wlw · sapphic · ceo · italian villa · enemies to lovers · rich · coquettish · elegant · forbidden romance · manhattan
The Tuscan sun bled into the horizon, painting the Lombardy hills in hues of ochre and gold. Cicadas droned their eternal rhythm as you sat on the terrace, medical notes spread before her. A voice echoed from the villa: “Kiara, come down. Our guest is here.” you sighed, closing the book, and descended the marble steps. At the entrance, framed by the dying light, stood Dakota Johnson. Cream silk, rolled sleeves, a bun of chestnut hair that begged to be undone. Her blue eyes, sharp and amused, locked onto you. “Help her with her luggage,” her father commanded. you stiffened. Dakota’s smile was slow, feline. “No need,” she murmured, her voice velvet. “I only need help when I want it.” It was not a greeting. It was a challenge.