Addio to the stand-in past 15

Chapter 15 

Chapter 15 

Life at the Principe Pallavicini estate unfolded with an effortlessness that caught Cassie by surprise. 

She’d quickly established herself as a respected sommelier, forming genuine connections with several master vintners who seemed to value her American perspective on European wines. Beyond her professional role, she’d discovered a hidden talent for Italian cuisine, learning to craft delicate pasta dishes and regional specialties under 

the chef’s patient guidance. 

On her days off, she and Martina explored Rome’s hidden corners–tiny vintage shops tucked into ancient alleys, neighborhood cafés where elderly men played endless card games, and markets bursting with produce Cassie had never encountered before. Through Martina’s connections, Cassie’s salary had nearly doubled from her initial offer, and her halting Italian had evolved into conversational fluency that drew compliments from locals. 

Giovanna, her ebullient landlady, had appointed herself Cassie’s cultural ambassador, consistently delivering homemade focaccia and inviting her to family gatherings where Cassie found herself surrounded by three generations of boisterous Italians who treated her like a long–lost relative. In return, Cassie hosted dinner parties featuring her increasingly confident fusion of American comfort food with Italian techniques. 

The transformation wasn’t just external. Each morning, Cassie caught glimpses of herself in mirrors and was startled by the woman staring back–cheeks flushed with color, eyes bright and present, shoulders relaxed instead of tensed for criticism. She laughed more freely, spoke without mentally editing each sentence, and found herself genuinely at ease in her own skin. 

“You’re blooming like one of my garden roses,” Giovanna remarked one evening as they shared wine on the terrace. “When you arrived, you were a tightly closed bud. Now look at you–fully open to the sun.” 

With a jolt, Cassie realized she’d been in Italy for nearly a month. Time had never moved this quickly or pleasantly before. Each day brought genuine lightness instead of the careful navigation of emotional minefields she’d grown 

accustomed to. 

In her life with Callum, even the smallest misstep would earn his particular brand of condescending correction. Here, mistakes were met with “Non preoccuparti!” and a dismissive wave that instantly dissolved any tension. She was allowed to be imperfect, to learn, to grow without judgment. 

Recently, Martina had been practically vibrating with excitement about her brother’s impending visit, preparing elaborate welcome dinners days in advance. Her enthusiasm piqued Cassie’s curiosity about this mysterious sibling who could generate such anticipation. 

Their eventual meeting happened entirely by accident. Cassie was in the estate’s cellar conducting a blind tasting, methodically documenting the subtle flavor profiles of different vintages. Midway through her notes, her fountain pen suddenly ran dry. 

Following old habit, she shook it vigorously–only to hear a startled “Mamma mia!” from behind. 

Turning, she discovered a tall man in a perfectly tailored navy suit, his artfully tousled dark hair now decorated with a constellation of blue–black ink splatters across his tanned face. 

12.14 

Addio To The Stand–In Past This Time I Chose To Reclaim My Own Life 

10.2% 

Chapter 15 

The absurdity struck her immediately, and Cassie couldn’t contain her laughter. To her surprise, the stranger’s momentary shock dissolved into a wide, unrestrained smile that transformed his entire face as he joined her merriment rather than taking offense. 

Assuming he must be one of the wine experts Martina had mentioned, Cassie quickly dampened a napkin and offered it with profuse apologies. 

The man’s eyes caught her attention immediately–light amber–brown like sun–warmed honey, crinkled at the corners from frequent laughter. Unlike Callum’s controlled, measured expressions, this man’s entire face participated in his emotions, hiding nothing. 

Instead of accepting her apology, he took the napkin with a theatrical bow and asked directly: “What’s your name, beautiful stranger? And would you consider allowing me the pleasure of taking you to dinner?” 

The unexpected forwardness made Cassie blush instantly. Before she could formulate a response, he introduced himself as Fabio–Martina’s brother and the estate’s owner. 

“You’re Cassie,” he continued, dabbing ink from his cheek without breaking eye contact. “Martina speaks of you constantly. She failed to mention you were this stunning, or that you had such deadly aim with writing instruments.” 

The Fabio she’d been hearing about for days stood before her, declaring attraction with the casual confidence of a man who lived without reservation or calculation. Nothing like Callum’s careful, strategic approach to everything–including love. 

Cassie felt warmth spreading through her chest, completely unsure how to respond. He was undeniably magnetic–tall with classical Roman features, expressive hands that gestured as he spoke, and a spontaneous energy that made the air around him seem charged. 

She deflected with compliments about the estate and mentioned her role as sommelier, carefully sidestepping his 

romantic overture. 

Recognizing her evasion, Fabio stepped closer, his cologne–citrus and something woodier–momentarily overwhelming her senses. “I see I’ve startled you. Forgive my directness–we Italians don’t believe in wasting time when something magnificent appears. But I’ll wait for you to become comfortable with me. Just know my interest is 

sincere.” 

His honesty made her cheeks burn hotter than they had in years. She remained speechless, saved only by Martina’s timely arrival that broke the charged tension between them. 

The next morning, Cassie arrived at work to find Fabio waiting with an enormous bouquet of wildflowers–not formal roses, but a riot of colorful blooms that looked as though he’d personally gathered them from the Pallavicini grounds. 

1. en. It was open, 

His smile when he spotted her contained none of the calculation she’d grown accustomed to fro hopeful, and startlingly genuine–the smile of someone who had nothing to hide and no ulterior motives beyond the simple pleasure of seeing her again. Addio to the stand-in past 1