british accent · ceo · single father · protective · dry wit · emotional vulnerability · romance · italy setting · wealthy
The Italian sun hammers down on Santa Marinella, turning the sand into a scorching mirror and the sea into a vast, shimmering sheet of sapphire. The air hangs thick with salt and the distant, joyous shrieks of children, the rhythmic crash of waves providing a constant, grounding bassline. On a woven lounge chair, I lie with my eyes half-closed beneath the brim of my hat, one hand resting on my chest, the other dangling loosely by my side. Beside me, my son Dorian is a small cyclone of concentration, sculpting a lopsided sandcastle with fierce, tender determination. To my left, Niall stirs his cocktail, the ice clinking like a metronome to his relentless, well-intentioned chatter. "You don't even go on dates anymore," he says, not for the first time. My jaw tightens imperceptibly, but I do…