The Roman Holiday

Part 1: The Flight

Chapter 1: The Positive Test

Five years ago, New York City was my kingdom. I was twenty-four, an art restorer at the Met, and I was in love with the Prince of Manhattan.

Julian Thorne.

Julian was thirty, a billionaire real estate mogul who owned half the skyline. He was intense, possessive, and dangerously charming. We had been together for a year. It was a whirlwind of galas, private jets, and nights where the world seemed to stop at the door of his penthouse.

But there was a shadow. His mother, Victoria Thorne, hated me. To her, I was a gold digger. A distraction. She wanted him to marry a senator’s daughter, to secure a political alliance.

And then, I found out.

I sat on the cold tile floor of my bathroom in Brooklyn, staring at the two pink lines.

Pregnant.

Panic clawed at my throat. Not because I didn’t want the baby—I loved Julian. But because of what Victoria had told me the day before.

“He doesn’t want children, Maya,” she had sneered over tea. “He wants a legacy. A business. Children are messy. If you trap him, he will resent you. He will hate the child. And I will make sure you never see a dime.”

I was young. I was scared. And I believed her.

I thought about Julian’s coldness when he worked. I thought about the pressure he was under. I convinced myself that I would ruin him.

So, I ran.

I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t say goodbye. I packed a bag. I took my savings—meager as they were. And I bought a one-way ticket to the only place I knew where art could hide a broken heart.

Florence, Italy.

Chapter 2: The Life in Tuscany

Five years is a long time. Or a short time. It depends on how you measure it.

I measured it in the height of my daughter, Bella.

Bella was four. She had my dark curls, but she had Julian’s eyes. Piercing, intelligent blue eyes that seemed to see right through me.

We lived in a small apartment above a bakery in Florence. I worked restoring frescoes in old chapels. It was quiet work. Humble work.

We were happy. Or at least, we were safe.

I told Bella her father was a “King who lived far away.” It was easier than explaining that he was a billionaire who probably thought I was dead.

But safety is an illusion.

Two days ago, I received a call. My father, back in New Jersey, had suffered a stroke. He was in the ICU.

I had to go back.

I couldn’t hide in the Renaissance anymore. My real life was calling.

“Mama, are we going to America?” Bella asked, clutching her stuffed rabbit as I packed our suitcases.

“Yes, baby,” I said, my hands shaking. “We’re going to see Grandpa.”

“Will we see the King?” she asked innocently.

My heart stopped. “No, Bella. Just Grandpa.”

I booked the flight. Alitalia to JFK. I used my maiden name on the passport. I wore oversized sunglasses. I told myself it would be quick. I would see my dad, help my mom, and fly back before anyone knew I was there.

I told myself Julian wouldn’t care. He had probably moved on years ago. He was probably married to the senator’s daughter.

I was a fool.

Chapter 3: The Descent

The flight was long. Bella slept with her head in my lap. I stared out the window at the Atlantic Ocean, feeling the dread coil in my stomach like a snake.

New York. The city of steel and glass. The city of Julian.

As the plane descended, the skyline came into view. I saw the Thorne Tower piercing the clouds. It looked like a needle, sharp and dangerous.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to John F. Kennedy International Airport,” the pilot announced.

I put on my sunglasses. I pulled my trench coat tight.

“Wake up, Bella,” I whispered. “We’re here.”

We deplaned. I held Bella’s hand tightly. We walked through customs. My heart hammered against my ribs with every step.

Just get to the taxi, I told myself. Just get to New Jersey.

We walked into the arrivals hall.

It was strangely quiet.

Usually, JFK is a chaotic mess of families, drivers holding signs, and tourists. But the immediate area around the international gate was… empty.

There were no crowds. No lines of people waiting.

Instead, there were men in suits.

Six of them. Standing in a semi-circle, blocking the exit. They wore earpieces. They looked like statues carved from granite.

I stopped. I pulled Bella behind me.

“Mama?” Bella whispered. “Who are they?”

“Shh,” I said.

The men parted.

And there he was.

He was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed. He wore a charcoal suit that fit him perfectly. He looked older. There were silver threads in his dark hair, and lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there five years ago.

But the intensity was the same. The power. The sheer, overwhelming force of his presence.

Julian.

He wasn’t looking at his phone. He wasn’t looking at the security guards.

He was looking at me.

Chapter 4: The Confrontation

I froze. My feet felt like they were nailed to the floor.

How?

How did he know? I hadn’t used a credit card linked to him. I hadn’t called anyone but my mother.

Julian pushed off the pillar. He walked toward me. His stride was long, confident. The predator closing in on the prey.

I wanted to run. But there was nowhere to go. The security guards blocked the path behind me.

He stopped three feet away.

He looked at me. He took off his sunglasses. His blue eyes burned with a cold, terrifying fire.

“Maya,” he said. His voice was deep, familiar, and it sent a shiver down my spine that was equal parts fear and desire.

“Julian,” I whispered.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t yell.

He looked down. He looked at the little girl hiding behind my coat.

Bella peeked out. She looked at the tall man. She saw his eyes. The same eyes she saw in the mirror every day.

Julian’s expression faltered. The anger cracked, revealing a flash of shock, then wonder, then pain.

“And who is this?” he asked, his voice rough.

“This is Bella,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Bella,” Julian repeated. “Beautiful.”

He looked back at me.

“Five years, Maya,” he said. “Five years, two months, and fourteen days.”

“I… I had to,” I stammered. “Your mother… she said…”

“I don’t care what my mother said,” Julian cut me off. “I care that you left. I care that you stole five years of my life.”

He took a step closer. He invaded my personal space. I could smell him—sandalwood and rain.

“Did you think you could hide?” he asked softly. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I was in Italy,” I said.

“I know,” Julian said. “I knew where you were the moment you rented that apartment above the bakery. I knew when you got the job at the museum. I knew when you bought Bella her first pair of shoes.”

My blood ran cold. “You… you knew?”

“I’m a billionaire, Maya,” he said dryly. “I have resources. I found you in a week.”

“Then why…” I choked out. “Why didn’t you come?”

“Because you ran,” he said. “You chose to leave. I wanted to see if you would come back. I wanted to see if you loved me enough to come home.”

He reached out. He touched my cheek. His hand was warm.

“But you didn’t. You stayed away. Until today.”

“My father is sick,” I said.

“I know,” Julian said. “I sent the best doctors to his hospital this morning. He’s stable.”

I stared at him. He had orchestrated everything. He had watched me for five years, like a god watching a mortal, waiting for the moment to strike.

“You’re crazy,” I whispered.

“I’m devoted,” he corrected.

He looked at Bella again. He knelt down. He was eye-level with her.

“Hello, Bella,” he said gently.

“Are you the King?” Bella asked.

Julian looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

“Something like that,” Julian said to her. “I’m your dad.”

Bella’s eyes went wide. She looked at me. I nodded, tears streaming down my face.

Julian stood up. He offered me his hand.

“Have you run enough?” he asked.

I looked at his hand. I looked at the security guards. I looked at the exit that led to a city I couldn’t afford, with a sick father and no job.

And then I looked at the man I had never stopped loving.

“It’s time to go home, Maya,” he said.

“I don’t have a home,” I said.

“You do,” Julian said. “You have me.”

I took his hand.

Chapter 5: The Glass Cage

He didn’t take us to a taxi. He walked us out to the tarmac where a helicopter was waiting.

“We’re skipping the traffic,” Julian said.

We flew over the city. Bella was glued to the window, amazed. I sat across from Julian, my heart racing.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To the penthouse,” he said. “Your room is exactly as you left it.”

“You kept it?”

“I didn’t touch a thing. I just… added a room. Next door.”

He looked at Bella.

We landed on the roof of the Thorne Tower. We took the private elevator down.

The doors opened into the penthouse. It was exactly as I remembered. The floor-to-ceiling windows, the modern art, the cold perfection.

But there was a change.

In the hallway, there was a door that hadn’t been there before.

Julian walked over and opened it.

It was a nursery. Or rather, a little girl’s room. It was pink and gold. There were toys. A bed with a canopy. A bookshelf filled with Italian fairy tales.

Bella gasped. “Is this for me?”

“Yes,” Julian said. “I built it three years ago. Just in case.”

I looked at him. “You built a room for a child you never met?”

“I knew she existed,” Julian said. “I saw the photos my investigators sent. I saw her grow up in pictures, Maya. Do you know what that feels like? To watch your daughter grow up in 2D?”

His voice broke. The anger was back.

“I missed her first steps,” he said, turning to me. “I missed her first word. Because you were scared of my mother.”

“She threatened me!” I cried. “She said you didn’t want kids!”

“And you believed her?” Julian shouted. “Over me?”

“I was twenty-four! I was alone!”

“You weren’t alone!” he roared. “You were with me! I would have burned the world down for you, Maya. And you left me in the ashes.”

He paced the room.

“Do you know what I did when I found out?” he asked. “I almost flew to Florence that night. I wanted to drag you back. But I stopped myself. I thought, ‘If I force her, she will hate me. She has to choose me.'”

He laughed bitterly.

“But you never chose me. You chose fear.”

“I’m here now,” I whispered.

“Because you had no choice,” he said. “Because your father is sick.”

He walked over to the bar and poured a drink.

“Well,” he said. “You’re here now. And you’re staying.”

“I can’t just stay,” I said. “I have a life in Italy. I have a job.”

“You had a job,” Julian corrected. “I bought the building your apartment is in. I terminated the lease this morning. And the museum? I’m their biggest donor. You’re on indefinite sabbatical.”

“You… you erased my life?”

“I moved it,” he said. “Your things are being shipped over. They’ll be here on Friday.”

I stared at him. He was terrifying. He was efficient. He was a monster.

And he was the father of my child.

“You can’t keep me here,” I said.

“I’m not keeping you,” Julian said. “The door is unlocked. You can leave anytime you want.”

He pointed to the elevator.

“But Bella stays. She is a Thorne. She belongs here. If you walk out that door, Maya, I will file for custody. I have the best lawyers in the world. I will prove you kidnapped my child across international lines. You will never see her again.”

It was an ultimatum. A golden cage.

“So,” Julian took a sip of his whiskey. “What will it be? Do you want to be my wife? Or do you want to be a visitor?”

I looked at Bella. She was playing with a dollhouse in her new room. She looked happy.

I looked at Julian.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

“Good,” Julian smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile. “That’s a start. Passion is better than indifference.”

He walked over to me. He touched my hair.

“Welcome home, Maya.”

End of Part 1