They called her untouchable. Too polished. Too well-dressed. Too controlled. But no one ever asked Valentina Hadley-Rothschild if she wanted to be any of those things. She's an heiress by name, an actress by accident, a girlfriend by obligation. She's the kind of woman who looks perfect in photographs but forgets what her laugh sounds like when no one's listening. And she is in love. Or at least, she was. With Jack Draper, Britain's golden tennis prince. Their relationship is beautiful. Safe. Clean. Like white linen sheets tucked into a hotel bed. But beauty doesn't mean warmth. And safety isn't the same as being known. She's twenty-three and already exhausted. From pretending. From pleasing. From staying quiet when her heart wants to scream. And in that silent ache - somewhere between Monte Carlo and Madrid - she meets him.
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