Chapter 3 — Unwelcome Partnerships

Aidan

The early morning sun threaded through the sprawling branches of the olive trees, dappling the cobblestone path with shifting patterns of light and shadow. Aidan walked slowly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans, his mind tangled with restless thoughts. The air was cool, carrying the faint tang of rosemary from the villa gardens and mingling with the earthy scent of dew on stone. It was the kind of serenity that should have brought some measure of peace, but the knot in his chest refused to loosen.

Sleep had been elusive. The memory of the previous night looped in his mind—Teagan’s sharp words, the biting disdain in her green eyes, and the chill of her indifference, which had struck harder than he cared to admit. He had expected tension, certainly, but the sheer weight of her animosity still left him reeling.

“Still sticking to last names, I see.” He winced as the memory surfaced, his own strained attempt at humor feeling like a pebble tossed into a storm. Idiot. Every word he’d said replayed with an almost painful clarity, and every one felt clumsier than the last.

A soft rustling ahead pulled him from his thoughts. Rounding the corner into the villa’s main courtyard, he spotted Giulia standing in the center. She was the picture of calm authority, her tailored beige dress immaculate even at this early hour. The leather-bound notebook she held against her chest gleamed faintly, its gilded edges catching the sunlight as her pen glided across the pages with precise efficiency.

“Aidan,” she greeted, not looking up from her notes. Her Italian-accented English carried an understated warmth, though her tone remained brisk.

“Morning, Giulia,” he replied, forcing a faint smile. “You’re up early.”

“I must be.” Her gaze flicked to him briefly before returning to her notes. “A wedding is no place for improvisation. And you? Out for an early stroll? Or unable to sleep?”

The knowing look she darted at him made him chuckle softly, though the sound lacked its usual ease. “A little of both.”

Giulia closed her notebook with a soft snap and arched a brow. “Then perhaps it is fortunate you are here. You will need all your patience for today.”

He frowned. “That sounds ominous.”

Before she could reply, the sound of firm, purposeful footsteps echoed against the stone. Aidan turned, and there she was—Teagan. Her auburn ponytail swung as she strode into the courtyard, dressed in a fitted black T-shirt and jeans, her leather boots clicking against the cobblestones. She moved with the kind of confidence that dared anyone to get in her way. Aidan’s breath caught, a familiar mix of admiration and apprehension flooding his chest. Her piercing green eyes landed on him, narrowing instantly with suspicion.

Oh, fantastic.

“Good,” Giulia said crisply, clasping her hands together as though rallying troops. “You are both here. That simplifies things.”

“Both?” Teagan echoed, her tone laced with irritation as she glanced warily between Aidan and Giulia.

“Yes.” Giulia’s response was brisk, her expression betraying none of the amusement Aidan suspected simmered beneath the surface. “Due to the tight schedule, I require your assistance with several key preparations today. Together.”

Teagan’s lips parted, her expression incredulous. She hesitated, clearly debating between arguing or simply walking away. Aidan, for his part, felt his stomach sink.

“Together?” Teagan’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

“Giulia, wait,” Aidan interjected, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of surrender. “Are you sure about this? I don’t think—”

Giulia lifted a finger, silencing him with effortless authority. “There is no time for ‘I don’t think.’ Lydia and Anthony trust me to ensure perfection, and I will not fail them. You two are capable adults. You will work it out.”

Teagan scoffed almost silently, but the derision in her expression was unmistakable. “This isn’t a good idea,” she muttered, venom dripping from her words.

“For once, I agree,” Aidan said quickly, hoping to defuse the tension.

Giulia, entirely unimpressed by their united resistance, remained unshakeable. “You will assist with the seating arrangements and the flower placements in the courtyard. These are simple tasks that require attention to detail and, yes, collaboration.”

Teagan crossed her arms, her posture daring Giulia to reconsider. “I don’t collaborate.”

“Then consider this a lesson,” Giulia replied smoothly, her lips twitching in the faintest suggestion of amusement. “Personal growth is invaluable.”

Aidan fought back a laugh at Giulia’s unyielding calm. Teagan, meanwhile, looked as though she might combust on the spot. After a long, tense moment, she let out a sharp exhale.

“Fine,” she bit out, her voice simmering with restrained fury. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Bene.” Giulia smiled faintly, clearly satisfied. “The materials are in the garden shed. You may begin.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and strode back into the villa, her notebook tucked neatly under her arm like a general retreating from a battlefield.

“Well,” Aidan said, attempting a thin veneer of humor. “This should be… enlightening.”

Teagan’s glare could have frozen the sun. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

The finality in her tone silenced him. She turned sharply and began marching toward the garden shed, her rigid strides betraying her frustration. Aidan followed at a careful distance, the silence between them stretching taut with unspoken tension.

The shed was small but meticulously organized, with shelves lined with boxes labeled in Giulia’s elegant handwriting. Teagan yanked open a box of pre-cut table cards, her movements precise and controlled, though the sharpness of her exhales betrayed her irritation. Aidan retrieved the list of seating arrangements left by Giulia, scanning the names with a practiced eye.

“Lydia’s guest list could rival a royal wedding,” he commented lightly, hoping to ease the tension. “I didn’t even know this many people could fit into one family.”

Teagan didn’t look up. “Lydia’s always been generous. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

The jab landed squarely, but Aidan refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he carefully set the list on the workbench between them, careful not to crowd her space.

“Look,” he said quietly, softening his tone. “I get it. You’d rather be anywhere but here with me. But Lydia asked for your help, and I promised Anthony I’d step up. Can we call a truce? Just for today?”

Her hands stilled on the table cards for the briefest of moments. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, but it vanished as quickly as it had come. She straightened, her expression hardening once more.

“A truce implies trust,” she said coldly. “And I don’t trust you, Aidan. Not now, not ever.”

The words hit harder than he’d expected, but he swallowed the ache in his chest and nodded. “Fair enough. But we still have a job to do.”

They worked in strained silence, the minutes crawling as they sorted cards and arranged flowers in copper vases. Aidan couldn’t help but notice the precision with which Teagan moved—her fingers deftly tying ribbons, her gaze sharp as she adjusted stems. Her determination was maddening and captivating all at once.

At one point, when she reached for the scissors, her bracelet caught the light. The slim leather band and discreet compass drew his attention. He watched as she used its hidden blade to trim excess ribbon, her motions quick and efficient. It struck him as such a Teagan thing—a tool that was equal parts practical and defensive.

“Practical tool,” he commented, unable to help himself. “Does it come with a manual?”

She didn’t respond, though the corner of her mouth twitched—so faintly that he couldn’t tell if it was amusement or irritation.

When they’d finally finished, Teagan stepped back and brushed a strand of hair from her face. Her green eyes swept over the courtyard, appraising their work with her usual intensity.

“Done,” she said curtly. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her strides as purposeful as they’d been earlier.

Aidan watched her retreating figure, the knot in his chest tightening further. He’d hoped today might be the first step toward proving himself. But as her figure disappeared into the villa, he realized just how far he still had to climb to reach her walls—let alone break through them.