpose to give her a false sense of security before finally ruining her.

It would be an intolerable cruelty, and yet, the man had the right to hate her. She owed him so much, and there was a good chance her career in philanthropy was about to end before it had even begun. And that made her feel a mixture of panic and determination. It had been a long time. Even if this was an elaborate plan by Luca Fonseca to get revenge as soon as he found out she was working for him, she could try to convince him how sorry she was for what had happened all those years ago, couldn't she?

But before he could think any further, the door to his right opened and an elegant brunette in a gray suit jacket emerged from the office.

—Senhor Fonseca may receive you now, Miss De Piero.

Serena clutched her purse tightly. She wished she could scream, "But I don't want to see him!" But she couldn't, and she couldn't run away.
Among other reasons, because her luggage was still in the trunk of the car that had picked her up at the airport.

As she stood up from the chair, a memory assaulted her with such force that she almost stumbled: Luca Fonseca, his shirt stained with blood, a black eye, and a split lip. He was in a cell, leaning against the wall, looking sullen and dangerous. But when she looked up and saw him on the other side, the hatred in his dark blue eyes paralyzed her.

He had pushed away from the wall to grab onto the cell bars, as if imagining it was his neck, to say to her:

—Damn you, Serena de Piero. I wish I'd never set my eyes on you.

you.

—Miss De Piero? Mr. Fonseca is waiting.

The secretary's voice interrupted her thoughts and she was forced to move her feet to enter the sumptuous office.

Her heart was beating like it was about to burst out of her chest when she heard the door close behind her. For the first few seconds, she didn't see anyone because the wall in front of her was a huge glass wall, framing an extraordinary view of the city, with the dark blue of the Atlantic Ocean in the distance and Rio de Janeiro's two icons: Sugarloaf Mountain and Christ the Redeemer on Corcovado. Between them, countless skyscrapers stretching all the way to the coast. To say the view was fabulous was an understatement.

But suddenly, the view was eclipsed by the man who stood in front of the glass. Luca Fonseca. For a second, past and present blended, and Serena returned to that nightclub, to the night she met him.

He was so tall, so handsome, with a formidable presence. People surrounded him, the men suspicious, envious. The women eager, lustful.