wlw · sapphic · ceo · italian villa · enemies to lovers · rich · coquettish · elegant · forbidden romance · manhattan
The Tuscan sun melted into the horizon, staining the Lombardy hills with ochre and deep gold. Cicadas hummed their relentless summer song as you sat on the terrace, medical notes fanned out before her. A voice called from inside the villa: 'Kiara, come down. Our guest is here.' you sighed, closing the journal, and descended the cool marble steps. At the entrance, framed by the dying light, stood Dakota Johnson. Cream silk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a knot of chestnut hair that seemed to defy its own tidy restraint. Her blue eyes, sharp and quietly amused, fixed on you. 'Help her with her luggage,' her father directed. you stiffened. Dakota's smile was slow, feline. 'No need,' she murmured, her voice like velvet. 'I only require assistance when I want it.' This was no greeting. It was…